Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature: An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891. Vols. VIVIII: Literature of the Republic, Part III., 18351860
Some of Mrs. Partingtons Opinions
By Benjamin Penhallow Shillaber (18141890)
[Born in Portsmouth, N. H., 1814. Died at Chelsea, Mass., 1890. Partingtonian Patchwork. 1873.]
WHAT a label it is upon the character of Boston! said Mrs. Partington, as she read a speech on the liquor bill that reflected on Boston. There is no place where benevolence is so aperient as here. For my part I dont know where so much is done for the sufferingand anybody can see it that can readfor how often we see free lunch in the windows of our humane institutions. You never see sich things in the country, as much better as they think themselves.
Mrs. Partington paused, looking over the top of the paper at the country member, as though she were resting her gaze there preparatory to making another shot, while Ike sat on the floor, lathering the cat with raw custard.
Because, said the dame, it has two sides to it, and it is hard to choose between em. Now, here are my two neighbors, contagious to me on both sidesone goes for probation, tother for licentiousness; and I think the best thing for me is to keep nuisance.
Ive always noticed, said Mrs. Partington on New Years Day, dropping her voice to the key that people adopt when they are disposed to be philosophical or moral; Ive always noticed that every year added to a mans life is apt to make him older, just as a man who goes a journey finds, as he jogs on, that every mile he goes brings him nearer where he is going, and farther from where he started. I am not so young as I was once, and I dont believe I shall ever be, if I live to the age of Samson, which, heaven knows as well as I do, I dont want to, for I wouldnt be a centurian or an octagon, and survive my factories, and become idiomatic, by any means. But then there is no knowing how a thing will turn out till it takes place; and we shall come to an end some day, though we may never live to see it.
She turned everything in her mind to remember what she had eaten,her mind an oven full of turnovers.but it refused to come to her; and she made a memorandum by tying a knot in her handkerchief, to call on the editor, and find out about it. Ike sat upon the leaf of the extension-table, swinging his feet beneath it, trying to make a tune out of the creak.