AN AMERICAN BACHELOR’S SOLILOQUY

WELL, what am I to do? Here I am without a button on my shirt, the lining in my best coat all torn, and not a clean dickey in the world. I want to go to a party to-night, too. Can’t go, though, that’s certain. Heigho! Wonder if married men have as much trouble as we single men do? I don’t believe they do. There’s Charlie, my nephew, he’s married, and he always looks as happy as a kitten; never see any buttons off his clothes, or his fingers peeping out of his gloves; while mine – well! There’s not a whole finger on any of ‘em – look as if they had been shot at. Haven’t a whole sock in Christendom either; but then they ain’t seen. Wonder what I’d do if it was fashionable to wear a fellow’s socks over his boots? Wonder if all my bachelor friends are in as bad a predicament as I? There’s Jones and Smith; they seem happy enough – always poking fun at me and my glories. Say they wouldn’t get married for a million; but I don’t believe the half of that. Can’t get a chance; guess that’s what’s the matter. I’m tormented to death in these boarding-houses; can’t keep anything, for the servants. If I get a bottle of “Lubin,” it’s all gone by the time I want to use it. All my business letters and notes (everything except my bills) are kept down-stair’s week before they are delivered. My bed is as hard as board; my pillow – well! It hasn’t but six feathers in it. It’s no use to complain; can’t have any better, I s’pose. Friends say I ought to get married. Get married I – Humph! Who would have me, pray? Let me see – who do I know? There’s the Widow Brown – but I asked her once, and she said “no.” Whew! What a look she did give me when I got on my bended knees to her, too: now that wasn’t very ladylike in the widow. Well! There’s the Widow Smith – yes! And the Widow Thorn – um! – and Miss B. – and – but I wonder if I could get the Widow Thorn? Guess I could; wonder if I’d better try? Suppose I should be refused? How Jones and Smith would laugh if they should hear of it! Well! Let them laugh; I can’t live this way much longer; I’m dying by inches. It would surely kill me, too, to have them laugh at me; but I might as well die one way as another; can’t die but once, anyhow. Come to think – I guess I will ask her. I’ll go to-night, too. Now if she should say no! but it’s no use to borrow trouble….