ead on three sides with impunity; or eat tamarinds at
every meal, running the risk of her own grimaces; or take her stewed
cherries with curious, undivided interest as to whether a sweet or sour
one will come next (dried cherries are a great consolation); and, being
allowed to help herself, can the better bring all the edibles to an end
at once upon her plate,--an indication of Providence that the proper
feast is finished. Wonderfully independent all this! Life with the
genuine bachelor flavor. As L. remarked, even the small broom in the
corner had a sturdy little way of standing alone.

Perhaps there is nothing finer than the throng of fancies that comes in
a solitary breakfast. Then one reaches hands of greeting to all the lone
artists taking their morning _acquavite_ in Rome; to the young students
of Germany at their early coffee and eggs; even remembering the lively
_grisette_ of Paris, as, with a parting fillip to her canary, she flits
forth from her upper room; and finally drinks to the memory of our own
Irving at his bachelor breakfast among the fountains and flowers in the
Court of Lions at the Alhambra.

And very sweet, too, it is, in the fall of the day, to sit by the rich,
ruby coals, and think of those who are far, until they come near; and of
that which is hoped for, until it seems that which is; to sit and dream,
till

"The breath of the great Lord God divine
Stirs the little red rose of a room."

This it is to keep house with a bread-knife and tumbler, a gridiron and
an individual salt. This it is to vitally understand the _multum in
parvo_ of existence. This it is to have used and mastered civilization.

But the total pecuniary result is, that the rent of the very smallest
room in central location--at the hub of the hub--will not be less than
three dollars per week, without light, heat, or furniture. Fire, and a
boy to make it, will be two dollars per week; light seventy-five cents
if gas, twenty-five cents if kerosene; this, with board at three
dollars, washing at one dollar per dozen, and the constant Tribune,
etc., brings one up to the pretty little sum of ten dollars per week,
without a single item of luxury, unless daily papers can be called
luxurious. Or, should one go out to breakfasts and dinners, nothing
tolerable can be had under five dollars per week; and this gives a total
of twelve dollars. Then, to complete one's life, there must be clothing,
literature, perhaps travel and