As I had foreseen from the beginning, my husband’s ideas of economy
were destined to mar everything. At one of the cabinet ware-rooms
was a very neat, well-made set of chairs, for which five dollars and
a half were asked, but which the dealer, seeing that he was beyond
our mark, offered for five dollars. They were cheap at that price.
But Mr. Smith could not see that they were a whit better than the
set of chairs just mentioned as offered for four dollars; and which
he was satisfied could be bought for three and a half. So I went
with him to look at them. They proved to be showy enough, if that
were any recommendation, but had a common look in my eyes. They were
not to be compared with the set we had just been examining.
“Now, are they not very beautiful, Jane?” said my husband. “To me
they are quite as handsome as those we were asked sixty dollars
for.”
From this I could not but dissent, seeing which, the cunning dealer
came quickly to my husband’s side of the question with various
convincing arguments, among the strongest of which was an abatement
in the price of the chairs—he seeing it to be for his interest to
offer them for three dollars and three-quarters a-piece.
“I’ll give you three and a-half,” said Mr. Smith, promptly.
“Too little, that, sir,” returned the dealer. “I don’t make a cent
on them at three and three-quarters. They are fully equal, in every
respect, to the chairs you were offered at five dollars. I know the
manufacturer, and have had his articles often.”
“Say three and a-half, and it’s a bargain,” was the only reply made
to this by my economical husband.
I was greatly in hopes that the man would decline this offer; but,
was disappointed. He hesitated for some time, and, at last, said:
“Well, I don’t care, take them along; though it is throwing them
away. Such a bargain you will never get again, if you live to be as
old as Mathuselah. But, now, don’t you want something else? I can
sell you cheaper and better articles in the furniture line than you
can get in the city. Small profits and quick sales—I go in for the
nimble sixpence.”
My husband was in the sphere of attraction, and I saw that it would
take a stronger effort on my part to draw him out than I wished to
make. So, I yielded with as good a grace as possible, and aided in
the selection of a cheap sofa, a cheap, overgrown centre table, and
two or three other article that were almost “thrown away.”
Well, our parlor was furnished with its new dress in good time, and
made quite a respectable appearance. Mr. Smith was delighted with
everything; the more particularly as the cost had been so moderate.
I had my own thoughts on the subject; and looked very confidently
for some evidences of imperfection in our great bargains. I was not
very long kept in suspense. One morning, about two weeks after all
had been fitted out so elegantly, while engaged in dusting the
chairs, a part of the mahogany ornament in the back of one of them
fell off. On the next day, another showed the same evidence of
imperfect workmanship. A few evenings afterwards, as we sat at the
centre table, one of our children leaned on it rather heavily, when
there was a sudden crack, and the side upon which he was bearing his
weight, swayed down the distance of half an inch or more. The next
untoward event was the dropping of one of its feet by the sofa, and
the warping up of a large piece of veneering on the back. While
lamenting over this, we discovered a broken spring ready to make its
way through the hair cloth covering.
“So much for cheap furniture,” said I, in a tone of involuntary
triumph.
My husband looked at me half reproachfully, and so I said no more.
It was now needful to send for a cabinet maker, and submit our sofa
and chairs to his handy workmanship. He quickly discovered other
imperfections, and gave us the consoling information that our fine
furniture was little above fourth-rate in quality, and dear at any
price. A ten dollar bill was required to pay the damage they had
already sustained, even under our careful hands.
A more striking evidence of our folly in buying cheap furniture was,
however, yet to come. An intimate friend came in one evening to sit
a few hours with us. After conversing for a time, both he and my
husband took up books, and commenced reading, while I availed myself
of the opportunity to write a brief letter. Our visitor, who was a
pretty stout man, had the bad fault of leaning back in his chair,
and balancing himself on its hind legs; an experiment most trying to
the best mahogany chairs that were ever made.
We were all sitting around the centre table, upon which burned a
tall astral lamp, and I was getting absorbed in my letter, when
suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by the breaking of the
table from its centre, and the pitching over of the astral lamp,
which, in falling, just grazed my side, and went down, oil and all,
upon our new carpet! An instant more, and we were in total darkness.
But, ere the light went out, a glance had revealed a scene that I
shall never forget. Our visitor, whose weight, as he tried his usual
balancing experiment, had caused the slender legs of his chair to
snap off short, had fallen backwards. In trying to save himself, he
had caught at the table, and wrenched that from its centre
fastening. Startled by this sudden catastrophe, my husband had
sprung to his feet, grasping his chair with the intent of drawing it
away, when the top of the back came off in his hand. I saw all this
at a single glance—and then we were shrouded in darkness.
Of the scene that followed, I will not speak. My lady readers can,
without any effort of the mind, imagine something of its
unpleasant reality. As for our visitor, when lights were brought in,
he was no where to be seen. I have a faint recollection of having
heard the street door shut amid the confusion that succeeded the
incident just described.
About a week afterwards, the whole of our cheap furniture was sent
to auction, where it brought less than half its first cost. It was
then replaced with good articles, by good workmen, at a fair price;
not one of which has cost us, to this day, a single cent for
repairs.
A housekeeping friend of mine, committed, not, long since, a similar
error. Her husband could spare her a couple of hundred dollars for
re-furnishing purposes; but, as his business absorbed nearly all of
his time and thoughts, he left with her the selection of the new
articles that were to beautify their parlors and chambers, merely
saying to her:
“Let what you get be good. It is cheapest in the end.”
Well, my friend had set her heart on a dozen chairs, a new sofa,
centre table, and “what-not,” for her parlors; and on a
dressing-bureau, mahogany bedstead, and wash-stand, for her chamber,
besides a new chamber carpet. Her first visit was to the ware-rooms
of one of our best cabinet makers; but, his prices completely
frightened her—for, at his rate, the articles she wanted would
amount to more than all the money she had to spend, and leave
nothing for the new chamber carpet.
“I must buy cheaper,” said she.
“The cheapest is generally dearest in the end,” returned the cabinet
maker.
“I don’t know about that,” remarked the lady, whose thoughts did not
take in the meaning of the man’s words. “All I know is, that I can
get as good articles as I desire at lower prices than you ask.”