look at the rooms provided for me.

The Duskydale Institution occupied a badly-repaired ten-roomed house,
with a great flimsy saloon built at one side of it, smelling of paint
and damp plaster, and called the Lecture Theater. It was the chilliest,
ugliest, emptiest, gloomiest place I ever entered in my life; the idea
of doing anything but sitting down and crying in it seemed to me quite
preposterous; but the committee took a different view of the matter,
and praised the Lecture Theater as a perfect ballroom. The Secretary's
apartments were two garrets, asserting themselves in the most barefaced
manner, without an attempt at disguise. If I had intended to do more
than earn my first quarter's salary, I should have complained. But as
I had not the slightest intention of remaining at Duskydale, I could
afford to establish a reputation for amiability by saying nothing.

"Have you seen Mr. Softly, the new Secretary? A most distinguished
person, and quite an acquisition to the neighborhood." Such was
the popular opinion of me among the young ladies and the liberal
inhabitants. "Have you seen Mr. Softly, the new Secretary? A worldly,
vainglorious young man. The last person in England to promote the
interests of our new Institution." Such was the counter-estimate of
me among the Puritan population. I report both opinions quite
disinterestedly. There is generally something to be said on either
side of every question; and, as for me, I can always hold up the scales
impartially, even when my own character is the substance weighing in
them. Readers of ancient history need not be reminded, at this time of
day, that there may be Roman virtue even in a Rogue.

The objects, interests, and general business of the Duskydale
Institution were matters with which I never thought of troubling myself
on assuming the duties of Secretary. All my energies were given to the
arrangements connected with the opening ball.

I was elected by acclamation to the office of general manager of the
entertainments; and I did my best to deserve the confidence reposed in
me; leaving literature and science, so far as I was concerned, perfectly
at liberty to advance themselves or not, just as they liked. Whatever
my colleagues may have done, after I left them, nobody at Duskydale
can accuse me of having ever been accessory to the disturbing of
quiet people with useful knowledge. I took the arduous and universally
neglected duty of teaching the English people ho