The Complete Works of Mark Twain. Mark Twain
made a picture of the scene and spoke of the matter in such a way as to show that the editor regretted that the offense of an arrest had been offered to so exalted a personage as Mr. Weed.
Mr. O’Riley furnished shingle nails to the new Court House at three thousand dollars a keg, and eighteen gross of 60-cent thermometers at fifteen hundred dollars a dozen; the controller and the board of audit passed the bills, and a mayor, who was simply ignorant but not criminal, signed them. When they were paid, Mr. O’Riley’s admirers gave him a solitaire diamond pin of the size of a filbert, in imitation of the liberality of Mr. Weed’s friends, and then Mr. O’Riley retired from active service and amused himself with buying real estate at enormous figures and holding it in other people’s names. By and by the newspapers came out with exposures and called Weed and O’Riley “thieves,” — whereupon the people rose as one man (voting repeatedly) and elected the two gentlemen to their proper theatre of action, the New York legislature. The newspapers clamored, and the courts proceeded to try the new legislators for their small irregularities. Our admirable jury system enabled the persecuted ex-officials to secure a jury of nine gentlemen from a neighboring asylum and three graduates from SingSing, and presently they walked forth with characters vindicated. The legislature was called upon to spew them forth — a thing which the legislature declined to do. It was like asking children to repudiate their own father. It was a legislature of the modern pattern.
Being now wealthy and distinguished, Mr. O’Riley, still bearing the legislative “Hon.” attached to his name (for titles never die in America, although we do take a republican pride in poking fun at such trifles), sailed for Europe with his family. They traveled all about, turning their noses up at every thing, and not finding it a difficult thing to do, either, because nature had originally given those features a cast in that direction; and finally they established themselves in Paris, that Paradise of Americans of their sort. — They staid there two years and learned to speak English with a foreign accent — not that it hadn’t always had a foreign accent (which was indeed the case) but now the nature of it was changed. Finally they returned home and became ultra fashionables. They landed here as the Hon. Patrique Oreille and family, and so are known unto this day.
Laura provided seats for her visitors and they immediately launched forth into a breezy, sparkling conversation with that easy confidence which is to be found only among persons accustomed to high life.
“I’ve been intending to call sooner, Miss Hawkins,” said the Hon. Mrs. Oreille, “but the weather’s been so horrid. How do you like Washington?”
Laura liked it very well indeed.
Mrs. Gashly — ”Is it your first visit?”
Yes, it was her first.
All — ”Indeed?”
Mrs. Oreille — ”I’m afraid you’ll despise the weather, Miss Hawkins. It’s perfectly awful. It always is. I tell Mr. Oreille I can’t and I won’t put up with any such a climate. If we were obliged to do it, I wouldn’t mind it; but we are not obliged to, and so I don’t see the use of it. Sometimes its real pitiful the way the childern pine for Parry — don’t look so sad, Bridget, ‘ma chere’ — poor child, she can’t hear Parry mentioned without getting the blues.”
Mrs. Gashly — ”Well I should think so, Mrs. Oreille. A body lives in Paris, but a body, only stays here. I dote on Paris; I’d druther scrimp along on ten thousand dollars a year there, than suffer and worry here on a real decent income.”
Miss Gashly — ”Well then, I wish you’d take us back, mother; I’m sure I hate this stoopid country enough, even if it is our dear native land.”
Miss Emmeline Gashly — ”What and leave poor Johnny Peterson behind?” [An airy genial laugh applauded this sally].
Miss Gashly — ”Sister, I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself!”
Miss Emmeline — ”Oh, you needn’t ruffle your feathers so: I was only joking. He don’t mean anything by coming to the house every evening — only comes to see mother. Of course that’s all!” [General laughter].
Miss G. prettily confused — ”Emmeline, how can you!”
Mrs. G. — ”Let your sister alone, Emmeline. I never saw such a tease!”
Mrs. Oreille — ”What lovely corals you have, Miss Hawkins! Just look at them, Bridget, dear. I’ve a great passion for corals — it’s a pity they’re getting a little common. I have some elegant ones — not as elegant as yours, though — but of course I don’t wear them now.”
Laura — ”I suppose they are rather common, but still I have a great affection for these, because they were given to me by a dear old friend of our family named Murphy. He was a very charming man, but very eccentric. We always supposed he was an Irishman, but after he got rich he went abroad for a year or two, and when he came back you would have been amused to see how interested he was in a potato.
He asked what it was! Now you know that when Providence shapes a mouth especially for the accommodation of a potato you can detect that fact at a glance when that mouth is in repose — foreign travel can never remove that sign. But he was a very delightful gentleman, and his little foible did not hurt him at all. We all have our shams — I suppose there is a sham somewhere about every individual, if we could manage to ferret it out. I would so like to go to France. I suppose our society here compares very favorably with French society does it not, Mrs. Oreille?”
Mrs. O. — ”Not by any means, Miss Hawkins! French society is much more elegant — much more so.”
Laura — ”I am sorry to hear that. I suppose ours has deteriorated of late.”
Mrs. O. — ”Very much indeed. There are people in society here that have really no more money to live on than what some of us pay for servant hire. Still I won’t say but what some of them are very good people — and respectable, too.”
Laura — ”The old families seem to be holding themselves aloof, from what I hear. I suppose you seldom meet in society now, the people you used to be familiar with twelve or fifteen years ago?”
Mrs. O. — ”Oh, no-hardly ever.”
Mr. O’Riley kept his first rum-mill and protected his customers from the law in those days, and this turn of the conversation was rather uncomfortable to madame than otherwise.
Hon. Mrs. Higgins — ”Is Francois’ health good now, Mrs. Oreille?”
Mrs. O. — (Thankful for the intervention) — ”Not very. A body couldn’t expect it. He was always delicate — especially his lungs — and this odious climate tells on him strong, now, after Parry, which is so mild.”
Mrs. H: — ”I should think so. Husband says Percy’ll die if he don’t have a change; and so I’m going to swap round a little and see what can be done. I saw a lady from Florida last week, and she recommended Key West. I told her Percy couldn’t abide winds, as he was threatened with a pulmonary affection, and then she said try St. Augustine. It’s an awful distance — ten or twelve hundred mile, they say but then in a case of this kind — a body can’t stand back for trouble, you know.”
Mrs. O. — ”No, of course that’s off. If Francois don’t get better soon we’ve got to look out for some other place, or else Europe. We’ve thought some of the Hot Springs, but I don’t know. It’s a great responsibility and a body wants to go cautious. Is Hildebrand about again, Mrs. Gashly?”
Mrs. G. — ”Yes, but that’s about all. It was indigestion, you know, and it looks as if it was chronic. And you know I do dread dyspepsia. We’ve all been worried a good deal about him. The doctor recommended baked apple and spoiled meat, and I think it done him good. It’s about the only thing that will stay on his stomach now-a-days. We have Dr. Shovel now. Who’s your doctor, Mrs. Higgins?”
Mrs. H. — ”Well, we had Dr. Spooner a good while, but he runs so much to emetics,