Ran through the town as fast as it could run-- } 240 At dinners what appear’d--at cards who lost or won. } Our good appearance through the town was known, Hunger and thirst were matters of our own; And you would judge that she in scandal dealt Who told on what we fed, or how we felt. We had a little maid, some four feet high, Who was employ’d our household stores to buy; For she would weary every man in trade, And tease t’ assent whom she could not persuade. Methinks I see her, with her pigmy light, 250 Precede her mistress in a moonless night; From the small lantern throwing through the street The dimm’d effulgence at her lady’s feet; What time she went to prove her well-known skill With rival friends at their beloved quadrille. “And how’s your pain?” inquired the gentle maid, For that was asking if with luck she play’d; And this she answer’d as the cards decreed, “O Biddy! ask not--very bad indeed;” Or, in more cheerful tone, from spirit light, 260 “Why, thank you, Biddy, pretty well to-night.” The good old lady often thought me vain, And of my dress would tenderly complain; But liked my taste in food of every kind, As from all grossness, like her own, refined. Yet when she hinted that on herbs and bread Girls of my age and spirit should be fed, Whate’er my age had borne, my flesh and blood, Spirit and strength, the interdict withstood; But, though I might the frugal soul offend 270 Of the good matron, now my only friend, And though her purse suggested rules so strict, Her love could not the punishment inflict; She sometimes watch’d the morsel with a frown, And sigh’d to see, but let it still go down. Our butcher’s bill, to me a monstrous sum, Was such that, summon’d, he forbore to come: Proud man was he, and when the bill was paid, He put the money in his bag and play’d, Jerking it up, and catching it again, 280 And poising in his hand in pure disdain; While the good lady, awed by man so proud, And yet disposed to have her claims allow’d, Balanced between humility and pride, Stood a fall’n empress at the butcher’s side, Praising his meat as delicate and nice---- “Yes, madam, yes! if people pay the price.” So lived the lady, and so murmur’d I, In all the grief of pride and poverty. Twice in the year there came a note to tell 290 How well mamma, who hoped the child was well; It was not then a pleasure to be styled, By a mamma of such experience, ‘Child!’ But I suppressed the feelings of my pride, Or other feelings set them all aside. There was a youth from college, just the one I judged mamma would value as a son; He was to me good, handsome, learn’d, genteel, I cannot now what then I thought reveal;