ID
Pith (r)alr.
YOUR OVERCOAT.
TAKE CAR
Preen. Si
Vat. Not
y gloves are on.
Two GENTLEMEN OF TIMONA
'THAT'S a very pretty overcoat, James has
just laid- upon the sofa, Harry,' said Mrs. Gor
don to her son, looking at a sleek, plump,
wadded paletot, which the servant had just
brought in from the tailor;' 'but you must
excuse the question, and not think me a very
stingy or curious specimen of womankind.--
What can you do with so many overcoats?
Why, this must be the third'—
'The fifth, my dear.,mother,' replied Harry
Gordon, lookitig over the top of his news
paper, with his bright black eyes; which his
mother, like ninny others of her sex, never
looked at without admiring; 'the fifth; and I
shouldn't wonder that, before the winter is
over, I shnJl have to say, with Banquo, and
`,yet an eighth appears."
'IM see no more,' interrupted Mrs. Gordon,
laughing
.You wont see them any more, my dear mo
ther—meaning the overcoat—fur I assure you,
they vanish like the witches' visions; and
where the deuce they go to, I can't tell you—
all I can say is, that men, when they come
away frqm balls, can't sec quite as clearly as
when they go there; for somebody always
takes mine, and leafes me nothing—not even
an old one.'
'Proving that seine people must, when they
leave these,balls, not only haVU an obs Cured
vision, but actually see double, and taking
themselves for two men, put on two paletots
Kell, Harry, my son, it is at least a consola
tion to find that you are always in a most
exemplary state of sobriety; your overcoats
bear witness to your devotion to the Maine
Law—for if the man who takes two paletots,
is--:-whatever men call it—slightly exhileratoil,
I believe is the polite term—the man tvho gets
no overcoat at all, can have got no wine. So,
my sober son, let me:diligently prepare for you
another cup of this beverage, 'which cheers,
but not inebriates."
Aud Mrs. Gordon begun to pour out the tea;
for the net• overcoat had arrived as she and
her -son were sitting at breakfast, one cold
morning in January.
- They were a happy pair, this mother and
son; there were few so called 'loving couples'
that could match them. To have opened any
? of the splendid dining-room doors, where on
that morning everybody was at breakfast, in
this grand street leading into Fifth Avenue—
a street short, pompous, and plethoric, from
having swallowed up the ground of twelve
houses, and digested it into six—ono would
not have found a more inviting breakfast
table, before which to draw a • Well-stuffed
chair, and sit down, on this cold, freezing,
raining, sleeting, slippery, sloppy, January
morning.
The Ere, an unctuous, blazing Liverpool
coal-fire, flamed in the grate, and a small
round table, with its snow-white cloth, bright
siver tea-trappings, and its chaste gilded cups
and saucers, was drawn cozily up to it—the
solemn square dining-table remaining im
movable in its usual place, in the centre of
the soft, bright carpet.,
Seated opposite each other. in low, broad,
lazy arm-chairs, that 'looked intended as a
transition from the repose of the night to the
toils of the day, wore Mr. Harry Gordon and
his mother.
Mrs Gqrdon had been left a widow, with an
easy jointuro and a little boy, at an early age.
For the sake of the jointuro, Mrs. Gordon had
found many suitors; but for the sake of the
boy, she had refused them all ; and his af
fection, his devotion, had well rewarded her,
if, indeed, she lost anything by not having a
husband—a doubt which we do not presume
to solve.
As for Mr. Harry Gordon, ho was what a
boy, well endowed by nature With intellect
and heart, would ever be, if mothers would
condescend to develop the ono and direct the
other.
He was generous, conscientious, high-spirit
ed, contented with himself, the world, things
in general, and his own in particular; fond of
society, which returned the compliment, and
rnade an idol of him; glorying in his home,
which, since ho could lisp the word, had been
'made the bright oasis of his life—and adOring
his mother, whom he thought sent into the
world as a typo of every virtue and excellence
—his tender, his refined, his beautiful (Harry
notutally thought her beautiful, though she
was forty) mother, whose image and sweet
memory had, in the multifarious temptations
of a young man's existence, so often stood be
tween him and harm. How could ho be guilty
of any action he could not tell his pure, noble
mother, as was his custom every morning, as
they lounged over their breakfast-table? This
hour, or rather these hours, were exclusively
his mother's—the hours In which she laughed
with him at the fun and frolics of his evening's
exploits—related for her amusement; or coun
seled him, as he told her his hopes and fears,
the dilemmas and perplexities of his businesa
life; for, though Harry was a groat man in
the ball-room up-.town, ho was a man of no
smalNimpoitan - Ce dew too-Lwhere he
had taken his father's pingo - in one of the
largest commercial houses.
Harry was no idler, no lazy fop—no languid
'Young . American.' Ho dicknot disdain any
thing, not even the dusty old counting-aouse,
where his father and his father before him,
had made so much money; and ho 'spent. it
nobly and judiciously for'tho good of all.
But Harry's mother, surd of his steadiness
and high principle, of his industry and energy
in his career, as a citizen and a merchant,
strove in every way to make his young days
bright and happy, by forwarding his amuse
ments when the hours of toil were over.
She herself had given up, from sheer indif
ference, hor position in the 'world;' but her
connections enabled •her to launch Harry into
our best society. Then, when ho had his
friends to entertain, there vias no need of bar
rooms or club-rooms, or restaurants; Mrs.
Gordon was delighted to open her house--her
Harry's home—to his friends. To remain
with ospitable grace receiving thorn, and ad
din a charm to all, by her wit and cheerful
ne,s—or merely to see that all was right for
Harry and his guests, if, with his arm round
her, and a little tap on her cheek, Harry look:
ing admiringly at her, would say—
'Mother mind, din cr for six, to-morro w —
iced champagne, if yryG pleasU, madam—any
thing else you like—but your fair self—your
ladyship's presence will be dispensed with on
this occasion.' •
Then Harry's mother would laugh, and
shake her finger at him, and cheerfully set
about the necessary preparations. But she
was nowise offended or alarmed at prohibi
tion regarding herself, for she knew that youth
has its frolics; she actually imagined that
young men living in the world, might have
things to talk about, and ways of talking
about them, which could nriso interest her.
a woman. But she did not, Yet. that, imagine
that the orgies of ancient Rome were to be
enacted under her roof; she knew that Harry
respected it and her too much for that. In
fact, Gordon was a model woman; knew
her own duties and her own position, and ful
filled both; still Harry was so happy, that
(this was the great charge against him from
the girls in upper-tendom,) he did not appear
to think in the least that ho wanted a wife.
Yet there were many who could have reminded
him that he was five-and-twenty—that he was
rich, prosperous; and had a fine house, all
ready furnished, and that all ho wanted was a
wife. But ho was very•obtuse on this point—
the idea could not be got into his brain.
Still, Harry went everywhere; and on the
morning we have made his acquaintance, he
had just finished a most spirited description
of a grand Fifth Avenue fete, at which the
flowers alone had cost fifteen hundred dollars,
and at which Mr. Harry Gordon had danced
innumerable schottiSlies, rodowas, and polkas
—won no end of hearts, and lost—his over
coat.
'But you dear, stupid Harry!' continued
Mrs. Gordon, after her son had given her a
description_ of the various mishaps and myy
terious disappearances attending his overcoats;
'did it never ocour to you to put your name
into your paletots?'
'Heavens, mother! what an idea! Rave
one's name written on one's coat collar, so
that if you hang your coat over your seat at
the theatre, or throw it down in a public room,
everybody may say, ever afterward, 'there
goes John Smith!"
'Oh, I beg pardon,' said Mrs.:Gordon; 'well,
let us resort to a half measure, then, and sup
pose we carelessly drop ono of your own cards
into the pocket—so,' said Mrs. Gordon, and
walking across the room, she put her advice
in practice, and deposited in it a smooth piece
of pasteboard, on which was engraved—
'HARRY GORDON,
No. —., -- Street.'
That evening, ho again betook himself to
ono of the aristocratic camelia, fetes, with
which the merchant princes about this time
celebrate the advent of a now year. What
were his exploits there, we are not about to
set down, for they concern us not—nor did
they him; for, as he danced along the broad
pavements, so shining and crackling under his
feet, all ho thought Of was that he really had
secured his new overcoat this time—and that
it was mighty comfortable, too, for the sharp
cutting wind blow in his face. But be merely
put back his hair from his eyes, and throw up
his head with a sort of bold deflanCe, as if to
enter into contest with this same /Bolus—(tho
proper type of envy, nagging, irritotiog, rest.
lees, and inevitable as it is)—for nothing could
put Harry out of temper.
So, as wo have said, he went dancing along,
his hands in the pockets of his now palotot,
them playing with the' card his dear
mother had herself put into it.
'Dear, kind mother,' thought Harry, 'deuced
cold I should have been without her, though,
after that hot room and the sharp two hours'
cotillion. Graceful girl, that Emily Sykes,
but she hasn't such beautifteyes as Eliee
prows. Ellen Drew's eyes arf) so bright, se
sparkling. Talking of sparkling, by the bye,
that was famous champagne old Groves
us; how queer ho looks, though, in his fine
rooms, so,timit.firiold, ready if he's snubbed,
to apologize for being there. All! ah! clever °
felloW, though, in a business way.. By(the
bye, wonder if the Asia's in—her news may
make the difference of a. few thousandg to us
-everything mighty dull in Enrope,.they say.
'That Prima Donna waltz_ is pretty—'it has
a dying fall.' By Jove! it is cold, though!
that gust, just asl i tut:nsd the corner, quite
set my teeth on edge. Lucky the famous
overcoat is padded and stuffed like a mattrass,
or mother's darling might have caught a con
sumption. Well, here I am—but who's come,
and what's the matter?' continued Barry, as,
within a few steps of his home, ho perceived
that there was a carriage at the door, and a
gentleman standing on the steps, evidently
waiting for him. •
Ile hastened on; but scarcely did he set:ll;s
foot on the first step, before the gentleman he
had seen on the top of them, rushed down,
putting one hand on his arm to secure him.
whilst with the other be held a piece of paste
board tit'ards him, exclaming in a loud, angry
tone—
'Are you Mr. Harry Gorton?'
'I am, sir,' said Harry, drawing away from
his grasp, much astonished and somewhat of
fended at the peremptory manner in which ho
was addressed, though his interrogator was
a stout old gentleman, - and ,in a State of con•
siderablo excitement:
'Then, sir, you've got my overcoat, and my
overcoat's got the key of my house in the
pocket; one of you're precious New York
boarding-houses, where the Irish servants are
as grand and sleepy as their masters, and wont
stir, sir. I wish we had them nt the South
for a little:training, that's all! Why, we rang,
and rang, and rang, and waited, and shouted
—bless you, sir, we might as well have shout
ed to the towers of Trinity Church. So I
found your card, and in despair I came here
after my key—and yote_ve stayed at that stupid
ball so Into, dancing away in those confounded
hot rooms, whilst I've been dancing here, sir,
on your cold stoop, waiting for my paletot and
my key.'
With these words, the gentleman began vio
lently to take off his coat. Harry, perfectly
astounded at the fatality which appeared to
attend his overcoats, had listened with resign
ed humiliation to the reproachful harangue,
and with a sort of dogged desperation, began
to abstract himself from the garment he had
so praised and so pressed to his bosom, and
after all, was not his own.
'Here, sir, here,' said the old gentleman,
holding out Harry's overcoat; 'here's your
coat, (devilish tight it was—l only wonder I
didn't split it in the back,) and there's your
cord, back again in the pocket. Now give me
mine, and let me get my key.'
Harry held forth the offending paletot,
which bad so deserted its master, and the old
gentleman, before he took it from him, began
eagerly to feel iu the pockets.
'By Heaven, sir, you've lost the key!'
'Lost the key, sir! there was no key in it
Mien I put it on, I assure you.'
'No key?'
'No, sir—only a card,' replied Harry, hold
ing out the card with which ho had fumbled on
his way home.
'A card!' shouted the strange gentleman, in
a perfect tone of horror; 'a card! I put no
onrd there!' and running up to the neighboring
gas-light, he exclaimed, understand it all—
that aint my_paletot! I got yours, but oh, you
didn't got mine! Sure enough,' continued ho,
shaking the fatal coat, which hung still on
Ilarry's arm; 'sure enough, that isn't mine.'
Then turning round to the carriage, he ex
claim,
•Busy, Busy dear, what shall I do? Ile's
come and be hasn't got the coat. I had his,
but he's got somebody else's.'
'Who's papa?' replied a feminine voice, at
voice Mr. Harry Gordon turned toward
the carriage also, and beheld by the light of
the gas-light, which fell full upon• it, a sweet
little face, with heaps of light, crisp auburn
ringlets, (kept in curl by the frost) clustering
round it—the oval outline of the face, and the
regular features, being defined by n delicate
pink and white satin 'hood, which was tied
closely under the chin.
At the sight of this face, Mr. Harry Got..
don, doffing his hat, advanced to the carriage.
'The lady is right, sir,' said he, looking at
the lady, but speaking to the gentleman;
'who's paletot have you got? Lot us read the
card.'
The old gentleman meohanioally held it out,
and Harry's young and quick-sighted eyes
red, by the uncertain light, some very twisted
and elaborate characters,,, which together
formed the name 0f;, . •
,• kn. 4'e Burrito,
'Whore ?' sold the old , gentleman.
- , Where r exclaimed the voice from beneath
the little pink and white satin hood ; 'whore,
pa, dear, ie'nt Mr. J. Smith everywhere! Oh,
pa, we aro martyrs to the Smiths and the'
little hood laughed such a buoyant, divvy.
catching laugh, that Harry couldn't help
laughing too.
' It's mighty fine to laugh,' , said the old
gentleman, standing petrified, .his eyes im
movably fixed on the gorgon name ; 'but
what's to' be done V
'Allow me to assist you, sir, I perceive you
are o, stronger in Now yerk—l trust you will
permit me to show you that wo hair° some
hOepitality at the'North.• For the honor_ of
the North I hope you will condescend to ac
cept my proposition. My mother, sir, resides
with me in this house ; you, if I understand
right, have no family awaiting you nt hoine ;.
you had better allow my mother, Mrs. Gordon,
the pleasure of receiving this young lady for
the night—whilst I, sir, can offer you a room.
We have always ono or two. for our friends.
'Well, sir,' said the old gentleman, taking
Harry's band and giving it a hearty shake . ;
'that's a kind offer—l didn't think you con
done, mid - northerners wore capable of such a
thing. My name's Mansfield, sir—Mansfield,
of Alabama. Groves knows all about me—
and this is mr . daughter, Susan, come up to
see the lions.'
'Harry bowed, and the hood gave a gentle
inclination forward, which brought some of
the shining curls over its eyes ; but the tiniest
little hand, protruding with just the white,
round, small wrist, from the broad, white
sleeve of the burnous, quickly thrust them
back:
'And so, Mr. Gordon, I think'—
'Popo,' quickly interrupted Susan, 'you
couldn't think of such a thing—waking Mrs.
Gordon at this time of night. Indeed, sir,'
added she, turning her eyes full on Harry, (by
which he, who never lost an opportunity, dis
covered that they were large, earnest, deep
blue eves—just the eyes lie admired—very
like his mother's he thought,) 'We could not
think of troubling Mrs. Gordon—though we
are, of course, very grateful to you. I think
we must. try our boarding•house again, papa;
unless'—and she turned sowewbat archly to
ward Harry, with her little silvery laugh—
'unless,' continued she. 'Mr. Gordon - 'can tell
us where Mr. T. Smith lives.'
Harry laughed, and thought 'How wonder
fully deep blue eyes can change their expres
sion ! I wouldn't give a , fig for a woman that
always looks the same, even though she were
as beautiful as the Greek Blare!'
'I know a Mr. Smith,' interposed the dri
ver; .and he nint far from here.'
'Lot's go,' said Mr. Mansfield, resolutely,
opening the carriage door.
'Allow me to go With you,' said Gordon,
really couldn't feel content if I knew you were
wandering about in search of Mr. J. Smith.
You know it's all my fault, and I know New
York ways better than you do, and may per
haps get at, Mr. J. Smith sooner than you
Come along, and thank you.'
Harry jumped in, the driver closed the
door, end off they started in search of Mr. J.
Smith.
Barry sat opposite to the corner whence
proceeded the little silvery laugh. Al! he
could see was a sort of vapory cloud of gauze,
and the tip of a little white satin shoe, on the
dark carpet of the carriage, as they passed
the gas-lights. By these same friendly lamps
he perceived, also, the outline of a beautiful
and graceful form, enveloped closely in a
white satin bornous, with a heavy pink and
white fringe. The deep blue eyes and the
waving hair, which danced and played to the
jolting of the carriage, and the yielding form
nestled in the corner made a pretty picture.
Scarcely were they on their way, before
Miss Mansfield addressed him.
`This is a most delightful adventure !
though I hope you wont take cold, papa—
that would spoil it•'
'Put on Mr. J. Smith's paletot,' said Har
ry, laughing.
'By Jove, I will I' replied Mr. Mansfield ,
hope it isn't as tight as yours.'
'You were at the Grove's, then?' said
Harry.
6To be sure I was ;; but you didn't see me,
I've no doubt.'
Harry, thinking how stupid he had been to
have seen any one else•replied—
.l went late nud I danced a good deal—
and'—
'And you didn't see me ; it's no use, Mr.
Gordon, trying to compose a civil speech. I
am nobody, you know; so wo will dale our
acquaintance from this present wonderous ad
venture—a pilgrimago'in search of Mr. John
Smith and a paletot.'
'And a bey,' put in the father.
And so they journeyed on through the quiet,
silent streets—all talking and laughing as
merrily as though they had been old friends+.
for Harry's temper was bright and joyous, arid
Miss Mansfield's seemed to be even and cheer,
ful as his own. Not one word of discontent
or reproach to her father - her spirit appearOd
unwearied, whatever her.frame might be ; and
though she might be nc body at a New York
ball, oho certainly. was ,calculated to be a
personage bf the greatest inipertance, with all
who knew her and came within the influence
of her bright intellect,' tor iefined manner,
her sweet temper and affectionate dispositicin
—not forgetting the radiant deep blue eyea.,
and the sunny hair.
. 'Here's Mr. Smith's,' said the coachman,
last.
'Let me go ant,' said Harry, leaping t
the ground ; •I'll makar 'em hear, I'll wm
rant.'
He rang, and rang; and then, when h
imagined his tocsin had sounded the,, alarm
and aroused the drowsy sleepers,' Barry' tapr
ed ut the bilsement window.
, What do you want ?' said a gruff voice
half opening the window, and admitting t
view a sulky, fat, black face. 'What do yo
want, sir ?'
'Mr. Smith,' boldly replied Harry. •
'Which Mr. Smith ?'
'Mr. John Smith,' ventured Harry.
'That aint hero,' said the black head, with
drawing itself.
'James Smith !' shouted Mr. Mansfield
from the carriage.
Jeremiah !' suggested the silver:) , voice
with a laugh.
, Josiah !' again said Harry, bnt the blac
head exclaimed, in a state of extreme irrita
tion—
`That aint it ! Get along with you all—
you're a•making fun on me and closing tiv
window with a bang, Harry and the coachmai
remained looking in blank consternation, film
one to the other.
'I aint a•going any further,' said the coach
man ; 'ray nags is tired and so be I, and !sin
n-going any further.'
'Yes, up to my house, wont you ?' said Mr
Mansfield.
•No I wont—that's West Twenty-Third
street—miles and miles off.'
'But you'll go to mine, that's close by,' sait:
Harry, insinuating a corpulent silver piece
into the coachman's hands, as he got into th(
can Inge
There is no help for it my dear sir, it it
three o'clock, you cannot keep Miss Mansfield
any longer in this cool air, after dancing all
night.'
''fired. Susy, are you darling ?' said. Mr.
Mansfield, turning toward hie daughter, 'l'm
surd I am.'
'Then,' said Susy, gracefully addressing
Harry, 'let us really consider this night as one
taken entirely out of our common every-day
life ; let us suppose we are some centuries
older ; let us suppose these tall houses forest
trees, myself a benighted damsel, with an ex
iled father, (you, dear papa,) and imagine
trati we encounter a galliant knight-errant—
yourself,- Mr. Gordon—and so accept the hos
pitality of your castle. What part we are to
assign to Mrs Gordon, is the only thing that
puzzles me.'
'Oh, she will play the good fairy and set at
right—she never does anything but good
things,''said Harry.
And now they arrived :. and Harry, opening
his door with the tiny passkey his mottler
had had made to 6t his waistcoat pocket, (he
never forgot or changed his waistcoat, as he
did his overcoats,) introduced, with all possi
ble deference, his new-found friends into the
breakfast-room.
Leaving them there, he proceeded to his
mother's room. In five minutes explained
all, in another five, Mrs. Gordon was down
stairs, and in ten minute's more, Mr. -Mans
field and Susy were each in a comfortable
bed-room ; where, going to sleep on their
CONTINUED ON SEVENTH I'AGE
Fljifubefpfiin.
H . O.3.REOP I AT , HIC N N . .E . DICAL COL
ft:aid in Filbert St. above E.F. yeah,. Philadelphia.
The Lectenes of the Regular Course will cunimmiee
on the second Monday of October, and continue until
the tirst of March ensuing.
Amount of Fees for a full Course of Lectures [in
varinbly cash.) $lOO 00
Studeat who have attended two fdll courses Sn
other ih.dlcal Colleges, • $0 00
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FACULTY.
WALSER Witmodeatv, M. D., Emeritus Professor of Clin
ical Medicine.
J P. D se, M. D., Professor of Materia Medics and
Therapeutics.
ALVAN E. SMALL, M. D., Professorof Homeopathic Insti
tutes, Pathology, and the Practice of Medicine
ISAAC M. WARD, M. D.' Professor of Obstetrics, Diseases
of Women and Children, and Medical Jurispru
dence.
MArtoew SEMPLE, M. D., Professor of Chemistry and
. Toxicology.
JACOB Ilnoux.r, M. D., Professor of Surgery.
WILUAM A. GlentaNnt, M. D.. Professor of Anatomy.
WILLIAM A. itXxo, M. D., Professor of Physiology.
Asa S. COUCH, M. D., Demonstrator of Anatomy.
WILLIAM A. GARDINER, M. D., Dean.
augl-'55. No. 120 North Tenth St. Phila.
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