you have the coat for the vases and this cup and saucer.”
To this proposition the man gave an instant and decided negative,
and seemed half offended by my offer. He threw the coat, which was
in his hands again, upon a chair, and stooping down took his basket
on his arm. I was deceived by his manner, and began to think that I
had proposed rather a hard bargain; so I said—
“You can have the coat for the vases, if you care to make the
exchange; if not, why no harm is done.”
For the space of nearly half a minute, the old man stood in apparent
irresolution, then he replied, as he set down his basket and took
out the pair of vases—
“I don’t care; you shall have them.”
I took the vases and he took the coat. A moment or two more, and I
heard the street door close behind the dealer in china ware, with a
very decided jar.
“Ain’t they beautiful, aunty?” said I to my old aunt Rachel, who had
been a silent witness of the scene I have just described; and I held
the pair of vases before her eyes.
“Why yes, they are rather pretty, Jane,” replied aunt Rachel, a
little coldly, as I thought.
“Rather pretty! They are beautiful,” said I warmly. “See there!” And
I placed them on the dining room mantle. “How much they will improve
our parlors.”
“Not half so much as that old coat you as good as gave away would
have improved the feelings as well as the looks of poor Mr. Bryan,
who lives across the street,” was the unexpected and rebuking answer
of aunt Rachel.
The words smote on my feelings. Mr. Bryan was a poor, but honest and
industrious young man, upon whose daily labor a wife and five
children were dependent. He went meanly clad, because he could not
earn enough, in addition to what his family required, to buy
comfortable clothing for himself. I saw, in an instant, what the
true disposition of the coat should have been. The china vases would
a little improve the appearance of my parlors; but how many pleasant
feelings and hours and days of comfort, would the old coat have
given to Mr. Bryan. I said no more. Aunt Rachel went on with her
knitting, and I took the vases down into the parlors and placed them
on the mantles—one in each room. But they looked small, and seemed
quite solitary. So I put one on each end of a single mantle. This
did better; still, I was disappointed in the appearance they made,
and a good deal displeased with myself. I felt that I had made a bad
bargain—that is, one from which I should obtain no real pleasure.
For a while I sat opposite the mantle-piece, looking at the
vases—but, not admiringly; then I left the parlor, and went about
my household duties, but, with a pressure on my feelings. I was far,
very far from being satisfied with myself.
About an hour afterwards my husband came home. I did not take him
into the parlor to show him my little purchase, for, I had no heart
to do so. As we sat at the tea table, he said, addressing me—
