 | Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family |  |
MRS. PARTINGTON AT THE OPERA.
We were surprised, at the opera, last evening, by
having a hand placed upon our shoulder. It was a
gentle touch; altogether unlike certain other touches on
the shoulder that delinquent men so much dread. It
came at a time when we were all absorbed by the melody
of the charming Sontag, and were provoked at the intrusion.
“Will you be kind enough to lend me your observatory?”
asked a voice that we thought we remembered.
Looking round, “Great heavens!” we cried, “Mrs.
Partington!”
It was, indeed, that estimable dame, but yet it was
not; for the black bonnet had disappeared, and a new
rigolette adorned her venerable poll, beneath which every
sprig of wavy gray was securely tucked. But the smile
was there, as warm as a June morning at nine o'clock.
She repeated the request to use the pearl and diamond-studded
opera-glass, that we had hired at Fetridge's for
twenty-five cents, — denominating it an “observatory.”
“Is this the right pocus?” said she; “I s'pose I shall
have to digest it to my sight, for my poor visionary orgies
are giving out.”
She levelled both barrels at the singers at once, and
brought them down to her, and Pozzolini directed three
successive appeals to her tenderness.
“It a'n't no use,” said she, as she handed the glass;
bought one of the lab'ratories at the door.”
She beat time gracefully to the music for a while upon
the cover of her snuff-box, and then went out, like an
exhausted candle, to try and light on Ike, who was
trading for a jacknife with another boy on the gallery
stairs.
| Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family | |