The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1849-09-04 00:00:00

THE MODEL LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER.

(Selected from Horace Mayhew's " Model Women.")
She's very sorry, but she cannot make twenty break-
fasts, and wait upon twenty gentlemen all at once ! You
really must wait a little longer. She is so hurt to hear
that the children disturb you! She has the greatest
trouble in keeping them quiet, but begs you will not
hesitate to mention it it they are at all noisy. She has
told them at least fifty times never to come into your
room, the little plagues ! She hopes he feels comfortable ?
Well, it's very strange, but the chimney never did smoke
before ; whatever can be the cause of it ? Oh ! that
noise at the back is the skittle-ground—she quite forgot
to mention it previously, but her house adjoins a " public"
—it's a great nuisance to be sure, but it's only of an
evening, and won't trouble you much atter eleven.
She can't for the life of her, make out who takes your
books ! All she knows that she's no time for reading—it
must be that hussey, Ann ; she 'll send her away as sure
as she's born, if she catches her at it ! You must make
a mistake—there was'nt a bit of of the leg left yesterday,
she's ever so positive that there wasn't—she can show you
the bone, if you wish it. She never recollects coals being
so abominably dear ; it's quite shameful! The ton you
had in last week is all gone, and she was obliged to lend
you a coal-skuttle herself this morning. She can't make
out what makes the paper so very late—those tiresome
boys are enough to wear one's life out. She's very sorry
if there's no mustard in the house, she had told Ann to
get some at least a hundred times, if she had told her
once, but it's of no use. She must get rid of the girl !
Lor ! how very provoking—she wishes you had only told
her you wanted some hot water for your feet—she's just
that very minute put the kitchen fire out ; but there's
some delicious cold water, if you'd like any.
What ! a FLEA.! 1 ! (it is quite impossible to express
this scream in type ; the reader must imagine in his
mind's ear something equal in shrillness to a railway
whistle)—A FLEA !! ! did you say ? Oh ! that she
should live to hear such a thing ! She's only a poor lone
widow, and it's cruel—that it is—to throw such a thing
in her face ! Well ! if you are bitten all over, it 's no
fault of hers ' • you must have brought the " nasty things"
in yourself. Her house is known to be the sweetest house
in the whole street ; you can ask anybody if it isn't !
Would you be kind enough not to ring the bell so often
—there 's a poor invalid lady on the first floor, and it
distresses her sadly ! She begs your pardon, but linen
always was an extra : she had a gentleman who stopt in
her two parlours once, for ten years ; he was a very nice
gentleman, to be sure, something in the law, and he
never, all the time, raised so much as a murmur against
the linen, nor any other gentleman that she has had any
dealings with ; you must be mistaken.
She really cannot clean more than one pair of boots a-
day—some persons seem to have no bowels for the ser-
vants, poor creatures !—Well ! what 's the matter with
the curtains, she should like very much to know ? What,
rather old ! Well ! on her word it's the first time she's
ever been told so, and they have not been up eight years,
if so much, but decidedly not more! However, if per-
sons are not satisfied, they had better go—she had been
offered three-and-sixpence a-week more for the rooms—
and goodness knows she doesn't make a blessed farthing
by them. She's anxious to satisfy everybody, but cannot
do wonders—and what's more, won't, to please anybody !
She's extremely sorry to hear that yod have lost half your
shirts, but she cannot be answerable for her servants, of
course. She has told her lodgers over and over again
to be careful and lock their drawers, till she's fairly tired
of telling them ! What do you say ? They always have
been locked ! Well! she shouldn't at all wonder now
that you suspect her ?—lf so, she can only tell you to
your face that she doesn't wear shirts, and begs that you
will suit yourself elsewhere. She never experienced such
treatment in all her life, and more than that, she won't—
' no, not to please Prince Albert, or the very best lodger in
the world ! Perhaps you'll accuse her next of stealing
your tea and sugar ? What, you do ? Well ! she's
ashamed of you, that she is, and should like exceedingly
to know what you call yourself ? A gentleman indeed !
No more a gentleman than she is a gentleman. How-
ever, she won't harbour such gentlemen in her house,
she's determined of that, so you 11 please take the usual
notice, and bundle yourself off as quick as you can, and
precious good riddance, too ! She won't stand nonsense
from anybody, though she is nothing better than a poor
lone widow, and has not a soul to protect her in the wide
world ! She never saw such a gentleman.
Not a word more, however is said. The next evening
some oysters are sent in for supper " with Misses' com-
pliments"; please, she says they're beautifully fresh ;"
or if is Sunday, she goes in herself with her best cap, and
two plates, one over the other, and " hopes you will
excuse the liberty, but the joint looked so nice, she
thought you would just like a slice of hot meat for lun-
cheon, with a nice brown potato." She stirs the fire,
sees that the windows are fastened down tight—can't
make out where the draught comes from ! asks in the
softest voice whether you wouldn't like a glass of pale
ale? and finishes by dusting with her apron the mantel-
piece and all the chairs, and hoping that you're perfectly
comfortable ?

As the fatal day' draws near, she knocks at the door,
"Is she disturbing you.? Woold you be kind enough to
let her have a little brandy—she should esteem it a great
favour—she feels such a dreadful sinking."
The next morning she lays the breakfast cloth herself.
For the first time the weekly bill is not ready, " but she's
in no hurry—any time will do. Why ! surely you're not
thinking of going in this way ? You have been with her
ED long ; she should be miserable to lose you—such a nice
gentleman, too—you cannot mean to go !"
But. alas ! there is no•appeal,. Here let us run away.
Language is too weak t© describe the fearful slamming
and hangings of every door, and the noisy sarcasms of
that last day. Arithmetic,, also, falls powerless before
the awful array of formidable " extras" in that last week's
bill og the MODEL LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER.

" CHRISTOPHER" ON hIMORTALITY.—The implanted li
longing in every human bosom for permanent existence—
the fixed anticipation of it—and the recoil from annihila-
tion—seem to ns intimation, vouchsafed toy the Creator of
His designs towards us ;—the horror with which Remorse
awakened by sin looks beyond the Grave, partakes of the
same prophetical inspiration. We see how precisely the
lower animals are fitted to the places which they hold
upon the- earth, with instincts.that exactly supply their
needs, with no other powers that are not here satisfied—
while we,• as if out of place, only through much difficult
experience can adapt ourselves to the physical circum-
stances into which we are introduced—and thus, in one
respect, furnished below our condition, ars, on the other
hand, by the aspirations of our higher faculties, raised in-
finitely above it—as if intimating that whilst those crea-
tures here. fulfil the purpose of their creation, here we do
not—and, therefore, look onward ;--That whilst our other
Powers, of which the use is over, decline in the course of
nature as Death approaches, our Moral and Intellectual
Faculties often go on advancing to the last, as if showing
that they were drawing nighito their proper sphere of ac-
tion ;—That whilst the Laws regulating the Course of
Human Affairs visibly proceed from a Ruler• who favours
Virtue, and who frowns upon. Vice, yet that a just retribu-
tion does not seem uniformly carried out inthe good suc-
cess of well doers, and the ill success of evil-doers—so
that we are led on by the constitution of our souls to look
forward to a• world in which that which here looks like
Moral Discrder, might be reduced into Order, and the
Justice of the Ruler and the consistency.of His Laws
vindicated et—That in studying the arrangements of this
world, we see that in many cases dispositions of Human
affairs, which, upon their first aspect, appeared to us evil,
being more clearly examined and better known, resulted
in good—and thence draw a hope that the stroke which
daunts our- imagination, as though it were the worst of
evils, will prove, when known, a dispensation of bounty—
" Death the Gate of Life,." opening into a world in which
His beneficent hand, if not nearer to us than here, will be
more steadily visible—no clouds interposing between the
eyes of our soul and their Sun ;—That the perplexity
which oppresses our Understanding from the sight of this
world, in. which the Good and Evil seem intermixed and
crossing each other, almost vanishes, when we lift up our
thoughts- to contemplate this mutable scene as a place of
Probation and Discipline, where Sorrows and Sufferings
are given to school us to Virtue—as the Arena where Vir-
tue strives in the laborious and perilous-contest, of which
it shall hereafter receive the well-won and glorious crown ;
—That we draw confidence in the same conclusions, from
observing how closely, allied and agreeing to each other are
the Two Great Truths of Natural Religion, the Belief in
God and the Belief in our own Immortality; so that, when
we have received the idea of God as•the great Governor of
the Universe, the belief in our own prolonged exis-
tence appears to us as a necessary part of that Go-
vernment;. or if, upon the physical.argurnents, we have
admitted the independent conviction of our Immor-
tality,.this doctrine appears to us barren and comfortless,
until we understand that the continuance of our Being
is to bring,us into the more untroubled fruition of that
Light, which here shines upon us,.often through mist and
cloud ;—That in all these high doctrines we are instructed
to'rest more securely, as we find the growing harmony of
one solemn, conviction with another—and these predomi-
nating principles carry us to.these convictions—so that
our Understanding then first begins to possess itself in.
strength and light when the heart has accepted the MoraL
Law ;—Bat that our Understanding is only fully at ease,
and our Moral Nature itself, with all its affections, only
fully supported and expanded, when both together have
borne us on to the knowledge of Him who is the sole
Source of Law—the highest Object of Thought—the
Favourer of Virtue—towards whom Love may eternally
grow, and still be infinitely less than His due—till we
have reached this knowledge, and with it the steadfast
hope that the last act of this Life joins us to Him—does
not for ever shut us up in the night of Oblivion ;;—And
' we have strengthened ourselves in inferences forced upon
us by remembering how humankind has consented in
these Beliefs, as if they were a part of our Nature—and
by remembering farther, how, by the force of these
Beliefs, human Societies have subsisted and been held
together—how Laws have been sanctioned, and how
Virtues, Wisdom, and all the good and great works of the
Human Spirit have, under these influences, been pro-
duced ;—Surely GREAT IS THE POWER of all these con-
current considerations brought from every part of our
Nature—from the Material and Immaterial—from the
Intellectual and Moral—from the Incividual and Social—
from that which respects our existence on this side of the
(crave, and that which respects our existence beyond it—
from that which looks down upon the Earth, and that
which looks upwards towards Heaven.—Blackwood.
A BAD LEG CURED BY HOLLOWAY'S OINTMENT AND
PILLS, ATTER TWENTY,YEARS' SUFFERING.—Extraet of
' a letter from Mr. Andrew Brack, blacksmith, Eyemouth,
dated August 10, 1848 :—" To Professor Holloway,—Sir,
I have the pleasure to inform that I have obtained a
most extraordinary cure by e use of your celebrated
Ointment and Pills. For pwards of twenty years I suf-
fered with a dreadful ba eg, and during that time I
ttocon-
sulted several eminent urgeons, but their efforts failed to
do any good. I then had recourse to yor Ointment and
Pills, which, witVhe blessing of Providence, have com-
pletely healed *leg, and wade it as sound as ever.
('Signed) " ANDREW BRACK."