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diff --git a/16800.txt b/16800.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb666d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/16800.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7890 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Secret of a Happy Home (1896), by Marion Harland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Secret of a Happy Home (1896) + +Author: Marion Harland + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [EBook #16800] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF A HAPPY HOME (1896) *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sankar Viswanathan, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + THE + + Secret of a Happy Home + + + + BY + + MARION HARLAND + + + + PUBLISHED BY + THE CHRISTIAN HERALD, + LOUIS KLOPSCH, Proprietor, + BIBLE HOUSE, NEW YORK. + + + + Copyright, 1896, BY LOUIS KLOPSCH. + + + + + +Dedication. + + +To My Children, +"The Blessed Three," +Whose Love and Loyalty +Have made mine a Happy Home +And my Life Worth Living, +The volume is +Gratefully Dedicated. + +MARION HARLAND. + + + + +The Secret of a Happy Home. + + + + +INTRODUCTORY. + + +An Open Secret, + +CHAPTER I. + +Sisterly Discourse with John's Wife Concerning +John, + +CHAPTER II. + +The Family Purse, + +CHAPTER III. + +The Parable of the Rich Woman and the +Farmer's Wife, + +CHAPTER IV. + +Little Things that are Trifles, + +CHAPTER V. + +A Mistake on John's Part, + +CHAPTER VI. + +"Chink-Fillers," + +CHAPTER VII. + +Must-haves and May-bes, + +CHAPTER VIII. + +What Good Will It Do? + +CHAPTER IX. + +Shall I Pass It On? + +CHAPTER X. + +"Only Her Nerves," + +CHAPTER XI. + +The Rule of Two, + +CHAPTER XII + +The Perfect Work of Patience, + +CHAPTER XIII. + +According to His Folly, + +CHAPTER XIV. + +"Buttered Parsnips," + +CHAPTER XV. + +Is Marriage Reformatory? + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"John's" Mother, + +CHAPTER XVII. + +And Other Relations-in-Law, + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A Timid Word for the Step-mother, + +CHAPTER XIX. + +Children as Helpers, + +CHAPTER XX. + +Children as Burden-bearers, + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Our Young Person, + +CHAPTER XXII. + +Our Boy, + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +That Spoiled Child, + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +Getting Along in Years, + +CHAPTER XXV. + +Truth-telling, + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +The Gospel of Conventionalities, + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +Familiar, or Intimate? + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +Our Stomachs, + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +Cheerfulness as a Christian Duty, + +CHAPTER XXX. + +The Family Invalid, + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +A Temperance Talk, + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +Family Music, + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +Family Religion, + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +A Parting Word for Boy, + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +Homely, But Important, + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +Four-Feet-Upon-a-Fender, + + + + +INTRODUCTORY. + + + + +AN OPEN SECRET. + + +Some one asked me the other day, if I were not "weary of being so +often put forward to talk of 'How to Make Home Happy,' a subject upon +which nothing new could be said." + +My answer was then what it is now: Were I to undertake to utter +one-thousandth part that the importance of the theme demands, the +contest would be between me and Time. I should need "all the time +there is." + +Henry Ward Beecher once prefaced a lecture delivered during the Civil +War by saying: "The Copperhead species chancing to abound in this +locality, I have been requested to select as my subject this evening +something that will not be likely to lead to the mention of Slavery." + +"I confess myself to be somewhat perplexed by this petition," the +orator went on to say, with the twinkle in his eye we all +recollect--"for I have yet to learn of any subject that could not +easily lead me up to the discussion of a sin against God and man which +I could not exaggerate were every letter a Mt. Sinai--I mean, +American Slavery." + +Likening the lesser to the greater, allow me to say that I cannot +imagine any topic worthy the attention of God-fearing, humanity-loving +men and women that would not be connected in some degree, near or +remote, with "Home, and How to Make Home Happy." + +The general principles underlying home-making of the right kind are as +well-known as the fact that what is named gravitation draws falling +bodies to the earth. These principles may be set down roughly as +Order, Kindness and Mutual Forbearance. Upon one or another of these +pegs hangs everything which enters into the comfort and pleasure of +the household, taken collectively and individually. They are the +beams, the uprights and the roofing of the building. + +The chats, more or less confidential and altogether unconventional, +which I propose to hold with the readers of this modest volume have to +do with certain sub-laws which are so often overlooked that--to return +to the figure of the building--the wind finds its way through chinks; +the floors creak and the general impression is that of bare +homeliness. House and Home go together upon tongue and upon pen as +naturally as hook-and-eye, shovel-and-tongs, knife-and-fork,--yet +the coupling is rather a trick learned through habit than an act of +reason. The words are not synonyms of necessity or in fact. + +Upon these, the first pages of my unconventional book, I avow my +knowledge of what, so far from humiliating, stimulates me--to wit, +that nine-tenths of those who will look beyond the title-page will be +women. This is well, and as I would have it to be, for without +feminine agency no house, however well appointed, can be anything +higher than an official residence. + +Man's first possession in a world then unmarred by sin was a +dwelling-place--but Eden was not a home until the woman joined him +there. Throughout the ages and all over the world, as mother, wife, +sister, daughter (often, let me observe in passing, as old-maid aunt) +she has stood with him as the representative of the rest, sympathy and +love to be found nowhere except under his own roof-tree, and beside +his own fireside. It is not the house that makes the home, any more +than it is the jeweled case that makes the watch, or the body that +makes the human being. It is the Presence, the nameless influence +which is the earliest acknowledged by the child, and the latest to be +forgotten by man or woman. The establishment of this power is +essentially woman's prerogative. + +In this one respect--I dare not say in any other--we outrank our +brothers. They can build palaces and the furniture that fits them up +in regal state; they can, even better than we, prepare for the royal +tables food convenient for them, and fashion the attire of the +revelers, and make the music and sing the songs and write the books +and paint the pictures of the world. They may make and execute our +laws and sail our seas, and fight our battles, and--after dutiful +consultation with us--cast our votes. There is no magnanimity in +admitting all this. It is the due of that noblest work of God, a +strong, good, gentle man to receive the concession and to know how +frankly we make it. To them as theologians, logicians, impartial +historians, as priests, prophets, and kings--we do cheerful obeisance, +yet with the look of one who but half hides a happy secret in her +heart that compensates for all she resigns. There is not a +true-hearted woman alive who would give up her birthright to +become--we will say Christopher Columbus himself. + +It must be a fine thing, though, to be a man on some accounts;--to be +emancipated forever-and-a-day from the thraldom of skirts for +instance, and to push through a crowd to read the interjectional +headlines upon a bulletin board, instead of going meekly and +unenlightened home, to be told by John three hours later that "a +woman's curiosity passes masculine comprehension, and that he is too +tired and hungry to talk." It must be a satisfaction to be able to hit +another nail with a hammer than that attached to one's own thumb, and +to hurl a stone from the shoulder instead of tossing it from the +wrist; there must be sublimity in the thrill with which the stroke-oar +of the 'Varsity's crew bends to his work, and the ecstasy of the +successful crack pitcher of a baseball team passes the descriptive +power of a woman's tongue. Nevertheless, the greatest architectural +genius who ever astonished the world with a pyramid, a cathedral, or a +triumphal street-arch, could never create and keep a Home. The meanest +hut in the Jersey meadows, the doorway of which frames in the dusk of +evening the figure of a woman with a baby in her arms, silhouetted +upon the red background of fire and lamp kindled to welcome the +returning husband and father, harbors as guest a viewless but +"incomparable sweet" angel that never visits the superb club-house +where men go from spirit to spirit in the vain attempt to make home of +that which is no home. + +"You write--do you?" snarled Napoleon I, insolently to the wittiest +woman of the Paris salons. "What, for instance, have been some of your +works since you have been in this country?" + +"Three children, sire!" retorted the mother of Madame Emile de +Girardin. + +It was this same ready witted mother whom another woman pronounced the +happiest of mortals. + +"She does everything well--children, books and preserves." + +Her range was wide. Comparatively few of her sex can grasp that +octave. Upon the simplest, as upon the wisest, Heaven has bestowed the +talent of home-making, precious and incommunicable. + +Woman's Work in the Home! Taking up, without irreverence, the +magnificent hyperbole of the beloved disciple, I may truly say, "that +if they should be written, every one, I suppose the world itself would +not contain the books that would be written." + +Let us touch one or two points very briefly. I have said that men can +furnish houses more artistically than we, and that as professional +cooks they surpass us. It should follow naturally that men, to whose +hearts the stomach is the shortest thoroughfare, would, in a body, +resort to hotels for daily food. There is but one satisfactory +explanation of the unphilosophical fact that the substantial citizen +who, during a domestic interregnum, makes the experiment of three +meals a day for one month at the best restaurant in New York City (and +there are no better anywhere) returns with gladness and singleness of +heart to his own extension-table--and that were I to put the question +"Contract Cookery or Home Cookery?" to the few Johns who deign to +peruse these lines, the acclaim would be--"Better, as everyday fare, +is a broiled beefsteak and a mealy potato at home, than a palatial +hotel and ten courses." + +There is individuality in the steak broiled for John's very self, and +sentiment in the pains taken to keep the starch in his potato, and +solid satisfaction in putting one's knees under his own mahogany. The +least romantic of gourmands objects to stirring his appetite into a +common vat with five hundred others. But there is something back of +all this that makes home-fare delicious, when the house mother smiles +across the dish she has sweetened with love and spiced with good-will, +and thus transformed it into a message from her heart to the hearts of +the dear ones to whom she ministers. + +John--being of the masculine gender according to a decree of Nature, +and, therefore, irresponsible for the slow pace at which his wits +move--may not be able at once to analyze the odd heartache he feels in +surveying the apartments fitted up by the upholsterer--or to tell you +why they become no longer a tri-syllabled word, but "our rooms," +within a day after wife and daughters have taken possession of them. +The honest fellow cannot see but that the furniture is the same, and +each article standing in the same place--but the new atmosphere "which +is the old," greets him upon the threshold, and steals into his heart +before he has fairly entered. Anybody could have shaken the stiffness +out of that portiere, and put a low, shaded lamp under the picture he +likes best, and broken up the formal symmetry of the bric-a-brac that +reminded him, although he did not dare confess it, of a china shop, +and set a slender vaselet with one big ragged golden globe of a +chrysanthemum in it here, and over there a bowl of long-stemmed +roses--(his favorite Bon Silenes, too). But what hireling, O blind and +dear John! would have left a bit of fancy work with the needle +sticking in it, and scissors lying upon it, on the table in library or +smoking room, and put the song you always ask for at twilight upon the +open piano, and, just where you would choose to cast yourself down to +listen, your especial Sleepy Hollow of chair or lounge with the +slumber robe worked last Christmas by loving fingers thrown invitingly +across it? + +What professional art could make the vestibule of your house--a rented +cottage, maybe--the gateway to another, and a purer, higher, happier +sphere than the world you shut out with the closing of the front +door? You would never get upon so much as bowing terms with your +better self but for that front door and the latch key which lets you +into the hall brightened by loving smiles, made merry by welcoming +voices. + +Talk of the prose of everyday life! When Poetry is hounded from every +other nook of the earth which the Maker of it meant should be one +vast, sublime epic, she will find an inviolable retreat under the +Lares and Penates guarding the ingleside, and crown as priestess +forever the wife and mother who makes and keeps the Home. + +It could hardly be otherwise. To no other of his co-workers does the +Lord of life grant such opportunities as to woman. Her baby is laid in +the mother's arms to have, and to hold, and to fashion, without let or +hindrance. His mind and heart are unwritten paper, and Nature and +Providence unite in waving aside all who would interfere with what she +chooses to inscribe thereupon. Her growing boys and girls believe in +her with absoluteness no other friend will ever inspire--not in her +love alone, but in her infallibility and her omnipotence. It is a +moment of terror and often the turning point in a child's life, when +first he comprehends that there are hurts his mother cannot heal, +knowledge which he needs and she cannot impart. + +If the boundaries of home seem sometimes to circumscribe a woman's +sphere, they are also a safe barricade within which husband, and the +children who have come to man's estate, find retreat from the outer +storm and stress, a sanctuary where love feeds the flame upon the +domestic altar. There, the atmosphere, like that of St. Peter's +Church, never changes. It refreshes when the breath of the world is a +simoon, withering heart and strength. When the winds of adversity are +bleak, the shivering wanderer returns to the fold, "curtained and +closed and warm--" to gather force for to-morrow's strain. + + "Love, rest and home!" + +we sing with moistened eyes. The blessed three are put in trust with +woman. Other stations of honor and usefulness may be opened to her, +but this is the realm of which nothing can dispossess her. The leaven +that leavens the nations is wrought by her hands. Hers is the seedtime +that determines what harvest the Master shall reap. To her is +committed the holy task of preserving all that we can know of a lost +paradise until we see the light flash out for our eager eyes from the +wide doors of what--when we would draw it nearest and make it dearest +to our hearts--we call our Changeless Home. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SISTERLY DISCOURSE WITH JOHN'S WIFE CONCERNING JOHN. + + +John is not John until he is married. He assumes the sobriquet at the +altar as truly as his bride takes the title of "Mistress" or "Madame." +Once taken, the name is generic, inalienable and untransferable. Yet, +as few men marry until they have attained legal majority, it follows +that your John--my John--every wife's John--must have been in making +for a term of years before he fell into our hands. + +Sometimes he is marred in the making. + +The most loyal wife admits to her inmost self in the most confidential +season of self-communion, that she could have brought up her husband +better than his mother or whatever feminine relative had the training +of him succeeded in doing. An opinion which, I remark, is not shared +by the relative in question. The mother of a growing son will know how +to sympathize with her Mamma-in-law, when her own son-- + + "--will a-wooing go, + Whether his mother will or no." + +I am John's advocate and best friend, but I cannot withhold the +admission that he has some grave faults, and one or two incurable +disabilities. Grappling, forthwith, with the most obstinate of these +last--I name it boldly. John is not--he never can be--and would not be +if he could--a woman. Taking into consideration the incontrovertible +truth that nobody but a woman ever understood another woman--the +situation is serious enough. So desperate in fact, that every mother's +daughter of the missionary sex is fired with zealous desire to mend +it, and chooses for a subject her own special John--_in esse_ or _in +posse_. + +This may sound like badinage, but it is uttered in sad earnest. The +wife's irrational longing to extract absolute sympathy of taste, +opinion and feeling, from her wedded lord, is a baneful growth which +is as sure to spring up about the domestic hearth as pursley--named by +the Indian, "the white man's foot"--to show itself about the +squatter's door. Once rooted it is as hard to eradicate as plantain +and red sorrel. + +I brand it as "irrational," because common sense shows the extreme +improbability that two people--born of different stocks, and brought +up in different households--the man, sometimes, in no household at +all--should each be the exact counterpart of the other; should come +together provided respectively, with the very qualities, likes and +dislikes, that the partner needs and prefers. + +Add to the improbability aforesaid the inevitable variance of views +upon divers important subjects consequent upon the standpoint +masculine and the standpoint feminine, and the wonder grows--not that +some marriages are unhappy, but that a large percentage of wedded +couples jog on comfortably, and, if not without jar, without open +scandal. That they do speaks volumes for the wisdom of Him who +ordained marriage as man's best estate--and something--not +volumes--perhaps, but a pamphlet or two--in behalf of human powers of +philosophical endurance. + +Before going farther it would be well to look our subject in the +face--inspect it fairly and without prejudice pro or con. + +Stand forth, honest John! and let us behold you, as God made and your +mother--in blood, or in heart--trained you. Let the imagination of my +readers survey him, as he plants himself before us. Albeit a trifle +more conscious than a woman would be in like circumstances, of the +leading fact that he has the full complement of hands and feet usually +prescribed by Nature, he bears scrutiny bravely. He is what he would +denominate in another, "a white man;" square in his dealings with his +fellow-men and with a soft place, on the sunny side of his heart, for +the women. He would add--"God bless them!" did we allow him to speak. +Men of his sort rarely think of their own womenkind or of pure, gentle +womanhood in the abstract, without a benediction, mental or audible. + +Our specimen, you will note, as he begins to feel at ease in the +honorable pillory to which we have called him--puts his hands into his +pockets. The gesture supplies us with the first clause of our +illustrated lecture. Without his pockets John would be a cipher, and a +decimal cipher at that. If some men were not all pocket they would +never be Johns, for no Jill would be so demented as to "come tumbling +after" them. I have seen a pocket marry off a hump-back, a twisted +foot and sixty winters' fall of snow upon the head, while a pocketless +Adonis sighed in vain for Beauty's glance. A full pocket balances an +empty skull as a good heart cannot; a plethoric pocket overshadows +monstrous vices. + +But at his cleanly best, John's pockets are an integral part of his +personality. He feels after his pocket instinctively while yet in what +corresponds in the _genus homo_ with the polywog state in batrachia. +The incipient man begins to strut as soon as mamma puts pockets into +his kilted skirt--a stride as prophetic as the strangled crow of the +cockerel upon the lowest bar of the fence. + +The direst penance Johnny can know is to have his pockets stitched up +because he will keep his hands in them. To deny him the right is to do +violence to natural laws. He is the born money-maker, bread-winner, +provider--the _huesbonda_ of our Anglo-Saxon ancestry--and the pocket +is his heraldic symbol, his birthright. + +The pocket question obtrudes itself at an alarmingly early period of +married life--whoever may be the moneyed member of the new firm. When, +as most frequently happens, this is John, the ultra-conscientious may +think that he ought, prior to the wedding-day, to have hinted to his +highland or lowland Mary, that he did not intend to throw unlimited +gold into her apron every day. If he had touched this verity however +remotely, she would not have married him. The man who speaks the +straight-forward truth in such circumstances might as well put a knife +to his throat, if love and life are synonyms. + +Honest John, thrusting his hands well towards the bottom of his +pockets, smiles sheepishly, yet knowingly, in listening to this +"discourse." Courtship is one thing and marriage is another in his +code. Mary's primal mistake is in assuming--(upon John's authority, I +regret as his advocate to say), that the two states are one and the +same. Moonlight vows and noonday action should, according to her +theory, be in exact harmony. John does not deceive consciously. +Wemmick's office tenets differed diametrically from those he held at +Walworth where his aged parent toasted the muffins, and Miss. Skiffins +made the tea. The mellow fervency of John's "With all my worldly goods +I thee endow"--must be taken in a Pickwickian and Cupidian sense. +Reason and experience sustain him in the belief that a tyro should +learn a business before being put in charge of important interests. +Mary is a tyro whose abilities and discretion he must test before--in +the words of the old song--he + + "gives her the key of his chest, + To get the gold at her request." + +Most women take to married and home-life easily, because naturally. +The shadow of the roof-tree, the wholesome restraint of household +routine and the peaceful monotony of household tasks accord well with +preconceived ideas and early education. John's liking for domesticity +is usually an acquired taste, like that for olives and caviare, and to +gain aptitude for the duties it involves, requires patience. He needs +filing down and chinking, and rounding off, and sand-papering before +he fits decorously into the chimney-corner. And when there, he +sometimes does not "season straight." He was hewed across the grain, +or the native grain ran awry, or there is a knot in the wood. + +"Why were those newel posts oiled before they were set up?" I asked of +a carpenter. + +"T' keep'em from checkin', to be sure." + +"Checking?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Goin' in shaller cracks all over, 's wood's apt to do +without it's properly treated beforehand. Sometimes 'twould crack +clean through ef 'twarnt for the ile." + +In his new position John is apt "to go in shaller cracks all over," +unless his feminine trainer has been judicious in the use of +lubricants--assuasive and dissuasive. If handled aright by the owner +he, to do him justice, rarely "cracks clean through." + +"Checking" in this case signifies the lack of the small, sweet +courtesies which are the peaceable fruits of the Gospel of +Conventionality. Breeding, good or bad, environs the growing lad, as +Wordsworth tells us heaven lies about us in our infancy. The boy whose +mother allows him to lounge into her presence with his cap upon his +head, whose sisters wink indulgently at his shirt sleeves in parlor +and at table--will don his hat and doff his coat in his wife's +sitting-room. Politeness, like gingerbread, is only excellent when +home-made, and is not to be bought for money. + +I wonder if John--disposed by nature and too often by education to +hold such niceties of custom as trifles and cheap--suspects what a +blow is dealt to his wife's ideals when he begins to show, either that +he respects her less than of old, or that he is less truly a gentleman +than his careful conservation of elegant proprieties during their +courtship led her to imagine. It costs him but a second's thought and +slight muscular exertion to lift his hat in kissing her on leaving +home in the morning, and in returning at evening. It ought not to be +an effort for him to rise to his feet when she enters the room, and to +comport himself at her table and in her drawing-room as he would at +the board and in the parlor of his neighbor's wife. Each of these +slight civilities elevates her in her own and in others' eyes, and +tends to give her her rightful place as queen of the home and of his +heart. She may be maid-of-all-work in a modest establishment, worn and +depressed by over-much drudgery, but in her husband's eyes she is the +equal of any lady in the land. Her stove-burned face and print gown do +not delude him as to her real position. Furthermore--and this hint is +directed sidewise at our "model"--a sense of the incongruity between +the fine courtesy of her husband's manner, and of slovenly attire upon +the object of his attentions--would incite her to neatness and +becomingness in dress. It is worth while to look well in the eyes of +one who never for a moment forgets that he is a gentleman, and his +wife a lady. + +When John finds himself excusing this and that lapse from perfect +breeding in his home life with the plea--"It is only my wife!" he +needs to look narrowly at his grain and his seasoning. He is in danger +of "checking." + +Being a man--or I would better say--not being a woman--John is +probably made up without domestic tact, and his wife must be on her +guard to cover the deficiency. For example, if by some mortifying +combination of mischances, a dish is scantily supplied, he helps it +out lavishly, scrapes the bottom officiously, and with innocent +barbarity calls your attention to the fact that it needs replenishing. + +"I tried once to hold my husband back from the brink of social +disaster," said one wife. "We sat opposite to one another at a dinner +party where the conversation neared a topic that would be, I knew, +extremely painful and embarrassing to our hostess. My John led the +talk--all unaware of the peril--and when the next sentence would, I +felt, be fatal, I pressed his foot under the table. What do you think +that blessed innocent did? Winced visibly and sharply--stopped short +in the middle of a word, and stared at me with pendulous jaw, +and--while everybody looked at him for the next breath--said, +resonantly--'_Jane! did you touch my foot?_'" + +The incident is essentially John-esque. I am as positive as if I had +called for a comparison of experience, that every wife who reads this +could furnish a parallel sketch from life. The average John is +impervious to glance or gesture. I know one who is a model husband in +most respects, who, when a danger-signal is hung out from the other +end of the table, draws general attention in diplomatic fashion thus-- + +"Halloo! I have no idea what I have done or said, now! but when Madame +gives her three-cornered frown, I know there are reefs ahead, on the +starboard or the larboard side, and I'd better take my soundings." + +Women are experts in this sort of telegraphy. From one of them, such +an _expose_ would mean downright malice, or mischief, and be +understood as such. John's voiced bewilderment may be harmful, but it +is as guileless as a baby's. It may be true that men are deceivers +ever, in money or love affairs. In everyday home life, there is about +the most sophisticated, a simplicity of thought and word, a +transparency of motive, and, when vanity is played upon cunningly, a +naive gullibility--that move us to wondering admiration. It, +furthermore, I grieve to admit, furnishes manoeuvring wives with a +ready instrument for the accomplishment of their designs. + +For another fixed fact in the natural history of John is that, however +kindly and intelligent and reasonable he may be--he needs, in double +harness, to be cleverly managed, to be coaxed and petted up to what +else would make him shy. If driven straight at it, the chances are +forty-eight out of fifty that he will balk or bolt. + +A stock story of my girlish days was of a careless, happy-go-lucky +housewife, who, upon the arrival of unexpected guests, told her maid +"not to bother about changing the cloth, but to set plates and dishes +so as to humor the spots." + +She is a thrifty, not a slovenly manager, who accommodates the trend +of daily affairs to humor her John's peculiarities and foibles; who +ploughs around stumps, and, instead of breaking the share in tough +roots, _eases up_, and goes over them until they decay of themselves. +In really good ground they leave the soil the richer for having +suffered natural decomposition. If John is prone to savagery when +hungry (and he usually is), our wise wife will wait until he has dined +before broaching matters that may ruffle his spirit. + +It is more than likely that he has the masculine bias toward +wet-blanketism that tries sanguine women's souls more sorely than open +opposition. Some Johns make it a point of manly duty to discourage at +first hearing any plan that has originated with a woman. I am fond of +John, but this idiosyncrasy cannot be ignored. Nor is it entirely +explicable upon any principle known in feminine ethics, unless it be +intended by Providence as a counterweight to the womanly proclivity to +see but one side of a question when we are interested in carrying it +to a vote. John is as positive that there are two sides to everything, +as Columbus was that the Eastern Hemisphere must have something to +balance it. When Mary looks to him for instant assent and earnest +sympathy, he casts about for objections, and sets them in calm array. +She may have demonstrated in a thousand instances her ability to judge +and act for herself, and may preface her exposition of the case in +hand by saying that she has given it mature deliberation. It never +occurred to him until she mentioned it; he may have sincerest respect +for her sense and prudence--the chances are, nevertheless, a thousand +to one that he will begin his reply with-- + +"That is all very well, my dear--but you must reflect, that, etc., +etc., et cetera"--each et cetera a dab of wet wool, taking out more +and more stiffening and color, until the beautiful project hangs, a +limp rag, on her hands, a forlorn wreck over which she could weep in +self-pity. + +This is one of the "spots" to be "humored." Wives there are, and not a +few of them, sagacious and tender, who have learned the knack of +insinuating a scheme upon husbandly attention until the logical +spouses find themselves proposing--they believe of their own free +will--the very designs born of their partner's brains. This is genius, +and the practical application thereof is an art in itself. It may also +be classified for John's admonition, as the natural reaction of +ingenious wits against wet-blanketism. The funniest part of the +transaction is that John never suspects the ruse, even at the +hundredth repetition, and esteems himself, in dogged complacency, the +author of his spouse's goodliest ideas. + +Such a one dreads nothing more than the reputation of being ruled by +his wife. The more hen-pecked he is, the less he knows it--and vice +versa. "He jests at scars who never felt a wound." She who has her +John well in hand has broken him in too thoroughly to allow him to +resent the curb, or to play with the bit. + +His intentions--so far as he knows them--are so good, he tries so +steadfastly to please his wife--he is so often piteously +perplexed--this big, burly, blundering, blind-folded, _blessed_ John +of ours--that our knowledge of his disabilities enwraps him in a +mantle of affectionate charity. His efforts to master the delicate +intricacy of his darling's mental and spiritual organization may be +like the would-be careful hold of thumb and finger upon a butterfly's +wing, but the pain he causes is inconceivable by him. The suspicion of +hurt to the beautiful thing would break his heart. He could more +easily lie down and die for her than sympathize intelligently in her +vague, delicious dreams, the aspirations, half agony, half rapture, +which she cannot convey to his comprehension--yet which she feels that +he ought to share. + +Ah! the pathos and the pity--sometimes the godlike patience of that +silent side of our dear John! Mrs. Whitney, writing of Richard +Hathaway, tells us enough of it to beget in us infinite tolerance. + +"Everything takes hold away down where I can't reach or help," says +the poor fellow of his sensitive, poetical wife. "She is all the time +holding up her soul to me with a thorn in it." + +"He did not know that that was poetry and pathos. It was a natural +illustration out of his homely, gentle, compassionate life. He knew +how to help dumb things in their hurts. His wife he could not help." + +It reminds us of Ham Peggotty's tender adjustment upon his palm of the +purse committed to him by Emily for fallen Martha. + +"'Such a toy as it is!' apostrophized Ham, thoughtfully, looking on +it. 'With, such a little money in it, Em'ly, my dear.'" + +We are reminded more strongly of rough, gray boulders holding in their +hearts the warmth of the sunshine for the comfortable growth of mosses +that creep over and cling to and beautify them. + +John is neither saint nor hero, except in Mary's fancy sketch of the +Coming Man. He remonstrates against canonization strenuously--dissent +that passes with the idealist for modesty, and enhances her +admiration. She is oftener to blame for the disillusion than he. With +the perverseness of feminine nature she construes strength into +coarseness of fibre, slowness into brutal indifference. Until women +get at the truth in this matter of self-deception, disappointment +surely awaits upon awakening from Love's young dream. + +The surest guard against the shock of broken ideals is to keep ever +before the mind that men are not to be measured by feminine standards +of perfection. Mary has as little perception of perspective as a +Chinese landscape painter; she colors floridly and her drawing is out +of line. + +Put John in his proper place as regards distances, shadow and +environment, and survey him in the cool white light of common sense. +Unless he is a _poseur_ of uncommon skill, he will appear best thus. + +Conjugal quarrels are so constantly the theme of ridicule and the text +of warnings to the unwedded that we lose sight of the plain truth that +husbands and wives bicker no more than parents and children, brothers +and sisters. In every community there are more blood-relations who do +not speak to one another than divorced couples. Wars and fightings +come upon us, not through matrimony so much as through the manifold +infirmities of mortal nature. John, albeit not a woman, is a +vertebrate human being, "with hands, organs, dimensions, senses, +affections, passions. If you prick him he will bleed, if you tickle +him he will laugh, if you poison him he will die." In the true +marriage, he is the wife's other self--one lobe of her brain--one +ventricle of her heart--the right hand to her left. This is the +marriage the Lord hath made. + +The occasional clash of opinions, the passing heat of temper, are but +surface-gusts that do not stir the brooding love of hearts at rest in +one another. + +While John remains loyal to his wedded wife, forsaking all others and +cleaving to her alone, the inventory of his faults should be a sealed +book to her closest confidante, the carping discussion of his failings +be prohibited by pride, affection and right taste. This leads me to +offer one last tribute to our patient (and maybe bored) subject. He +has as a rule, a nicer sense of honor in the matter of comment upon +his wife's shortcomings and foibles than she exhibits with regard to +his. + +Set it down to gallantry, chivalry, pride--custom--what you will--but +the truth sheds a lustre upon our John of which I mean he shall have +the full advantage. Perhaps the noblest reticence belongs to the +Silent Side of him. I hardly think it is because he has no yearning +for sympathy, no need of counsel, when he reluctantly admits to +himself that that upon which he has ventured most is, in some measure, +a disappointment. Be this as it may, Mary may learn discretion from +him--and the lesson conned should be forbearance with offensive +peculiarities, and, what she names to her sore spirit, lack of +appreciation. Given the conditions of his fidelity and devotion--and +she may well "down on her knees and thank God fasting for a good man's +love." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE FAMILY PURSE. + + +In the last chapter I touched, firmly, as became the importance of the +subject, upon the pocket question in its bearing upon the happiness of +home-life. The matter is too grave to be disposed of in half-a-dozen +paragraphs. It shall have a chapter of its very own. + +There are certain subjects upon which each of us is afraid to speak +for fear of losing temper, and becoming vehement. This matter of "The +Family Purse" is one of the few topics in all the range of theory and +practice, concerning which I feel the necessity of putting on curb and +bridle when I have to deal with it, and conscience urges just dealing +with all parties. + +I have set down elsewhere what I crave leave to repeat here and with +deliberate emphasis. + +If I were asked, "What, to the best of your belief, is the most +prolific and general source of heart-burnings, contentions, harsh +judgment, and secret unhappiness among respectable married people who +keep up the show, even to themselves, of reciprocal affection?" my +answer would not halt for an instant. + +"_The crying need of a mutual understanding with respect to the right +ownership of the family income_." + +The example of the good old Friend, who, in giving his daughters in +marriage, stipulated that each should be paid weekly, without asking +for it, a certain share of her husband's income, is refreshing as +indicating what one husband had learned by his own experience. It goes +no further in the absence of proof that the sons-in-law kept the +pledge imposed upon them as suitors, or that in keeping it, they did +not cause their respective wives to wish themselves dead, and out of +the way of gibe and grudge, every time the prescribed tax was doled +out to them. + +Nor do I admit the force of the implication made by a certain writer +upon this topic, that the crookedness in the matter of family finances +is "separation and hostility between the sexes, brought about by the +advancement and equality of women." Wives in all ages and in all +countries, have felt the painful injustice of virtual pauperism, and +struggled vainly for freedom. + +The growth toward emancipation in the case of most of them amounts +merely to the liberty to groan in print and to cry aloud in women's +convocations. If the yoke is easier upon the wifely neck in 1896 than +it was in 1846, it is because women know more of business methods, +and are more competent to the management of money than they knew fifty +years ago, and some husbands, appreciating the change for the better, +are willing to commit funds to their keeping. The disposition of +fathers, brothers and husbands to regard the feminine portion of their +families as lovely dead weights, was justified in a degree by the +Lauras and Matildas, who clung like wet cotton-wool to the limbs of +their natural protectors. Dependence was reckoned among womanly +graces, and insisted upon as such in _Letters to Young Ladies, The +Young Wife's Manual, A Father's Legacy to his Daughters_, and other +valuable contributions to the family library of half a century ago. +Julia, as betrothed, assured wooing Adolphus that absolute dependence, +even for the bread she should eat, and breath she should draw, would +be delight and privilege. Julia, as wife, fretted and plained and +shook her "golden chains inlaid with down," when married Adolphus took +her at her word. + +It is surprising that both parties were so slow in finding out how +false is the theory and how injurious the practice of the +cling-and-twine-and-hang-upon school. + +From my window as I write I see an object lesson that pertinently +illustrates the actual state of affairs in many a home. At the root +of a stately cedar, sprang up, twenty years ago, a shoot of that most +hardy and beautiful of native creepers, the wild woodbine or American +ivy. It crept steadily upward, laying hold of branch and twig, casting +out, first, tendrils, then ropes, to make sure its hold--a thing of +beauty all summer, a coat of many colors in autumn, until it reached +the top of the tree. To-day, the only vestige of cedar-individuality +that remains to sight, is in the trunk, the bare branches, stripped of +all slight twigs, and at the extremity of one of these, a few tufts of +evergreen verdure, that proclaim "This was a tree." + +In the novels and poems that set forth the eternal fitness of the +cling-twine-and-depend school, the vine is always feminine, the oak +(or cedar?) masculine. Not one that I know of depicts the gradual +strangling of the independent tree by the depending parasite. + +Leaving the object-lesson to do its part, let us reason together +calmly upon this vexed subject. When a man solemnly, in the sight of +Heaven and human witnesses, endows his wife at the altar with his +worldly goods, it is either a deed of gift, or an engagement to allow +her to earn her living as honestly as he earns his, a pledge of an +equal partnership in whatever he has or may acquire. That it is not an +absolute gift is proved by his continued possession of his property +and uncontrolled management of the same; furthermore, by his custom of +bestowing upon his wife such sums, and at such periods as best suit +his convenience and pleasure--and by his expectation that she will be +properly grateful for lodging, board and raiment. If he be liberal, +her gratitude rises proportionably. If he be a churl, she must submit +with Christian resignation. + +The gossips at a noted watering-place where I once spent a summer, +found infinite amusement in the ways of a married heiress, whose +fortune was settled so securely upon herself by her father that her +husband could not touch the bulk of it with, or without her consent. +Her spouse was an ease-loving man of fashion, and accommodated himself +gracefully to this order of things. She loved him better than she +loved her money, for she "kept" him well and grudged him nothing. It +was in accordance with her wishes that he made no pretence of business +or profession. "Why should he when she had enough for both?" she +urged, amiably. His handsome allowance was paid on the first of every +month, and she exacted no account of expenditures. Yet she contrived +to make him and herself the laughing stock of the place by her _naive_ +ignorance of the truth that the situation was peculiar. She sportively +rated her lord in the hearing of others, for extravagance in dress, +horses and other entertainments; affected to rail at the expense of +"keeping a husband," and, now and then, playfully threatened to "cut +off supplies" if he did not do this or that. In short, with +unintentional satire, she copied to the letter the speech and tone of +the average husband to his dependent wife. + +"Only that and nothing more." Her purse-pride was obvious, but as +inoffensive as purse-pride can be. She lacked refinement, but she did +not lack heart. She would have resented the imputation that she +reduced her good-looking, well-clothed, well-fed, well-mounted +"Charley" to a state of vassalage against which any man of spirit +would have rebelled. He knew that he could have whatever it was within +her power to bestow, to the half of her kingdom. Her complaints of his +prodigality meant as little as her menace of retrenchment, and nobody +comprehended this better than he. The owner of the money-bags is +entitled by popular verdict to his or her jest. Her pretended railing +was "clear fun." + +The deeper and juster significance of the much derided clause of the +marriage vow is the second I have offered. "Live and let live" is a +motto that should begin, continue and be best exemplified at home. The +wife either earns an honorable livelihood, or she is a licensed +mendicant. The man who, after a careful estimate of the services +rendered by her who keeps the house, manages his servants, or does the +work of the servants he does not hire; who bears and brings up his +children in comfort, respectability and happiness; who looks after his +clothing and theirs; nurses him and them in illness, and makes the +world lovely for him in health--does not consider that his wife has +paid her way thus far, and is richly entitled to all he has given or +will ever give her--is not fit to conduct any business upon business +principles. If he be sensible and candid, let him decide what salary +he can afford to pay this most useful of his employes--and pay it as a +debt, and not a gratuity. The probability is that he will find that +the sum justifies her in regarding herself as a partner in his craft +or profession, with a fair amount of working-capital. + +There is but one equitable and comfortable way of relieving the +husband from the charge and the fact of injustice, and the wife from +the sorer burden of conscious pauperism. She ought to have a stated +allowance for household expenses, to be disbursed by herself and, if +he will it, to be accounted for to the master of the house, and a +smaller, but sure sum which is paid to her as her very own, which she +may appropriate as she likes. He should no more "give" her money, +than he makes a present of his weekly wages to the porter who sweeps +his store, or to the superintendent of his factory. The feeling that +their gloves, gowns, underclothing--everything that they wear, and the +very bread that keeps life in their bodies, are gifts of grace from +the husbands they serve in love and honor, has worn hundreds of +spirited women into their graves, and made venal hypocrites of +thousands. The double-eagle laid in the palm of the woman whose home +duties leave her no time for money-making, burns sometimes more hotly +than the penny given to her who, for the first time, begs at the +street-corner to keep herself from starving. + +The strangest of anomalies that have birth in a condition of affairs +which everybody has come to regard as altogether right and becoming, +is that the wife whose handsome wedding portion has been absorbed by +her husband's business is as dependent upon his favor for her "keep" +as she who brought no dot. She does not even draw interest upon the +money invested. Is it to be wondered at that caustic critics of human +nature and inconsistencies catalogue marriage for the wife under the +head of mendicancy? Would it not be phenomenal if women with eyes, and +with brains behind the eyes, did not gird at the necessity of suing +humbly for really what belongs to them? + +I have known two, or at most three women, who averred that they "did +not mind asking their husbands for money." Out of simple charity I +preferred to believe that they were untruthful, to discounting their +disrespect and delicacy to the extent implied by the assertion. Yet +the street beggar gets used to plying his trade, and I may have been +mistaken. + +Let us not overlook another side of the question under perplexed +debate. The woman who considers herself defrauded by present +privations and what seem to her needless economies, loses sight, +sometimes, of what John keeps before him as the load-star of his +existence and endeavor; to wit, that toil and economy are for the +common weal. He is not a miser for his individual enrichment, nor does +he plan with deliberate design for the shadowy second wife. It is not +to be denied that No. 2 often lives like a queen upon the wealth which +No. 1 helped to accumulate, and killed herself in so doing. But John +does not look so far as this. Much scrimping and hoarding may engender +a baser love of money for money's self. In the outset of the task, and +usually for all time, he means that wife and children shall have the +full benefit of what he has heaped up in the confident belief that he +knows who will gather with him. Men take longer views in these matters +than women. To "draw money out of the business" is a form of speech +to a majority of wives. To him whose household expenses overrun what +he considers the bounds of reason, this "drawing" means harder work +and to less purpose for months to come; clipped wings of enterprise, +and occasionally loss of credit. He who has married a reasonably +intelligent woman cannot make her comprehend this too soon. If he can +enlist her sympathies in his plans for earning independence and +wealth, he has secured a valuable coadjutor. If he can show her that +he is investing certain moneys which are due to her in ways approved +by her, which will augment her private fortune, he will retain her +confidence with her respect. + +Each of us likes to own something in his or her own right. The custom +and prejudice that, since the abolition of slavery, make wives the +solitary exception to the rule that the "laborer is worthy of his +hire," are unworthy of a progressive age. The idea that such having +and holding will alienate a good woman from the husband who permits +it, degrades the sex. He whose manliness suffers by comparison with a +level-headed, clear-eyed wife capable of keeping her own bank account, +makes apparent what a mistake she made when she married _him_. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE PARABLE OF THE RICH WOMAN AND THE FARMER'S WIFE. + + +The rich woman was born and brought up in New York City; the farmer's +wife in Indiana. + +They were as far apart in education and social station as if they had +belonged to different races and had lived in different hemispheres. + +They were as near akin in circumstances and in suffering as if they +had been twin sisters, and brought up under the same roof. + +The husband of one wrote "Honorable" before his name, and reckoned his +dollars by the million. He was, moreover, a man of imposing +deportment, bland in manner and ornate in language. As riches +increased he set his heart upon them and upon the good things that +riches buy. He had four children, and he erected ("built" was too +small a word) a palatial house in a fashionable street. + +Each child had a suite of three rooms. Each apartment was elaborately +decorated and furnished. The drawing-rooms were crowded with +bric-a-brac and monuments of the upholsterer's ingenuity. It was a +work of art and peril to dust them every day. He developed a taste for +entertaining as time went on and honors thickened upon him, and he +mistook, like most of his guild, ostentation for hospitality. Every +dish at the banquets for which he became famous was a show piece. He +swelled with honest pride in the perusal of a popular personal +paragraph estimating the value of his silver and cut glass at $50,000. + +The superintendent, part owner, and the slave of all this magnificence +was his wife. She was her own housekeeper, and employed, besides the +coachman, whose business was in the stables and upon his box, five +servants. There were twenty-five rooms in the palatial house, giving +to each servant five to be kept in the spick-and-span array demanded +by the master's position and taste. As a matter of course something +was neglected in every department, the instinct of self-preservation +being innate and cultivated in Abigail, Phyllis and Gretchen, "Jeems" +and "Chawls." Even more as a matter of course, the nominal mistress +supplemented the deficiencies of her aids. + +The house was as present and forceful a consciousness with her as his +Dulcinea with David Copperfield at the period when the "sun shone +Dora, and the birds sang Dora, and the south wind blew Dora, and the +wild flowers were all Doras to a bud." No snail ever carried her abode +upon her back more constantly than our poor rich woman the +satin-lined, hot-aired and plate-windowed stone pile, with her. The +lines that criss-crossed her forehead, and channeled her cheeks, and +ran downward from the corners of her mouth, were hieroglyphics +standing in the eyes of the initiated for the baleful legend-- + +"HOUSE AND HOUSEKEEPING." + +When she drove abroad in her luxurious chariot, behind high-stepping +bays, jingling with plated harness, or repaired in the season to +seashore or mountain, she was striving feebly to push away the tons of +splendid responsibility from her brain. + +One day she gave over the futile attempt. Something crashed down upon +and all around her, and everything except inconceivable misery of soul +was a blank. + +Expensive doctors diagnosed her case as nervous prostration. When she +vanished from the eyes of her public, and a high-salaried housekeeper, +a butler, a nursery governess and an extra Abigail took her place and +did half her work in the satin-lined shell out of which she had crept, +maimed and well-nigh murdered, it was announced that she was "under +the care of a specialist at a retreat." + +A retreat! Heaven save and pardon us for making such homes part and +parcel and a necessity of our century and our land! + +Our Rich Man's Wife never left it until she was borne forth into the +securer refuge of the narrow house that needed none of her +care-taking. Upon the low green thatch lies heavily the shadow of a +mighty monument that, to the satirist's eye, has a family likeness to +the stone pile which killed her. + +The Farmer's Wife was born and bred among the prairies, out of sight +of which she had traveled but once, and that on her wedding journey. +She came back from the brief outing to take possession of "her own +house"--prideful phrase to every young matron. + +It was an eight-roomed farmstead, with no modern conveniences. That +meant, that all the water used in the kitchen and dwelling had to be +fetched from a well twenty feet away; that there was no drain or sink +or furnace; that stationary tubs had not been heard of, and the +washing was wrung by hand. The stalwart farmer "calculated to hire" in +haying, harvesting, planting, plowing, threshing and killing times. +Whatever might have been the wife's calculations, she toiled unaided, +cooking, washing, ironing, scrubbing, sewing, churning, butter-making +and "bringing up a family," single-handed, with never a creature to +lift an ounce or do a stroke for her while she could stand upon her +feet. + +When she was laid upon her bed--an unusual occurrence, except when +there was a fresh baby--a neighbor looked in twice a day to lend a +hand, or Mrs. Gamp was engaged for a fortnight. It was not an unusual +occurrence for the nominally convalescent mother to get dinner for six +"men folks" with a three-weeks old baby upon her left arm. + +Her husband was energetic and "forehanded," and without the slightest +approach to intentional cruelty, looked to his wife to "keep up her +end of the log." He tolerated no wastefulness, and expected to be well +fed and comfortable; and comfort with this Yankee mother's son implied +tidiness. To meet his view, as well as to satisfy her own conscience, +his partner became a model manager, a woman of "faculty." + +I saw her last year in the incurable ward of a madhouse. From sunrise +until dark, except when forced to take her meals, she stood at one +window and polished one pane with her apron, a plait like a trench +between her puckered brows, her mouth pursed into an anguished knot, +her hollow eyes drearily anxious--the saddest picture I ever beheld, +most awfully sad because she was a type of a class. + +Some men--and they are not all ignorant men--are beginning to be +alarmed at the press of women into other--I had almost said any +other--avenues of labor than that of housewifery. Eagerness to break +up housekeeping and try boarding for a while, in order "to get rested +out," is not confined to the incompetent and the indolent. Nor is it +altogether the result of the national discontent with "the greatest +plague of life"--servants. + +American women, from high to low, keep house too hard because too +ambitiously. + +It is, furthermore, ambition without knowledge; hence, misdirected. We +have the most indifferent domestic service in the world, but we +employ, as a rule, too few servants, such as they are. It is +considered altogether sensible and becoming for the mechanic's wife to +do her own housework as a bride and as a matron of years. Unless her +husband prospers rapidly she is accounted "shiftless" should she hire +a washerwoman, while to "keep a girl" is extravagance, or a +significant stride toward gentility. The wife of the English joiner or +mason or small farmer, if brisk, notable and healthy, may dispense +with the stated service of a maid of all work, but she calls in a +charwoman on certain days, and is content to live as becomes the +station of a housewife who must be her own domestic staff. + +Here is the root of the difference. In a climate that keeps the pulses +in full leap and the nerves tense, we call upon pride to lash on the +quivering body and spirit to run the unrighteous race, the goal of +which is to seem richer than we are, and make "smartness" (American +smartness) cover the want of capital. Having created false standards +of respectability, we crowd insane asylums and cemeteries in trying to +live up to them. + +The tradesman who begins to acknowledge the probability that he will +become a rich citizen, and whose wife has "feelings" on the subject of +living as her neighbors do, takes the conventional step toward +asserting himself and gratifying her aspirations by moving into a +bigger house than that which has satisfied him up to now, and +furnishing it well--that is, smartly, according to the English +acceptance of the word. + +Silks and moquette harmonize as well as calico and ingrain once did. A +three-story-and-a-half-with-a-high-stoop house, without a piano in the +back parlor, and a long mirror between the front parlor windows, would +be a forlorn contradiction of the genius of American progress. As flat +a denial would be the endeavor to live without what an old lady once +described to me as, a "pair of parlors." The stereotyped brace is +senseless and ugly, but one of the necessaries of life to our +ambitious housewife. She would scout as vulgar the homely cheerfulness +of the middle-class Englishman's single "parlor" where the table is +spread and the family receives visitors. Having saddled himself with a +house too big for his family, and stocked the showrooms with +plenishings so fine that the family are afraid to use them unless when +there is company, the prudent citizen satisfies the economic side of +him by making menials of wife and daughters without thought of the +opposing circumstance that he has practically endorsed their intention +to make fine ladies of themselves. Neither he nor the chief slave of +her own gentility, the wife, who will maintain her reputation for +"faculty" or perish in the attempt, has a suspicion that the strain to +make meet the ends of frugality and pretension, is palpably and +criminally absurd. By keeping up a certain appearance of affluence and +fashion, they assume the obligation to employ servants enough to carry +out the design, yet in nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of every +thousand, they ignore the duty. + +I admit without demur that, as American domestics go, they are a +burden, an expense and a vexation. Notwithstanding all these +drawbacks, she who will not risk them should not live in such a way +that she must make use of such instruments or overwork herself +physically and mentally. + +The entire social and domestic system of American communities calls +loudly for the reform of simplicity and congruity. We begin to build +and are not able to finish. Our economics are false and mischievous, +our aims are petty and low. The web of our daily living is not round +and even-threaded. The homes which are constructed upon the +foundations of deranged, dying and dead women, are a mockery of the +holy name. Our houses should be planned and kept for those who are to +live in them, not for those who tarry within the doors for a night or +an hour. When housekeeping becomes an intolerable care there is sin +somewhere and danger everywhere. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LITTLE THINGS THAT ARE TRIFLES. + + +I feel that in writing a chapter upon ways and means I may seem to +many readers to be going over an oft-traversed road. Of articles and +treatises on the ever-vexing subject there is no end. The whole human +creation or, at all events, a vast majority of it, groaneth and +travaileth together in the agony of trying to spread a little +substance over a vast surface,--in the desperate endeavor to make a +little money go a very long way. Every few months we notice in a daily +newspaper the offer of a money-prize for the best bill of fare for a +company-dinner for six people, to be prepared upon a ludicrously-small +allowance. The number of contestants for this prize proves, not only +the general interest felt in the subject, but also testifies to the +urgent need of the reward on the part of the various would-be winners. +The probabilities are that few of these writers have the means to set +forth such a dinner as they describe. + +Books portraying the feasibility of "Comfortable living on seven +hundred a year," or "How to keep house on a restricted income," are +both helpful and pernicious. The prospective housewife buys them +eagerly and devours them with avidity. She and John are boarding now, +but are soon to have a home of their own, and after perusing their +newly purchased volumes, they decide that their limited income will +amply enable them to live in comfort although, perhaps, not in luxury. +The tiny house or flat is rented, and they settle down, as Mrs. +Whitney's Emery Anne would say, "to realize their geography," or, more +properly speaking, to live their recently acquired knowledge, which +is, in many points, very useful. + +But--and here comes the mischief wrought by over-sanguine +literature--the authors of these books leave too many things out of +the question. The expenses of moving and the purchase of necessary +furniture are, of course, omitted, but Mary finds to her chagrin that +fuel--no slight item in any family,--and light,--also absolutely +essential,--have not been taken into account. These make a big hole in +the income which had seemed all-sufficient. It is expedient, also, +occasionally, to have a woman in to do a day's cleaning, and the +weekly wash is a bugbear which makes our young people shudder. The +poor little housewife has many an anxious, tearful hour in striving to +make both ends meet, while the most amiable husband cannot help +wondering audibly "how it is they cannot live as cheaply as other +people do." + +In housekeeping, as in all else, one must learn the lesson for one's +self. All the rules and theories in all the books and periodicals in +the country are worth little compared with three months of personal +experience. Happy is the young wife who has had some practice in +housekeeping in her father's house before the heavier responsibility +of a home of her own rests on her shoulders. + +Let me remind our Mary, first of all, of the truth that there is no +meanness in economy, and that--as I cannot repeat too often or too +strongly--waste is vulgar. It is not the lady who scorns to save +scraps of butter, who throws the few cold boiled potatoes left from +dinner into the ash-barrel, and empties the teaspoonful of cream from +the bottom of the pitcher into the kitchen sink. Your servant will not +have the brains and foresight to detect in these seemingly useless +articles factors which may aid materially in the construction of a +delicacy, or "help out" to-morrow's breakfast or lunch. It is amazing +to the mistress who is her own cook how long things last and how far +they go. All the interest which a hired cook may take in her work does +not impart the peculiar care which one feels for that which is one's +own. + +In this point the woman without a domestic has the advantage over the +woman with a servant, and she with one maid-of-all-work is better off +than she who keeps two. Every extra mouth counts, and the waste caused +by each added Bridget or Gretchen is incalculable. The only redress +which the housekeeper with a servant has, is constant vigilance and +personal supervision, and even then she is the loser. At the South the +servants are used to having provisions kept under lock and key. Each +day the mistress deals out the requisite flour, butter, eggs, etc., +and the cook is perfectly satisfied. Were a Northern housekeeper to +adopt this system she would soon have the misery of engaging new +servants. The Irish and Germans among us are not accustomed to such +restrictions, and will not tolerate them. + +To utilize the little "left-overs," then, Mary must make up her mind +to do much of her own cooking. If she has a servant in the kitchen, +she may frequently so exchange work with her that the preparation of +dainty dishes will fall to her share. Norah may sweep the parlor, wipe +up the hall floor, or wash the windows while her mistress is attending +to cooking too delicate for the domestic's fingers. The servant may do +what I call the heavy kitchen-work, such as preparing vegetables for +cooking, chopping meat, peeling potatoes, etc., and she should always +be allowed to wash pots, pans and kettles, after the cooking is done. +But if the mistress will spend half an hour in the kitchen before each +meal, John will soon discover that his food has a delicacy of flavor +and is served with a daintiness imparted only by a professional French +cook,--or a lady. + +Another of the petty economies which is not belittling is the washing +of one's own dining-room dishes. The money saved by this process is +easily understood by the housewife whose cut-glass and egg-shell china +are continually smashed to fragments by the hirelings whose own the +fragiles are not. The china bill for one year of the woman with many +servants assumes proportions so huge that she is actually afraid to +let herself consider its enormity. And there are still more things +broken of which she is never told until the day comes when this or +that article is needed, and the answer to inquiry is: + +"An' sure ma'am, such a thing aint niver been in this house sence iver +I come into it." + +And as there is no way of proving the falsity of this statement, one +must submit. + +As I have said before, dish-washing, as done by a lady, takes little +time and labor, and may be a pleasant occupation. The laborer, not the +labor, makes a thing common or refined. With an abundance of scalding +hot water, a soap-shaker, mop, gloves with the tips cut off, clean and +soft dish-towels, and delicate glass and china, dish-washing is in +every sense of the word a lady's work. The mistress will do it in +one-third of the time, with five times the thoroughness, and one-tenth +as many breakages as will the average servant. And when the dishes are +washed and the table is spread for the next meal with pure linen, +glistening glass and shining silver--who dares say that the glow of +housewifely pride and satisfaction does not more than compensate for +the little time and trouble expended to produce the agreeable result? + +I have said that every additional mouth counts in the sum of family +expenses, and for this reason many housekeepers of moderate means +neglect the duty of hospitality. Pardon me if I say that I think this +is one of the economies which, if carried too far, is more honored in +the breach than in the observance. I do not advocate, indeed I +reprehend, pretentious entertaining, such as dances, parties, etc. But +it impresses me that it is, to a certain extent, a mean spirit that +counts the cost in asking a friend to stay to a repast, to spend a +night or a week. It is your duty to have things so nice every day, and +always, that you cannot be too much "put out" by an occasional guest. +When you invite your friend to make you a visit, explain that you live +quietly, and that he will find a warm welcome. Then give him just what +you give John, and make no apologies. Above all, do not let him feel +that any additional labor caused by his presence throws the whole +course of the household machinery out of gear. Do not invite to your +home those for whom you have to make so great a change in your daily +life. If you keep house as a lady should, you need not fear to +entertain anyone who is worthy to be your friend. It is no disgrace if +your circumstances are such that you cannot afford to keep a staff of +servants at your beck and call. + +These suggestions are but hints as to daily management. First and +foremost, Mary must learn to systematize her work. Method and +management do wonders toward saving time and money. Some housewives +are always in a hurry and their work is never done, while others with +twice as much to do never seem flurried, and have time for writing, +sewing and reading. The secret of the success of the latter class lies +in that one golden word--METHOD. + +I hope the young housekeepers to whom this talk is addressed will not +consider such trifles as I have mentioned, degrading. It is the work +laid before them and consequently cannot be mean. Such labor, when +sweetened by the thought of what it all means, is ennobling. I know +that Keats tells us that: + +"Love in a hut with water and a crust, +Is--Love forgive us!--cinders, ashes, dust!" + +If Love were really there, "cinders, ashes, dust" could not be, and the +water and crust may, by our Mary's skillful treatment, be transformed +into a refreshing beverage and an appetizing _entree_. My faith in the +powers of John's wife is great, and if John be satisfied, and tells her +that he has the best little love-mate and housekeeper in the world, can +she complain? + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A MISTAKE ON JOHN'S PART. + + +It is not discreditable to the sex to assert that a man is first +attracted marriage-ward by the desire of the eye. He falls in love, as a +rule, because she who presently becomes the only woman in the universe +to him is goodly to view, if not actually beautiful. Goodliness being +largely contingent upon apparel, it follows that Mary dresses for +John--up to the marriage-day. He who descries signs of slatternliness in +his beloved prior to that date, may well be shocked to disillusionment. +As a girl in a home where the mother takes upon herself the heaviest +work, and spares her pretty daughter's hands and clothes all the soil +and wear she can avert, Mary must be indolent or phenomenally +indifferent to what occupies so much of other women's thoughts, if she +do not always appear in her lover's presence neatly and--to the best of +her ability--becomingly attired. She quickly acquaints herself with his +taste in the matter of women's costumes, and adapts hers to it, wearing +his favorite colors, giving preference to the gowns he has praised, and +arranging her hair in the fashion he has chanced to admire in her +hearing. + +In the work-a-day world of matrimonial life, much of all this +undergoes a change. Washington Irving lived and died a fastidious, +unpractical bachelor, or he might have modified the sketch of "The +Wife," the Mary who, after unpacking trunks, washing china, pots and +kettles, putting closets to rights, laying carpets, hanging pictures, +clearing away straw, sawdust, and what in that day corresponded with +jute--dusting and shelving books--and performing the hundred other +duties contingent upon sitting down in the modest cottage hired by her +bankrupt husband,--got tea ready (presumably preparing potatoes for +the same) picked a big mess of strawberries from a bed opportunely +discovered in the garden, donned a white muslin robe and sat down to +the piano to while away a lagging hour while awaiting her Leslie's +return. + +The John of our common-sensible age knows in his sober mind that his +bride, in the effort to accomplish one-fourth as much, would equip +herself in a brown gingham, tie a big apron before her, draw a pair of +his discarded gloves with truncated fingers upon her hands, and be too +tired at night to do more than boil the kettle for the cup of tea which +he is more than likely to drink at the kitchen table, spread with a +newspaper--the linen not having been yet dug out of the case in which +"mother and the girls" packed it. + +As the months wear on, Mary learns, if her spouse does not, that white +muslin comes to grief so speedily in the course of even light +housework, as to swell the laundry bills inordinately. The embroidered +tea-gowns in which she used to array herself upon the rare occasions +of her betrothed's morning calls, gather dust streaks upon skirts and +the under sides of the sleeves, and, watch as she may, catch spots in +the kitchen. She considers,--being lovingly determined to help, not +hinder her mate,--that his purse must purchase new garments when her +trousseau is worn out, and she saves her best clothes for "occasions." +John, being her husband, is no longer an occasion. Dark prints and +ginghams, simply made, and freshened up at meal-times by full white +aprons, are serviceable, sensible, economical and significant of our +dear Mary's practical wisdom. They are by so many degrees less +becoming to her than the dainty apparel of loverly memory, that we do +not wonder at the surprised discontent of the young husband. + +Marriage has made no distinct change in his apparel. In his business a +man must be decent, or he loses credit. In masculine ignorance of the +immutable law that in dislodging dirt some must cling to the garments +and person of the toiler, he sets down his wife's altered appearance +to indifference to his happiness. She may have labored from an early +breakfast to a late dinner to make his home comfortable and tasteful; +into each of the dishes served up with secret pride for his +consumption, may have gone a wealth of love and earnest desire that +would have set up ten poets in sonnets and madrigals. Because her +hands are roughened and her complexion muddied by her work, and--in +the knowledge that dishes are to be washed and the table re-set for +breakfast, and the kitchen cleared up after he has been regaled--she +has slipped on a dark frock in which she was wont to receive him on +rainy evenings--he falls into a brown and cynical study, which +dishonors his wife only a little more than it disgraces himself and +human nature. "Time was"--so runs his musing--"when she thought it +worth her while to take pains to look pretty. That was when there was +still a chance of a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. She has me fast +now, and anything is good enough for a husband." + +Not one syllable of this chapter is penned for the woman who deserves +an iota of censure like the above. It is a wife's duty to study to +look well in her husband's eyes, always and in all circumstances. Her +person should be scrupulously clean, her hair becomingly arranged, her +working-gown as neat as she can keep it, and relieved before John +comes in by clean collar or ruching and a smooth white apron. It is +altogether possible for the woman who "does her own work" to be as +"well set-up"--to borrow a sporting phrase from John--as her rich +neighbor who can drag a train over Oriental rugs from the moment she +rises to a late breakfast until she sweeps yards of brocade and velvet +up the polished stairs after ball, dinner or theatre-party. + +What I have to do with now is John's unreasonable desire that his wife +should--as the help-meet of a man who has his own way to make in the +world--dress as well as when she was the unmarried daughter of an +elderly gentleman whose way was made. Every sensible girl married to a +poor man comprehends, as one trait of wifely duty, that she must make +her trousseau last and look well as long as she can. In the honorable +dread of suggesting to him whose fortune she has elected to share, that +when her handsome gowns are no longer wearable she must replace lace +with cotton lawns, and silk with all-wool merino or serge, she devises +excuses for sparing the costly fabrics--pretexts which, to his shame it +is said, he is prone to misunderstand. If men such as he could guess at +the repressed longings for the brave array of other times that assail +the wearers of well-saved--therefore _passee_--finery, at sight of other +women less conscientious, or with richer husbands than themselves, +reveling in the latest and most enticing modes--if eyes scornful of +plain attire could penetrate to the jealously locked closet where +feminine vanity and native extravagance are kept under watch and ward by +the love the critic is ready to doubt,--print, gingham and stuff gowns +would be fairer than ermine and velvet in John's esteem. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +CHINK-FILLERS. + + +At a recent conference of practical housewives and mothers held in a +western city, one of the leaders told, as illustrative of the topic +under discussion, an incident of her childhood. When a little girl of +seven years, she stood by her father, looking at a new log-cabin. + +"Papa," she observed, "it is all finished, isn't it?" + +"No, my daughter, look again!" + +The child studied the structure before her. The neatly hewed logs were +in their proper places. The roof, and the rough chimney, were +complete, but, on close scrutiny, one could see the daylight filtering +through the interstices of the logs. It had yet to be "chinked." + +When this anecdote was ended, a bright little woman arose and returned +her thanks for the story, for, she said, she had come to the +conclusion that she was one of the persons who had been put in the +world to "fill up the chinks." + +The chink-fillers are among the most useful members of society. The +fact is patent of the founder of one of our great educational systems, +that he grasped large plans and theories, but had no talent for +minutiae. What would his majestic outlines be without the army of +workers who, with a just comprehension of the importance of detail, +fill in the chinks in the vast enterprise? + +Putty may be a mean, cheap article, far inferior to the clear, +transparent crystal pane, but what would become of the costly +plate-glass were there no putty to fill in the grooves in which it +rests, and to secure it against shocks? + +The universal cry of the woman of the present to the effect that the +sex has a mighty mission to accomplish, sounds a note of woe to her +who, try as she may, can find no one occupation in which she excels +and who feels that her only sphere in life is to go through the world +doing the little things left undone by people with Missions. Does it +ever occur to the self-named commonplace woman that her +heaven-appointed task is as high a "mission" as any that may be taken +up by her more gifted sisters? + +It requires vast patience and much love for one's fellow-man to be a +chink-filler. She it is who, as wife, mother, sister, or, perhaps, +maiden-aunt, picks up the hat or gloves Mamie has carelessly left on +the drawing-room table, wipes the tiny finger smears from the +window-panes at which baby stood to wave his hand to papa this +morning, dusts the rungs of the chair neglected by the parlor-maid, +and mends the ripped coat which Johnny forgot to mention until it was +nearly time to start for school. It is she who thinks to pull the +basting-threads out of the newly finished gown, tacks ruching in neck +and sleeves against the time when daughter or sister may want it in a +hurry, remembers to prepare some dainty for that member of the +household who is "not quite up to the mark" in appetite--in fact, +undertakes those tasks, so many of which show for little when done, +but which are painfully conspicuous when neglected. Does she bewail +herself that her sphere is small--limited? Let her pause and consider +how it would affect the family were the hat and gloves to be out of +place, the chair undusted, the blurred window-glass overlooked, the +coat unmended, the bastings allowed to stand in all their hideous +white prominence, the invalid's appetite untempted. Like a good +spirit, our chink-filler glides in and out among the fallen threads in +the tangled web of life, picking up dropped stitches, fastening loose +strands, and weaving the tissue into a harmonious whole, and yet doing +it all so unobtrusively that the great weavers, looking only at the +vast pattern they are forming, are unconscious that, but for the +unselfish thought and deft fingers of the commonplace woman, their +work would be a grand failure. Sometime the children whose +shortcomings she has supplemented and thus saved from harsh reproof, +the servants whose tasks she has made lighter, the husbands and wives, +fathers and mothers, for whom she has made life smoother, and +brighter, will arise and call her blessed. It may not be in this life, +but it will surely come to pass in "the world that sets this right." + + "She doth little kindnesses + Which most leave undone or despise; + For naught that sets one heart at ease, + Or giveth happiness or peace, + Is low-esteemed in her eyes." + +Few people appreciate the dignity of detail, although, from the days +of our childhood, we have heard rhymes, verses and proverbs +innumerable which aim to impress mankind with the importance of the +horse-shoe nail, of the rift in the lute, and the tiny worm-hole in +the vessel through which the "watery tide" entered. + +The wife and mother, more than any other, knows what a great part of +life is made up of the little things, such as:-- + + "Sewing on the buttons, + Overseeing rations; + Soothing with a kind word + Guiding clumsy Bridgets, + Coaxing sullen cooks, + Entertaining company, + And reading recent books; + Woman's work!" + +Strange as it may seem, the mind of the hireling cannot grasp the +importance of the lesser tasks that go to make up the sum of +existence. If you allow Bridget to prepare your guest chamber for an +unexpected friend, you will observe that she glories in Rembrandt-like +effects,--which, when viewed at a distance, assume a respectable +appearance. You, with brains back of your hands, will notice that +there is a tiny hole in the counterpane, dust under the table, +and--above all--that the soap-dish is not clean. Your servant may do +the rough work; the dainty, lady-like touch must be given by you. + +You have an experienced waitress, and a jewel, if the dining-room and +table are perfect without your supervision. It may be only that a +teacup or plate is sticky or rough to the touch, a fork or a knife +needed, the steel or one of the carvers forgotten. But when the family +is assembled at the board, these trifles cause awkward pauses and +interruptions. + +Other little cares are to ascertain that the water with which the tea +is made is boiling, that the alcohol lamp is filled, the flies brushed +from the room, the plates warmed, and the sugar-dishes and +salt-cellars filled. One housekeeper says that attention to these +duties always reminds her of the task of washing one's face. Nobody +notices if you keep your face clean, and you get no credit for doing +it, but if you did not wash it, all the world would remark upon the +dirt. + +Often the work which "doesn't show" takes most time, and tries the +temper. And the hardest part of it all is that it is so frequently +caused by others' laziness or delinquencies. If John would only use an +ash-receiver, instead of strewing the veranda-floor with ashes and +burnt matches; if he would "just think" to close the library blinds +when he has finished looking for a missing book, instead of allowing +the hot sunshine and flies to enter at their own sweet will, until, +two hours after his departure for the office, you descend to the +apartment which you had already dusted and darkened, and find it +filled with heat and buzz! If that big boy of yours _could_ remember +to strip the covers from his bed when he arises and if your pretty +daughter could cultivate her bump of order sufficiently to refrain +from leaving a hat of some description in every room on the first +floor, and her jacket on the banisters! Nobody but yourself knows how +many precious minutes you expend in righting these wrongs caused by +others' carelessness. John would advise grandly that you "Let Bridget +attend to these matters. Why keep a dog and do your own barking?" If +he is particularly sympathetic and generous, he will inform you +seriously that your time is too precious to spend on beggarly trifles, +and that if one servant cannot do the work of the establishment, he +wants you to hire another. Perhaps you ungratefully retort that "it +will only make one more for you to follow up and supplement." + +It would be an excellent plan for each member of the household to +resolve to put in its proper place everything which he or she observed +out of order. By the time this rule had been established for +twenty-four hours, the house would be immaculate, and the mother find +ample time for her mission,--if she has any beside general +chink-filler for the family. If not, she will have an opportunity to +rest. + +A well-known author, who is at the same time an exemplary housewife, +tells of how she retired one rainy spring morning to her study in just +the mood for writing. Husband and sons had gone to their various +occupations. She had a splendid day for work ahead of her. She sat +down to her desk and took up her pen. The plot of a story was forming +itself in her brain. She dipped her pen in the ink and wrote: + +"He was--" + +A knock at the door. Enter Anne. + +"Please, mem, a mouse has eat a hole in one of your handsome +napkins,--them as I was to wash agin the company you're expectin' +to-morrow night. By rights it should be mended before it's washed." + +"Bring it to the sewing-room." + +When the neat piece of darning was ended, the housekeeper repaired to +the closet to put on a loose writing-sack. On the nail next to the +jacket hung her winter coat. On the edge of the sleeve was a tiny +hole. The housewifely spirit was filled with dread. There were +actually _moths_ in that closet! She must attend to it immediately. +The woolens ought to be put up if moths had already appeared. John's +clothes and the boys' winter coats were in great danger of being +ruined. By lunch time the necessary brushing and doing up were ended. +But in stowing away the winter garments in the attic, our heroine was +appalled at the confusion among the trunks. The garret needed +attention, and received it as soon as the noonday meal was dispatched. +At four o'clock, with the waitress' assistance, the task was +completed. About the same time a note arrived from John saying he +would be obliged to bring two of his old friends--"swell +bachelors"--who were spending the day in town, to dine with him that +night. She "must not put herself to any trouble about dinner, and he +would take them to the theatre in the evening." To the dinner already +ordered were added oyster-pates, salad, with mayonnaise dressing, +salted almonds, and, instead of the plain pudding that John liked, was +a pie of which he was still more fond, capped by black coffee, all of +which articles, except the last-named, were prepared by the hostess, +who, in faultless toilette, with remarkably brilliant color, smilingly +welcomed her husband and his guests to the half-past six dinner. When +they had gone to the theatre, and the mother had talked to her two +sons of the day's school experiences, before they settled down to +their evening of study, she returned to the dining-room, and, as Mary +had a headache and had had a busy day, she assisted in washing and +wiping the unusual number of soiled dishes, and in setting the +breakfast table. At nine o'clock she dragged her weary self upstairs. +As she passed the door of her sanctum on the way to her bed-chamber, +she paused, then entered, and lighted the gas-jet over her desk. On it +lay the page of foolscap, blank but for the words: + +"He was--" + +The day had gone and the plot with it. + +With a half-sob she sat down and wrote with tired and trembling +fingers: + +_"He was--this morning. He isn't now!"_ + +But will not my readers agree with me that she was a genuine wife, +mother, housekeeper,--in short, a "chink-filler?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MUST-HAVES AND MAY-BES. + + +"A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's Life," one of the most charming, as +well as one of the most helpful of Adeline D.T. Whitney's books, was +sent into the world over a quarter-century ago. But age cannot wither +nor custom stale, nor render old-fashioned the delightful volume with +its many quaint and original ideas. Others besides girls have learned +the practical truth of one sentence which, for the good it has done, +deserves to be written in letters of gold: + +"_Something must be crowded out._" + +More than one perplexed and conscientious worker has, like myself, +written it out in large text and tacked it up in sewing-room, kitchen, +or over a desk. + +In the beginning, I want to guard what may seem to be a weak point by +stating, first and above all, that this is not an excuse for slighting +or "slurring over" our legitimate work. + +One easygoing housekeeper used to say that, in her opinion, there was +a genius in slighting. Her home attested the fact that she had reduced +the habit of leaving things undone to a science, but it is doubtful if +the so-called genius differed largely from that which forms a +prominent characteristic of the porcine mother, and enables her to +enjoy her home and little ones with apparent indifference to the fact +that outsiders denominate one a sty, and her offspring small pigs. + +Not very long ago I was frequently brought into contact with a woman +who has, as all her friends acknowledge, a faculty for "turning off +work." She has a jaunty knack of pinning trimming on a hat, which, +although bare and stiff in the start, evolves into a toque or capote +that a French milliner need not blush to confess as her handiwork. +She can run up the seams in a dress-skirt with speed that fills the +slower sisters working at her side with sad envy. She puts up +preserves with marvelous dexterity, and can toss together eggs, +butter, sugar and flour, and turn out a cake in less time than an +ordinary woman would consume in creaming the butter and sugar. But it +is an obvious fact that the work of this remarkable woman lacks +"staying power." Her too rapid and long stitches often give way, +allowing between them mortifying glimpses of white under-waist or +skirt to obtrude themselves; in a high wind the trimmings or feathers +are likely to blow loose from the dainty bonnets; her preserves +ferment, and have to be "boiled down," while the cutting of her cake +reveals the truth that under the top-crust are heavy streaks, like a +stratum of igneous formation shot athwart the aqueous. The maker of +gown, hat, preserves, and cake lacks thoroughness. As one irreverent +young man once said after dancing with her--"she is all the time +tumbling to pieces." + +Since something must be crowded out, the first and great point is to +determine what this something must be. Certain duties are of prime +importance, others only secondary. One writer says of a woman who had +cultivated the sense of proportion with regard to her work: "We felt +all the while the cheer and gladness and brightness of her presence, +just because she had learned to make this great distinction,--to put +some things first and others second. She had mastered the great secret +of life." + +This talk of mine reminds me of a prosy preacher who chose one Sunday +as the text of his sermon, "It is good to be here," and began his +discourse with the announcement, "I shall employ all the time this +morning in telling of the places in which it is _not_ good to be. If +you come to hear me to-night I will tell you where it is good to be." + +So we will consider the things which must not be put aside. Some +duties are plain, self-evident, and heaven-appointed. Such is the care +of children. To the young mother this is, or should be, the first and +great object in life. Her baby must have enough clothes, and these +clothes must be kept clean, fresh and dainty, for his pure, sweet +babyship. His many little wants must be attended to, even if calls are +not returned and correspondence is neglected. But it is not absolutely +necessary to load down the tiny frocks with laces and embroidery that +are time consumers from the moment they are stitched on till the +article they serve to adorn is ready for the rag-bag. The starching, +the fluting, the ironing, all take precious hours that might be +employed upon some of the must-haves. + +Home duties take the precedence of social engagements. A busy mother +cannot serve John, babies and society with all her heart, soul and +strength. Either she will neglect the one and cleave unto the other, +or neither will receive proper attention. Even a wealthy woman who can +make work easy (?) by having a nurse for each child in the household, +cannot afford to leave the tender oversight of the clothes, food, and +general health of one of her babies to those hired to do the +"nursing." There is no genuine nurse but the mother; and although +others may do well under her eye and directed by her, she can never +shift the mother-responsibility to other shoulders; and if she be +worthy of the dignity of motherhood, she will never wish to have it +otherwise. + +A few days ago I heard a clever woman say that a friend of hers had +chosen as her epitaph--not, "She hath done what she could," but "She +tried to do what she couldn't," and that her motto in life seemed to +be, "What's worth doing at all is worth doing _swell_." This speech +applies to too many American women, and so general is the habit of +overcrowding, that she who would really determine what is worth doing +at all must hold herself calmly and quietly in hand, and stand still +with closed eyes for one minute, until her senses, dazed by the wild +rush about her, have become sufficiently clear, and her hand steady +enough, to pick out the diamonds of duty from the glass chips which +pass with the superficial observer for first-water gems. It is well +for our housewife to have some test-stone duty by which she may rate +the importance of other tasks. Such a test-stone may be John's or +baby's needs or requirements. Of course she must not expect to make as +much show to the outside world by keeping the children well and happy, +entertaining her husband each evening until he forgets the trials and +vexations of his business-day, preparing toothsome and wholesome +dainties for the loved ones, and making home sweet and attractive, as +does the society woman who attends twenty teas a week, gives large +lunches and dinners, and "takes in" every play and opera. + +"The little bird sits at his door in the sun, + Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, +And lets his illumined being o'errun + With the deluge of summer it receives. +His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, + And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; +He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest; + In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?" + +If my reader is a mother it will not take very long for her to justly +determine the values. + +Recently I heard a busy woman and an excellent housewife say: "If I am +pressed with important work, and my parlors are not very dusty, I +unblushingly wipe off the polished furniture, on which every speck +shows, and leave the upholstered articles until another time." + +This was not untidiness. It was only putting time and work to the best +advantage, that there might be enough to go around. + +I read the other day in the woman's department of a prominent paper a +letter from a subscriber who said that she was so driven with work +that it was all she could do to get her washing done, much less her +ironing. So she had determined to use her bed-linen and underclothing +rough-dry. Would it not have been wiser as well as neater, for her to +have plain, untrimmed underwear, and iron it without starching? For +here comfort is also to be considered. Is not smooth, neat linen to +take the precedence of trimming and starch? + +Another thing which must not be crowded out is rest, and the care of +the health,--and the one includes the other. A day in which no +breathing-space has been found is a wicked day. Not only is it our +duty to the bodies which God has given to care properly for them, but +it is, moreover, a positive duty to our fellow-man. An overworked +person is likely to be cross and disagreeable, for the mind is +affected by the state of the body, and it is an absolute sin to put +ourselves into a condition that makes others miserable. It is also +wretched economy to burn the candle at both ends every day. When it is +needed to aid us in some large piece of work the wick will be +consumed, and the light will faintly flicker, or splutter feebly and +die. + +Among the things which may be easily and advantageously crowded out, +we may rank unnecessary talking. The housekeeper would be surprised +were she to take note of the time spent by her servants, and, perhaps, +even by herself, in saying a few words here, and telling a story there +in the time which rightfully belongs to other tasks. Could she look, +herself unseen, into her kitchen, she would find Bridget and Norah, +arms akimbo, comparing notes as to past "places" or present beaux. +Gossip is their meat and drink, and it does not occur to them, or they +do not care, that they are paid the same wages for time thus spent as +for the hours at the tubs and ironing-board. "When you work, work; and +when you play, play," is an excellent motto for both mistress and +maid. + +To many workers there is a lack of courage and a sinking of heart at +the thought of a large piece of work ahead of them, and such persons +lose a vast amount of time in looking at a duty before they attack it. +This habit of dallying over a task is something which may certainly be +crowded out. + +The two great points in the successful management of time are +concentration and system. At the beginning of each day set duties in +array before your mind's eye, and attack them, one at a time. This may +at first sight sound like ridiculously unnecessary advice. But unless +my readers are exceptional women, they all know what it is to be so +pressed with things that must be done that they do not know what to +begin first. Having chosen the most important task, attack that, and +when you have once laid hold of the plough, drive straight ahead, not +allowing the sight of another furrow, which is not just straight, to +induce you to stop midway to straighten it before you have finished +the one upon which your energies should now be bent. Too many women +are mere potterers, not earnest laborers. They begin to make a bed, +and stop to brush up some dust that has collected under the bureau. +Before the dust-pan is emptied, the thought occurs of a tear in one of +the children's aprons, and by the time that is mended, something else +appears that needs attention, and all day long tasks are half +completed and nothing is entirely finished, until at night the poor +toiler is weary and discouraged, with nothing to show for her pains, +except an anxious face and a semi-straight household. + +Woman's work is quite as dignified as man's, and why should it not be +arranged as carefully and systematically? If some thing must be +crowded out, let it be, with forethought and reason, set to one +side,--not shoved or huddled amid mess and confusion. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +WHAT GOOD WILL IT DO? + + +Thus I translate the Latin _cui bono_. In whatever language the query +is put, it is the most valuable balance-wheel ever attached to human +action and speech. + +The principle is old. The pithy phrase in the shrewd Roman's mouth was +two-edged, and had a sharp point. The enterprise that led to no good +was not worth beginning. + +A friend of mine who has written long, much, and, so far as I can +judge, always profitably, told me that in 1865 she wrought out what +was, to her apprehension, the most powerful book she ever composed,--a +story of the Civil War. She was a Unionist in every thought and +sentiment, and this she proclaimed; she had had unusual opportunities +of seeing behind the scenes of political intrigue, and she had +improved them. When the last chapter was written she carried the MS. +into her husband's study at dusk one evening, and began to read it +aloud to him. She finished it at two o'clock a.m. Her auditor would +not let her pause until then. Hoarse, but with a heart beating high +with excitement, she waited for the verdict. The husband walked up and +down the floor for some minutes, head bent and hands clasped behind +him, deep in thought. Finally he stopped in front of her. + +"That is a marvelous book, my dear,--strong, true, dramatic. It will +sell well. It will make a noise in the world. But--_cui bono?_" + +Chagrined, mortified, angry, the author took the words with her to her +room, and her brain tossed upon them as upon thorns all night. At dawn +she arose and put the MS. into the fire. + +"I shudder to this day in thinking what would have been had I acted +differently," she says. "What I had written in a semi-frenzy of +patriotism would have been hot pincers, tearing open wounds which +humanity and religion would have taught me to heal." + +Into many lives comes some such crisis, when the text I would bind +upon my reader's mind would act as a breakwater, and save more than +one soul from sorrow, perhaps from destruction. In the everyday life +of everybody, crises of less moment accentuate experience, and tend to +make the nature richer or poorer. + +I incline to the belief that nine-tenths of the remorseful heartaches +which most of us know only too well, might be spared us did we pause +to repeat to ourselves the Latin or English sentence. It may be a +relic of barbarism, but it is an undeniable trait of human nature that +all of us feel the longing to "answer back," or, as the children put +it, to "get even with" the man or woman whose speech offends us. The +apostle showed marvelous knowledge of the weakness of sinful mortals +when he affirmed that the tongue was an unruly member, for it is +easier to perform a herculean feat, to strain physical strength and +muscle to the utmost, than to bite back the sharp retort, or repress +the acrid reply. And there is such a hopelessness in the sentence once +uttered! It is gone from us forever. We may regret it and show our +repentance in speech and action, but we cannot blot the memory of the +cruel words from our minds, or from the mind of the person,--perhaps a +mere acquaintance, oftener bone of our bone and flesh of our +flesh,--in whose heart the barbed arrows of our eloquence rankle for +months and years. The dear friend may forgive freely and fully the +bitter censure or unjust reproof, but a scar is left which, if touched +in a moment of inadvertence, will pulse and throb with the remembrance +of pain. + + "Leave the bitter word unspoken; + So shalt thou be strongly glad, + If there lies no backward shadow + On dead faces, wan and sad." + +"To repress a harsh answer, to confess a fault, to stop, right or +wrong, in the midst of self-defence, in gentle submission, sometimes +requires a struggle like life and death, but these three efforts are +the golden threads with which domestic happiness is woven." + +How frequently we exclaim,--"If I ever get the opportunity, I will +give that woman a piece of my mind!" or, "I shall some time have the +satisfaction of telling that man what I think of his behavior." + +It is a very melancholy and most _un_satisfactory satisfaction to know +that you have made a person uncomfortable. It is folly for you to +suppose for a moment that an angry speech of yours will turn a man +from a course of which you do not approve. It will make him hate you, +perhaps, but it will not change him. It is not only foolish, but +un-Christian to triumph in another's discomfiture. Then why "give the +piece of your mind," which you can never take back? What good will it +do? + +The same question may be asked with regard to the uncharitable remarks +which nearly all of us make daily. Once in a great while, we meet a +human being, still permitted to dwell on this sinful earth, who rarely +says anything unkind of anybody, whose rule is, "If you cannot say a +kind thing say nothing." In the course of a long and varied experience +I may have known half-a-dozen such. But what man has done, man may do +again. What is the baneful spirit which tempts the gentlest of us to +take more pleasure in calling attention to a fault than to a virtue? +If a woman is a tender mother, a model wife, and an excellent +housekeeper, why, when her virtues are discussed, is it necessary for +some one to "think it is such a pity that she does not read more?" or +what good comes from the remark that she is "sprightly, but not very +deep?" + +There is no habit more easily contracted than that of wholesale +criticism, and it is a habit that grows with fungus-like rapidity. +Washington Irving says "that a sharp tongue is the only edged tool +that grows keener with constant use," and with many people the unruly +member has acquired a razor-like edge which contains in itself the +faculty of keeping sharp, and never needs "honing" or "setting." + +I have in mind one man to whom I hesitate to name a friend, unless it +chances to be one over whom he has cast the mantle of his approval. +Those who are fortunate enough to live up to his standard are very +few, and all others he criticises unmercifully, employing in his +condemnation a ready wit and fluent speech that might be used in a +nobler purpose. Such a reputation as he holds for all uncharitableness +is not an enviable one, and one wonders what would be his answer to +our _cui bono_. When there are so many truthful and pleasant things +that may be said of everybody, why call attention to disagreeable +points, which after all, are fewer than the agreeable ones? + +The office of the gossip is so thankless that it is a marvel any one +accepts it. To certain natures there is positive delight in being the +first to relate a choice bit of scandal. It never occurs to them that +the old maxim with regard to a dog who fetches a bone can possibly be +applied to them. But it is as true as the stars that if a person +brings you an unsavory tale of a friend, she will carry away as ugly +a story of you, if she can find the faintest suggestion upon which to +found it. The gossip acquires a detective-like faculty for following +out a clue, but unfortunately, the clue is oftener purely imaginary +than real. A little discrepancy like this does not disturb the +professional scandal-monger. So tenacious is the habit of making much +of nothing, that, deprived of this, her sustenance, she would find +life colorless and void. So, if material does not present itself, she +manufactures it. One must live. + +There is also a habit, which, while comparatively innocent, is likely +to bring trouble upon the perpetrator. It is that of making many +confidantes. Here comes a very serious _cui bono_. Undoubtedly there +is a momentary satisfaction in telling one's woes and sorrows to an +interested listener. When the auditor is a friend, and a trusted +friend, whose sympathy is genuine and whose discretion is vast, there +is a comfort beyond description in unburdening one's soul. But there +is a line to be drawn even here. It is not deceit to keep your private +affairs to yourself when you are sure that you are guilty of nothing +dishonorable or hypocritical in so doing. You are often your own best +and safest counselor. I know one woman who long ago said a thing which +should be a motto to those susceptible persons who in a sudden +expansion of the heart tell all they know and which they would most +wish to keep to themselves. + +"My dear," she said, "in the course of a somewhat checkered life I +have discovered that while I have often been sorry for things which I +have told, I have never had cause to regret what I have kept to +myself." + +If you have a secret and wish to keep it, guard it jealously. It +ceases to be yours alone when you impart it to another. Your +confidante may be discretion personified, and, yet again, she may have +some nearer and dearer one to whom she "tells everything," even the +secrets of her friends. Or, you may in time learn to be ashamed of the +confidence which you have reposed in this person, and the knowledge +that she knows and remembers the thing, and, it may be, knows that you +feel a mortification at the thought of it, will gall you unspeakably. + +Perhaps the hardest struggle that comes to the average human being is +to let others be mistaken. Yet what good will it do to point out to +them their mistakes? If your husband or son tells several people that +he met John Smith last week in New York, and you know that he was in +that city three weeks ago, why correct him? He is talking hastily and +does not stop to measure his words or time. The mistake is +unimportant. Why antagonize a man by exclaiming: + +"My dear John! This is the third week in January, and you went to New +York immediately after Christmas." + +When you hear your friend tell your favorite story, and change some +minor detail, she will love you not a whit the more if you correct her +with-- + +"No, Mary! the way it happened was this"--and then proceed with the +tale in the manner which you consider best. + +There are so many things which we all do for which there is no honest +reason, that I will mention only one more. That is the exceedingly +uncomfortable trick of reminding a man of something he has once said, +when he has since had occasion to change his mind. Perhaps some years +ago when you first met your now dear friend, you thought her manner +affected, and did not hesitate to mention the fact to your family. +Since then you have become so well acquainted with her delightful +points that you forget your early impression of her. How do you feel +when you are enthusiastically enumerating her many lovable attributes, +if the member of the household with the fiendish memory strikes in +with-- + +"Oh, then you have changed your mind about her? You remember you once +said that you considered her the most affected mortal whom you had +ever met." + +Under such provocation does not murder assume the guise of justifiable +homicide? + +There is no more bitter diet than to be forced to eat one's own words. +Never tell one of an opinion which he once held, if he has since had +reason to alter his views. There is no sin or weakness in changing +one's mind. It is a thing which all of us--if we except a few victims +to pig-headed prejudice--do daily. And, as a rule, we hate to be +reminded of the fact. Then why call the attention of others to the +circumstances that they are guilty of the same weakness, if such it +be? Again I ask, _cui bono?_ + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +SHALL, I PASS IT ON? + + +"Me refrunce, mum!" + +I look up, bewildered, from an essay to which I have just set the +caption--"Who is my Neighbor?" + +"Me carackter, mum! Me stiffticket! You'll not be sending me away +without one, peticklerly as 'twas meself as give warnin'?" + +She is ready for departure. Dressed in decent black for the brother +"who was drownded las' summer," she stands at the back of my desk, +one hand on her hip, and makes her demand. It is not a petition, but a +dispassionate statement of a case that has no other side. + +She has been in my kitchen for six months as my nominal servitor. She +has drawn her wages punctually for that time. She "wants a change;" +her month is up; she is going out of my house, out of my employ, out +of my life. These things being true, Katy wants to take with her all +that pertains to her. One of these belongings is her "refrunce." From +her standpoint, I owe it to her as truly as I owed the sixteen dollars +I have just paid her. + +I engaged Katy last May from a highly responsible intelligence office. +For and in consideration of a fee of three dollars, a lady-like agent, +with a smooth voice and demeanor, passed over "the girl" to me as she +might a brown paper parcel of moist sugar. She supplied, gratis, a +personal voucher for the woman I had engaged, having known her well +for five years. Katy had, moreover, a model "recommend," which she +unwrapped from a bit of newspaper that had kept it clean. The +chirography was the fashionable "long English;" the diction was good, +and the orthography faultless. Envelope and paper had evidently come +from a lady's davenport. + +"This is to certify that Katherine Brady has lived in my family for +eleven months as cook. I have found her industrious, sober, neat, +honest and obliging. She also understands her business thoroughly. She +leaves me in consequence of my removal from the city. +(Mrs.) ... No ... West 57th St., New York City." + +If the certificate had a fault, it was that the fit was too nearly +perfect. I had heard of references written to order by venal scribes, +and I consulted the city directory. Mr. ...'s office was in Wall +street, his residence No ... West 57th street. I called to see him, +found him in, and found him a gentleman. He had no doubt that all was +right. He believed the name of their latest cook was Katherine. They +called her "Katy." He knew that his wife was sorry to part with her, +and inferred that she was a worthy woman. + +We, too, were leaving town, but only for the summer. Katy "liked the +country in hot weather. All the best fam'lies now-a-days had their +country-places." + +It is not an easy matter to "change help" during a summer sojourn in a +cottage distant an hour and a half from town. The act involves one or +more railway journeys, much running about in hot streets, and much +hopeless ringing at dumb and dusty doors. This is the explanation of +Katy's six months' stay in my kitchen. In town, she would have been +dismissed at the end of the first week. She was a wretched cook, and a +worse laundress. Within an hour after she entered my door, the decent +black gown was exchanged for a dingy calico which she wore, without a +collar, and minus a majority of the buttons, all day long and every +day. She was "a settled girl"--owning to twenty-eight summers, and +having weathered forty winters. Her hair, streaked with gray, tumbled +down as persistently as Patience Riderhood's, and was uncomfortably +easy of identification in _ragout_ and muffins. Her slippers were down +at heel; her kitchen was never in order; her tins were black; her pots +were greasy; her range was dull; her floors unclean. Like all her +compeers, she "found the place harder nor she had been give to +onderstand, but was willin' to do her best, seein' she had come." + +Her best was sometimes sour bread, sometimes burned biscuits, +generally weak, muddy coffee, always under-seasoned vegetables and +over-seasoned soup. By July 1, she developed a genius for quarreling +with the other servants that got up a domestic hurricane, and I told +her she must leave. She promptly burst into tears, and reminded me +that I "had engaged her for the sayson, an' what would a pore girl be +doin' in the empty city in the middle of the summer? + +"An' whativer they may say o' me ways down-stairs, it's the timper of +a babby I have, an' would niver throw a harrd wurrd at a dog, let +alone a human. Whin they think me cross, it's only that I'm a bit +quoiet, an' who can wonder? thinkin' o' me pore brother as was +drownded las' summer, an' him niver out o' me moind!" + +I weakly allowed her to stay upon promise of good and peaceable +behavior, and tried to make the best of her, as she had of the place. + +One September day, just when the physician, called in to see a dear +young guest, had expressed his fear that she was sickening for a +serious illness, Katy gave warning. "Her feelin's would not allow her +to stay in a house where there was sickness. It always reminded her of +her pore, dear brother what was drownded las' summer, an' a sick +pairson made a quare lot o' extra work, even when it was considered in +the wages. She'd be lavin' that day week, her month bein' up then." + +Happily, the threatening of illness was a false alarm, but Katy is +going. The city is filling up, and many "best families" must re-open +their town-houses in time for the school terms. She looks as happy at +the prospect of a return to area-gossip and Sunday flirtation as I +feel at getting rid of her. I have made with her a farewell round of +pantries, refrigerator, and cellar. Valuable articles are +missing--notably two solid silver tablespoons and a dozen fine +napkins. At the back of the barn a pile of brushwood masks a Monte +Testaccio of china and cut-glass. Dirt is in every corner; +glass-towels have been degraded into dish and floor-cloths; saucepans +are burned into holes; tops are lacking to pots and pails. + +For all this there is no redress. When I made a stand upon the "case +of spoons," as being old family silver, the housemaid declared that +Katy had used them often to stir soup and porridge, and Katy retorted +with gusts of brine and brogue that she "wouldn't be accountable for +things that didn't belong to her business." + +Altogether, my amiable willingness that she should take her leave +without shaking more dust from her feet upon an already burdened +household, had become impatient desire by the time I counted out her +wages. Yet, here she stands, grim as the sphinx, fixed as Fate, with +the inexorable requisition, "Me refrunce, mum!" + +"What could I say of you Katy?" I ask, miserably. + +"What any leddy whatsomever, as _is_ a leddy, would say! What lots o' +other leddies, as leddylike as enny leddy could wish to be, ridin' in +their coaches an' livin' in houses tin times 's big as this, leddies as +had none but leddylike ways, has said!" is the tautological response. +"I've served yez, fair an' faithful, for six mont's, and it stan's to +rayson as I wouldn't 'a' been let to stay that long onder yer ruff if +so be I hadn't shuited yez." + +She has me there, and she knows it. Inwardly, I retract some of the +hard things I have thought and said of Mrs. ... of No ... West +Fifty-seventh street. Having let the creature abide under her roof for +eleven months, she must justify herself for the act. She meant to +leave town, as I mean to go back to town, and, like me, truckled +weakly to expediency. Nevertheless, her weakness did me a real wrong. + +_Shall I pass it on?_ + +This is the moral question I would sift from what my readers may +regard as trivial and commonplace details. The fact that my experience +is so common as to seem trite, is the most startling feature in the +case. Our American domestic service is a loosely woven web, full of +snarls and knots. It is time that the great national principle that +government must depend upon the consent of the governed, should be +studied and applied to the matter in hand. We, the wage-payers, are +the governed, and without our consent. The recent attempt to enforce +this retroverted law upon a grand scale, in calling a mighty railway +corporation to account for the discharge of a dozen or so out of +several thousand employes, is no stronger proof of this curious +reversal of positions than the demand of my whilom cook that I should +set my hand to a lie. + +I caught her once in a falsehood so flagrant that I commended the rule +of truth-speaking to her moral sense, and asked how she reconciled the +sin with her knowledge of what was right. + +Her answer was ready: "Oh, there's no sin in a lie that doesn't hurt +yer neighbor!" + +Judged even by this easygoing principle, I should sin in penning the +reference without which Katy intimates that she will not withdraw her +foot from my house. She looms before me,--vulgar, determined, +irrational and ignorant,--the impersonation of the System under which +we cringe and groan. + +"What would you do?" I ask a friend, who is a successful housewife. + +She shrugs her shoulders. + +"Oh, swim with the tide! Not to give the certificate will be +equivalent to boycotting yourself. The news of your contumacy will +spread like prairie fires. You will be baited and banned beyond +endurance." + +"But--my duty to my neighbor?" + +"Thanks to the prevailing rule in these affairs, your neighbor knows +how little a written reference is worth. She will satisfy the +proprieties by reading it, and form her own opinion of the girl. When +Katy has worn out her saucepans and patience, your successor in +misfortune will give her clean papers to the next place. It is a sort +of endless chain of suffering. Then, there is the humane side of the +question. A recommendation of some sort is a form most housewives +insist upon. You may be taking the bread out of a 'girl's' mouth by +denying her a scrap of paper." + +Nevertheless, I shall not give Katy a reference. I have said to her in +plain but temperate terms: + +"You are a poor cook. You are wasteful, dirty, ill-tempered and +impertinent. You have been a grievous trial and a money loss to me. I +am willing to write this down, together with the statement that you +are sober, strong and quick to learn, and that you would probably work +well under a stricter mistress than I have time to be." + +She has informed me in _in_temperate terms, that "it is aisy to see +you are no leddy, an' fer the matter o' that, no Christian, ayther, or +you'd not put sech an insult on to an honest, harrd-wurkin' girrl as +has her livin' to git." + +She pronounces furthermore, that she "was niver so put upon an' put +about in all her life afore as since into this house she come;" that +she "will have the law o' me for refusing her her rights." Finally, +and most intemperately, that "the Lord will dale with me for grindin' +the face of a pore, defenceless young cre'tur' as has had such a pile +o' throuble already. If her pore, dear brother what was drownded las' +summer was alive, I wouldn't dare trate her so cruel." + +I stand fast, between breaths, to my resolution. I relate the true +history of the transaction to enforce my appeal to my fellow +housekeepers, all over the land, to join hands in a measure which +would, I am persuaded, go far toward rectifying a crooked system. + +Let each housekeeper, in dismissing a servant, write out without +prejudice for or against the late employee, her claims to the confidence +of the next employer, and her faults,--in short, a veritable +"character." Let her pledge herself to her sister-housekeepers and to +her conscience, not to receive into her family one who cannot produce +satisfactory testimonials of her fitness for the place she seeks. + +In England, a mistress who engages a maid without such credentials is +regarded as recreant to her order. In England, too, the former +mistress is held partly responsible for the mischief done, if she turn +loose upon other households a woman like Katherine Brady. + +The proposed remedy for a crying and a growing evil is so simple that +some may doubt its practical efficacy. Yet the most casual thinker +must see the strength as well as the simplicity of a plan which would +make skill and fidelity in service the only road to success. +Self-interest, if nothing else, would stimulate our Katies and +Bridgets, our Dinahs and our Gretchens, to keep a place, if it were +not so wickedly easy to "make a change." Our kitchens are overrun and +ravaged by Arabs that become, every year, more despotic. + +"Who would be free, herself must strike the blow." General liberty +from this bondage can only be achieved by determined and united +effort. The establishment in every community of a simple organization +under the name of The Housekeepers' Protective Union, that should have +but one article in its constitution, and that one be the pledge I have +indicated, would cover the whole ground, and effect within a year, +permanent reform. Shall not this appeal be the Alexander to cut the +Gordian knot which has, thus far, defied the dexterity and strength of +all who have wrestled with the problem? + +Who will send me news of the formation of the first Chapter of the +H.P.U.? + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"ONLY HER NERVES." + + +There is a slang expression current among the irreverent youth of the +present day, when referring to a man wise in his own conceit, to the +effect that "what that fellow does not know is torn out." So I, +quoting my juniors, begin my talk with the sentence--for the raciness +of which I apologize--"What American women do not know about +nervousness is torn out!" + +Only this week in a city horse-car I watched the faces of my +fellow-passengers,--women, most of them--with a pain at my heart. Oh, +the tired, strained, impatient faces, and the eager, alert, and +anxious expression that belong to the people of this new and free +country! Some of these wretched mortals had babies with them,--babies +whose fretful wails seemed but to voice the mother's expression of +countenance. In an uneasy way the little mites would be shifted from +one shoulder to another, or trotted in nervousness that reminded me +irresistibly of the nursery rhyme which might be the motto of the +American mother: + + ", out of breath, + They trot the baby, most to death, + Sick or well, or cold or hot, + It's trottery, trottery, trottery, trot." + +Of all these women there was not one who sat still for three +consecutive minutes. Heads were twisted to look at the name of the +corner lamp-posts, glove fingers were smoothed, the folds of +dress-skirts shaken out, hats straightened,--until I would fain have +cried out in irreverent paraphrase, at sight of the unrest which I +blush to confess made me conscious of my own nerves: + +"Not one sitteth still--no, not one!" + +That men have any patience with what they term "feminine fidgetiness," +is but an evidence that they are better Christians than we of the +gentler sex are willing to admit. For I think I am not making a +sweeping assertion when I state that not one tolerably healthy man in +five hundred knows what it is to have nerves such as are the +birthright of his mother, sister, and wife. And yet how well the +physician, poet, autocrat and professor, Oliver Wendell Holmes, knows +and sympathizes with this weakness in us! He touches the truth in a +direct way that wrings a sigh of familiar pain from many a patient +soul. + +"Some people have a scale of your whole nervous system and can play +all the gamut of your sensibilities in semi-tones, touching the naked +nerve-pulps as a pianist strikes the keys of his instrument. I am +satisfied that there are as great masters of this nerve-playing as +Vieuxtemps or Thalberg in their lines of performance. Married life is +the school in which the most accomplished artists in this department +are found. A delicate woman is the best instrument; she has such a +magnificent compass of sensibilities. From the deep inward moan which +follows pressure on the great nerves of right, to the sharp cry as the +filaments of taste are struck with a crashing sweep, is a range which +no other instrument possesses." + +And again he speaks of the less serious affection of the nerves +as: ... "Not fear, but what I call nervousness,--unreasoning, but +irresistible; as when, for instance, one, looking at the sun going +down, says: 'I will count fifty before it disappears,' and as he goes +on and it becomes doubtful whether he will reach the number, he gets +strangely flurried, and his imagination pictures life and death and +heaven and hell as the issues depending on the completion or +non-completion of the fifty he is counting." + +If a man can describe it all so well, what could a woman do? I fear +that her description would be too graphic to be read by us, her +sisters. + +Many people have a way of saying of a sufferer: + +"There is nothing the matter with her. She is only excessively +nervous." + +This "only" is a very serious matter. There is no illness more +difficult to treat and more trying to bear than nervous prostration. +It is a slowly advancing malady which is scarcely recognized as +serious by one's friends until the tired mind succumbs and mental +aberration is the terrible finale of the seemingly slight +indisposition. + +My readers may wonder why I dwell upon a subject that baffles even the +most eminent physicians in the country. It is because I feel that each +of us women has in herself the only check to the nervousness which we +all dread. We, as Americans, cannot afford to trifle with our +unfortunate inheritance, but must use every means at our command to +subjugate the evil instead of being subjugated by it. Too many women, +especially among the lower classes, think it "pretty" to be nervous. +The country practitioner will tell you of the precious hours he loses +every week in hearkening to the recital of personal discomforts as +poured into his professional ears by farmers' wives. And the +beginning, middle, and end of all their plaints is "my nerves." +Anything, from a sprained ankle to consumption, is attributed to or +augmented by these necessary adjuncts to the human anatomy. + +Not long ago I was talking to the ignorant mother of a jaundiced, +colicky child of two years of age. + +"What does she eat?" I asked. + +"Well, she takes fancies, and her latest notion is that she won't eat +nothin' but ginger-nuts and bananas. So she mostly lives on them. +Sometimes she suffers awful." + +"From indigestion?" + +"Oh, no!" patronizingly. "She inherits all my nervous weakness. Her +nerves get the upper hand of her, and she turns pale and shivers all +over, and then she looks as if she would go into the spasms." + +"But," I suggested, "don't you think that is caused by acute +indigestion?" + +"No, ma'am. You see I know what it is, havin' had it so bad myself. +The nerves of her stomach all draw up, and cause the shakin' and +tremblin'." + +Suggestions as to the modification of the little one's diet were +useless. Indigestion was unromantic (in the mother's judgment), and +"nerves" were highly aristocratic and refined. + +I am happy to note that the girl of the rising generation is learning +that to succumb to weakness is not a sign of ladyhood. She does not +jump on a chair at sight of a mouse, scream when she meets a cow in a +country road, or cover her face and shudder at mention of a snake. She +is proud of being afraid of nothing, of having a good appetite, and of +the ability to sleep as soundly as a tired and healthy child. + +It is not then to her, but to ourselves, that we mothers have need to +look. We are too often the ones who give way to hysterical tears or to +sharp words, or perhaps to unjust criticism, all of which we attribute +to nervousness. Our more frank girl, if affected in the same way, +would bluntly acknowledge that she was "as cross as a bear." Let us +quietly take hold of ourselves and ask ourselves the plain question, +"Are we nervous, or cross?" If the latter, we know how to remedy it. A +well person has no right to be so abominably bad-tempered or moody +that he cannot keep people from finding it out. If you are nervous, +there is some reason for it. Perhaps you did not sleep well last +night; perhaps you are suffering from dyspepsia; but in any case +will-power will do much towards lessening the trouble. If you are ill, +it may cause a struggle greater than your nearest and dearest can +imagine to repress the startled ejaculation at the slamming of a door, +or the angry exclamation when your bed is jarred. But you will be +better, not worse, physically, for this self-control. The woman, who, +though tortured by nervousness sets her teeth and says, "I _will_ be +strong!" stands a better chance of speedy recovery than does she who +weakly gives way to hysterical sobs a dozen times a day. Your nerves +should be your servants, and, like all servants, may give you much +trouble, but as long as you are mistress of yourself you need not fear +them. Once let them get the control over you, and you are gone. There +is no tyrant more merciless than he who has hitherto been a slave. + +May I add one word to those whom we, in exasperation, are apt to call +aggressively strong? If you, yourself, do not know what nervousness +is, pity and help the poor sufferer in your family who never knows +during day or night what it is to be without what you consider "the +fussiness that sets you wild." If this mother, or aunt, or sister, +does control herself, remember that she is stronger than you, as the +man who successfully curbs the fiery steed is more to be commended for +courage than he who holds the reins loosely over the back of the safe +farm-horse who does not know how to shy, kick, or run. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE RULE OF TWO. + + +One character mentioned in the unique rhyme of Mary and her Little +Lamb, has never had due praise and consideration dealt out to him. The +teacher who heartlessly expelled from the temple of learning the +unoffending and guileless companion of the innocent maiden who is the +heroine of the above-mentioned ditty, was, in spite of his cruelty, a +philosopher. After the exit of the principal actors in the poem, we +are told that the following conversation ensued: + + "What makes the lamb love Mary so?" + The eager children cry. + "Because she loves the lamb, you know," + The teacher did reply. + +The teacher was wise in his generation. In his "reply," lies a world +of meaning--one of the answers to the old question of the reason for +personal antipathies and attractions, and may perhaps be said, in this +case, to touch upon animal magnetism. + +There are exceptions to every rule, and to the maxim that "love begets +love" there are many instances to be cited in which the contrary +proves true. We all have been so unfortunate at some time during our +lives as to be liked by people of whom we were not fond. But, if we +look the matter thoughtfully and honestly in the face, we will +acknowledge that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred we are +attracted toward a person as soon as we learn that that person finds +us agreeable. Of course this knowledge must not be conveyed in a +manner that disgusts by effusiveness a sensitive person. None of us +like fulsome flattery, but a compliment so delicately hinted that it +does not shock, and scarcely surprises the person for whom it is +intended, seldom fails to produce an impression that is far from +disagreeable. Certainly no more graceful compliment can be paid a man +or woman by us selfish mortals than the acknowledgment of an affinity +between ourselves and the person whom we would honor by our +friendship. Said a well-known scholar to me: + +"The most laudatory public speech ever addressed to me failed to make +my heart glow as warmly as did the remark of an old friend not long +ago. We had been separated for years, and at our reunion spent the +first hour in talking of old times, etc. Suddenly, my friend turned to +me, and grasping my hand exclaimed: + +"'Old fellow! you always were, and still are, my affinity!' + +"The subtle flattery of that one exclamation makes me even now thrill +with a delicious throb of self-conceit." + +Not long ago, I asked of an acquaintance who is a wonderful reader of +character: + +"Why has Mrs. S---- so many good friends?" + +"Because she is such a good friend herself." + +"But why is she attractive to so many people?" queried I. + +"Because she is first attracted by them," was the quick response. "She +goes on the principle that there is some good in everybody, and sets +herself to work to find it. Each of us knows when she is thrown into +contact with a person who likes her. It is as if each were surrounded +with tinted atmospheres,--some green, some blue, some red, or +yellow--in fact, there are more shades and colors than you can +mention. When two reds meet, they mingle; when two harmonious tints +touch, they may form a pleasing combination; but when such enemies as +blue and green come together, they clash--fairly 'swear at one +another,' and the persons enveloped in the opposing atmospheres are +mutually disagreeable. The man who is surrounded by the color capable +of most harmonious combinations is said to have personal magnetism." + +May not this explanation, while rather far-fetched, afford some clue +to the causes of personal popularity? And the thought following swift +upon this is: If this be true, how much may each of us have to do with +softening and making capable of harmony his and her own individual +atmosphere? While we cannot change our "colors" (to follow out my +friend's figure) we may shade them down and make them less pronounced, +so that in time they may become capable of a variety of combinations. + +Does not Faber touch upon this point, when he says: + + "The discord is within which jars + So roughly in life's song; + 'Tis we ourselves who are at fault + When others seem so wrong," + +We blame others for being uncongenial When the "discord is within," +that makes all things go awry. A drunken man sees the whole world go +around, and blames it, for its unsteadiness. + +One way to render less obtrusive an inharmonious color, if we possess +such is to keep it out of a strong light that will attract all eyes to +it. Do not let us be proud of our personal defects and peculiarities. +They are subjects for regret, not pride. When a woman boasts that she +"knows she is often impatient, but she simply cannot help it, she is +so peculiarly constituted!" she acknowledges a weakness of which she +should be ashamed. If she is so undisciplined, so untrained, that she +cannot avoid making life uncomfortable for those around her, she would +better stay in a room by herself until she learns self-control. Often +the very eccentricities of character to which we cling so tenaciously +are but forms of vanity. Why should our preferences, our likes or +dislikes be of more account than those of thousands of other people? + +Another great mistake we make is that we try the effect of other +colors with our own, and resent it hotly if they do not "go well +together." We do not insist that they shall be like ours in tint, but +they must act as good backgrounds, or form pleasing combinations with +ours, or we will none of them. Now it is quite possible for human +beings to hold contrary views from those entertained by you and me, +and still be excellent members of society and reputable Christians. To +many of us this seems incredible, but it is none the less true. Not +only are individual characters different, but environment and +education make us what we are. Very often a person who is uncongenial +to us, will, in the surroundings to which she is fitted, be at ease, +and perhaps even attractive. + +I do not say that we must like everybody. That is a physical, mental +and moral impossibility. But we may do others the justice of seeing +their good traits as well as the bad. And sometimes when we find a +chance acquaintance drearily uninteresting, it is because we do not +take the trouble to find out what is in her. + +Some people are always bored. May it not be because they look at +everything animate and inanimate from a selfish standpoint, with the +query in their minds, "How does that affect me?" The old definition of +a bore as "a person who talks so much of himself that he gives you no +chance to talk of yourself," may apply not only to the bore, but to +the bored. When you find yourself wearied and uninterested, be honest +enough to examine yourself calmly, and see if the reason is not +because your _vis-a-vis_ is not talking about anything which interests +you especially. Should he turn the conversation upon your favorite +occupation or pastime, or even upon your personal likes and dislikes +(which, by the way, might be an infinite bore to him), would he not at +once become entertaining? + +Viewed from a selfish and politic standpoint, it is to our interest to +make the best of everybody. We cannot always pick and choose our +associates in the school of life, and must frequently be thrown with +people whom we do not "take to," and, worse still, who may not "take +to" us. Since this be true, would it not be better for us to look at +their pleasantest side, and, by making ourselves agreeable to them, +insure their friendly feeling for us? The old saying that the +good-will of a dog is preferable to his ill-will, may still be quoted +with regard to many specimens of the _genus homo_ which we daily meet. + +There is one case in which I make an exception to all that I have +said--namely, when from the first, there is--not a feeling of dislike, +but a strong, uncontrollable personal antipathy. If you are generally +charitable and just, and have few actual dislikes, and meet a man +against whom your whole nature revolts, who is as repulsive to you as +a snake would be, avoid him. It is not necessary for you to tell +others of the uncomfortable impression he has made upon you. He may +not affect them in the same way. I acknowledge, not only from +observation, but from personal experience, that there are certain +people from whom one recoils with a feeling of physical as well as +mental repugnance. I believe that every woman who reads this talk has +an unerring feminine instinct which will thus prompt her when she +meets her own particular "Dr. Fell." + +But I also believe that we seldom meet characters which repel us in +this especial way. Oftener some slight to ourselves, some one +unfortunate speech, biases our judgment, and those against whom we are +thus prejudiced are even sometimes connected to us by ties of +consanguinity. We would do well to analyze the causes which lead to +our feelings of dislike, and I fear we should often find that wounded +self-esteem was the root of the evil. And, after all, what a great +matter a little fire kindleth! Let us quench the spark before it +ignites. It is arrant folly, not to mention wickedness, to make +enemies for the little while we are here. There is an incurable +heartache which comes from such mistakes. Owen Meredith describes it +in a poem, every verse of which throbs with hopeless love and regret, +and one of which teaches a lesson so much needed by us all that we +would do well to commit to memory the last two lines, and repeat them +almost hourly: + +"I thought of our little quarrels and strife, + And the letter that brought me back my ring; +_And it all seemed then, in the waste of life, + Such a very little thing!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE PERFECT WORK OF PATIENCE. + + +A slender little treble was singing it over and over again in childish +sort, with so little appreciation of the meaning of the words that the +oddity of the ditty was the first thing to attract my attention to it. + + "You'd better bide a wee, wee, wee! + Oh, you'd better bide a wee. + La, la, la, la, la, _la_, + You'd better bide a wee." + +The elf was singing her dolly to sleep, swinging back and forth in her +little rocking-chair, the waxen face pressed against the warm pink cushion +of her own cheek, the yellow silk of curls palpitating with the owner's +vitality mingling with the lifeless floss of her darling's wig. The picture +was none the less charming because so common, but it was not in admiring +contemplation of it that I arrested my pen in the middle of a word, holding +it thus an inch or two above the paper in position to resume the rapid rush +along the sheet it had kept up for ten minutes and more. I mused a moment. +Then, with the involuntary shake one gives his cranium when he has a +ringing in his ears, I finished the sentence:--"sideration, I cannot but +think that patience has had her perfect work." + +"You'd better bide a wee!" + +lisped the baby's song. + +I smiled slightly and sourly at what I called mentally "the pat +incongruity" of the admonition with mood and written words. A swift +review of the situation confirmed the belief that I did well to be +angry with the correspondent whose open letter lay upon the table +beside the unfinished reply. The letter head was familiar. Of late the +frequent sight of it had bred annoyance waxing into irritation. The +brisk interchange of epistles grew out of a business-matter in which, +as I maintained, I had been first ungenerously, then unfairly, finally +dishonestly dealt with. There was no doubt in my mind of the intention +to mislead, if not to defraud me, and the communication now under +advisement was in tone cavalier almost to the point of insult. Aroused +out of the enforced calm I had hitherto managed to preserve, I had +seated myself and set my pen about the work of letting him who had now +assumed the position of "that man," know how his conduct appeared in +the light of reason and common sense. I had not even withheld an +illusion to honesty and commercial morality. I had never done a better +piece of literary work than that letter. Warming to the task in +recounting the several steps of the transaction, I had not scrupled to +set off my moderation by a Rembrandtish wash of shadow furnished by my +correspondent's double-dealing, and to cast my civility into relief by +adroit quotations from his impertinent pages. When I said that +patience had had her perfect work, it was my intention to unfold in +short, stinging sentences my plans as to future dealings with the +delinquent. + +The singing on the other side of the room meant no more than the +chirping of a grasshopper upon a mullein-stalk. I did not delude +myself with the notion of providential use of the tongue that tripped +at the consonants and lingered in liquid dalliance with favorite +vowels. Yet, after ten motionless minutes of severe thinking, the +letter was deliberately torn into strips and these into dice, and all +of these went into the waste-paper basket at my elbow. I had concluded +to "abide a wee." If the sun went down that once upon my anger, he +arose upon cold brands and gray ashes. I had not changed my +intellectual belief as to my correspondent's behavior, but the +impropriety of complicating an awkward business by placing myself in +the wrong to the extent of losing my temper was so obvious that I +blushed in recalling the bombastic periods of the torn composition. + +Since that lesson, I have never sent off an angry or splenetic letter, +although the temptation to "have it out" upon paper has sometimes got +the better of my more sensible self. If the excitement is particularly +great, and the epistle more than usually eloquent of the fact that, as +the old-time exhorters used to say, I had "great liberty of speech," I +have always left it to cool over night. The "sunset dews" our mothers +sang of took the starch out of the bristling pages, and the "cool, +soft evening-hours," and nightly utterance of--"As we forgive them +that trespass against us,"--drew out the fire. + +"You'd better bide a wee!" + +I have sometimes thought of writing it down, as poor Jo of "Bleak +House" begged to have his last message to Esther Summerson +transcribed--"werry large,"--and pasting it upon the mirror that, day +by day, reflects a soberer face than I like to see in its sincere +depths--as one hot and hasty soul placarded upon her looking-glass the +single word "PATIENCE." To people whose tempers are quick and +whose actions too often match their tempers, one of the most difficult +of daily duties is to reserve judgment upon that which appears +ambiguous in the conduct of their associates. The dreary list of slain +friendships that makes retrospect painful to those of mature years; +the disappointments that to the young have the bitterness of death; +the tale of trusts betrayed and promises broken--how would the story +be shortened and brightened if conscientious and impartial trial of +the accused preceded sentence and punishment!--if, in short, we would +only "bide a wee" before assuming that our friend is false, or our +love unworthily given. + +In a court of justice previous character counts for much. The number +and respectability of the witnesses to a prisoner's excellent +reputation and good behavior have almost as much weight with the jury +as direct testimony in support of the claim that he did not commit the +crime. To prove that he could not, without change of disposition and +habit, violate the laws of his country, is the next best thing to an +established alibi. I should be almost ashamed to set down a thing +which everybody knows so well were it not that each one of us, when +his best friend's fidelity to him is questioned, flies shamelessly in +the face of reason and precedent by ignoring the record of years. He +may have given ten thousand proofs of attachment to him whom he is now +accused of wronging; have showed himself in a thousand ways to be +absolutely incapable of deception or dishonorable behavior of any +sort. A single equivocal circumstance, a word half-heard, a gesture +misunderstood; the report to his prejudice of a tale-bearer who is his +inferior in every respect,--any one of these outbalances the plea of +memory, the appeal of reason, the consciousness of the right of the +arraigned to be heard. Were not the story one of to-day and of every +day, the moral turpitude it displays would arouse the hearer to +generous indignation. + +Taking at random one of the multitude of illustrations crowding upon +my mind, let me sketch a vexatious incident of personal history. Some +years ago--no matter how many, nor how long was my sojourn in the town +which was the scene of the story--I accepted the invitation of an +acquaintance to take a seat in her carriage while on my way to call +upon a woman well known to us both. The owner of the equipage, Mrs. +D----, overtook me while I was trudging up the long street leading to +the suburb in which our common acquaintance lived. The day was bleak +and windy, and I was glad to be spared the walk. Mrs. C----, to whom +the visit was paid, came down to receive us with her hat and cloak on. +She was going down town presently, she said, and would not keep us +waiting while she laid aside her wraps. No! she would not have us +shorten our call on her account; she could go half an hour later as +well as now. A good deal was said of the disagreeable weather, and the +bad sidewalks in that new section of the city--as I recollected +afterward. At the time, I was more interested in her mention that her +favorite brother, an editor of note from another town and State, was +visiting her. She asked permission to bring him to call, and I +consented with alacrity, thinking, as I spoke, that I would, after +meeting him, arrange a little dinner-party of choice spirits in his +honor. + +When we were ready to go, Mrs. D----, to my surprise and +embarrassment, did not propose that our hostess should drive down-town +with us, although we were going directly back, and a cold "Scotch +mist" was beginning to fall. To this day, I do not know to what to +attribute what I then felt--what I still consider--was gross +incivility. The most charitable supposition is that it never occurred +to her that it would be neighborly and humane to offer a luxurious +seat in her swiftly rolling chariot to the woman who must otherwise +walk a mile in the chill and wet. She had the reputation of +absent-mindedness. Let us hope that her wits were off upon an +excursion when we got into the carriage and drove away, leaving Mrs. +C---- at the gate. + +Glancing back, uneasily, I saw her raise an umbrella and set out upon +her cheerless promenade directly in our wake, and I made a desperate +essay at redressing the wrong. + +"It is a pity Mrs. C---- must go out this afternoon," I said, +shiveringly. "She will have a damp walk." + +"Yes," assented my companion, readily. "That is the worst of being in +this vicinity. There is no street railway within half a mile." + +She went no further. I could go no further. The carriage was hers--not +mine. + +Mrs. C---- 's brother did not call on me, nor did she ever again. The +latter circumstance might not have excited surprise, had she not +treated me with marked coldness when I met her casually at the house +of a friend. In the busy whirl of an active life, I should have +forgotten this circumstance, or set it down to my own imagination, had +not her brother's paper contained, a month or so later, an attack upon +myself that amazed me by what I thought was causeless acrimony. Even +when I found myself described as rich, haughty and heartless, +"consorting with people who could pay visits to me in coaches with +monograms upon the doors, and turning the cold shoulder to those who +came on foot,"--I did not associate the diatribe with my visit to the +writer's relative. Five years afterward, the truth was made known to +me by accident. Mrs. C---- had judged from something said during our +interview that the equipage belonged to me, and that I had brought +Mrs. D---- to see her instead of being the invited party. I was now a +resident of another city. The story came to me by a circuitous route. +Explanation was impracticable. Yet it is not six months since there +fell under my eye a paragraph penned by the offended brother +testifying that his opinion of my insignificant self remains +unaltered. + +Had he or his sister suspended judgment until the evidence against my +ladyhood and humanity could be investigated, I should have had to +look elsewhere for an incident with which to point the moral of my +Talk. + +Rising above the pettiness of spiteful grudge-bearing against a +fellow-mortal, let me say a word of the unholy restiveness with which +we meet the disappointments which are the Father's discipline of His +own. "All these things are against me!" is a cry that has struck upon +His loving heart until Godlike patience is needed to bear with the +fretful wail. + +Nothing that He lets fall upon us can be "against" us! In His hottest +fires we have but to "hold still" and bide His good time in order to +see that all His purposes in us are mercy, as well as truth to His +promises. In the Hereafter deeded to us as a sure heritage, we shall +see that each was a part of His design for our best and eternal good. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"ACCORDING TO HIS FOLLY." + + +The hardest task ever set for mortal endeavor is for us to allow other +people to know less than we know. + +The failure to perform this task has kindled the fagots about the +stake where heretics perished for obstinacy. + +It is not a week, by the way, since I heard a woman, gently nurtured +and intellectual, lament that those "old Pilgrim forefathers were so +disagreeably obstinate." She "wondered that their generation did not +send them to the scaffold instead of across the sea." + +Inability to suffer the rest of the world to be mistaken has set a +nation by the ears, broken hearts and fortunes, and separated more +chief friends than all other alienating causes combined. Many +self-deluding souls set down their impatience with others' errors to a +spirit of benevolence. They love their friends too dearly, they have +too sincere a desire for the welfare of acquaintances, to let them +hold mischievous tenets. + +The cause of variance may appear contemptible to an indifferent third +party. + +To the average reasoner who has no personal concern in the debate, it +may seem immaterial at what date Mrs. Jenkyns paid her last visit to +Boston. She is positive that it was in March, 1889. Mr. Jenkyns is as +certain that she accompanied him thither in April of that year. She +establishes her position by the fact that she left her baby for the +first time when the cherub was ten months old, and there is the Family +Bible to prove that he was born May 10, 1888. Is she likely to be +mistaken on such a point when she cried all night in Boston and the +bereft infant wailed all night in New York? What does Charles take her +for? Hasn't he said, himself, dozens of times, that there is no use +arguing as to times and seasons with a woman who verifies these by her +children's ages? Mr. Jenkyns has said so--but with a difference. There +is no use arguing with a woman in any circumstances, whatsoever. That +Emma tries to carry her point now by lugging in the poor little kid, +who has nothing whatever to do with the case, is but another proof of +the inconsequence of the sex. He has the stub of his check-book to +show that he paid the hotel bill in Boston, April 11, 1889. Figures +cannot lie. Mrs. Charles Jenkyns challenges the check-book on the +spot--and the wrangle goes on until she seeks her chamber to have her +cry out, and he storms off to office or club, irritated past +forbearance by the pig-headed perversity of a creature he called +"angel" with every third breath on their wedding journey to Boston in +1886. + +Each of the combatants was confident, after the first exchange of +shots, that the other was in error. Half an hour's quarreling left +both doubly confident of the truth which was self-evident from the +outset. It is sadly probable that neither will ever confess, to +himself or to herself, that the only wise course for either to pursue +would have been to let ignorance have its perfect work, by abstaining +from so much as a hint of contradiction. + +"I don't see how you held your temper and your tongue!" said one man +to another, as a self-satisfied acquaintance strutted away from the +pair after a monologue of ten minutes upon a matter of which both of +his companions knew infinitely more than he. "I hadn't patience to +listen to him, much less answer him good-humoredly--he is such a +fool!" + +"I let him alone because he is a fool." + +"But he is puffed up by the fond impression that you agree with him!" + +"That doesn't hurt me,--and waste of cellular tissue in such a cause +would!" + +"Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit?" asks Solomon. "There is +more hope of a fool than of him." + +Which I take to mean that self-conceit is the rankest form of folly, a +sort of triple armor of defence against counter-statement and +rebutting argument. So far as my experience goes to prove a +disheartening proposition,--all fools are wise (to themselves) in +their own conceit. The first evidence of true wisdom is humility. One +may be ignorant without being foolish. Lack of knowledge because the +opportunity for acquiring it has been withheld, induces in the human +mind such conditions as we find in a sponge that has been cleaned and +dried. Information fills and enlarges the pores. Ignorance that is +content with itself is turgid and saturated. It will take up no more, +no matter what is offered. + +This is the form of folly which the preacher admonishes us to answer +in kind. The effort to force the truth upon the charged sponge is an +exercise of mental muscle akin to the beating of the air, deprecated +by the Apostle to the Gentiles. + +"Such stolid stupidity is incredible in a land where education is +compulsory!" exclaimed a friend who, having talked himself out of +breath in the effort to persuade a rich vulgarian into belief of one +of the simplest of philosophical principles, had the mortification of +seeing that his opponent actually flattered himself with the idea that +_he_ had come off victorious in the wordy skirmish. "One would have +thought that living where he does, and as he does, he would have taken +in such knowledge through the pores." + +"Not if the pores were already full," was a retort that shed new light +into the educated mind. + +Folly has a law and language of its own with which intelligence +intermeddles not. The workings of an intellect at once untrained and +self-sufficient are like the ways of Infinite Wisdom--past finding +out. + +Philosophy and politeness harmonize in the effort to meet such +intellects upon what they shall not suspect is "made ground." To apply +to them the rules of conversation and debate you would use in +intercourse with equals would be absurd, and disagreeable alike to you +and to themselves. They would never forgive a plain statement of the +difference between you and their guild. + +As a matter of curious experiment, I made the attempt once, in a case +of a handsome dolt, who was, nominally, a domestic in my employ for a +few months. She had an affected pose and tread which she conceived to +be majestic. She was stupid, awkward and slovenly about her work, and +altogether so "impossible" that I disliked to send her adrift upon the +world, and was still more averse to imposing her upon another +household. In a weak moment I essayed to reason her out of her fatuous +vanity, and stimulate in her a desire to make something better of +herself. She seemed to hearken while I represented mildly the +expediency of learning to do her part in life well and creditably; how +conscience entered into the performance of duties some people +considered mean; how, in this country, a washerwoman is as worthy as +the President's wife, so long as she respects herself. + +Norah's impassive face had not changed, but she interposed here: + +"Beg pardon, ma'am! I've no thought of taking a hand with the +washing." + +I was silly enough to go on with what I had tried to make so plain +that the wayfaring "living-out girl" could not err in taking it in. I +was willing to train her in the duties of her station. I set forth, +and would have specified what these were, but for a second +interruption that was evidently not intentionally disrespectful, and +was uttered with the bovine stolidity that never forsook her. + +"Excuse me, ma'am, but I've always understood that all that made a +lady in Ameriky was eddercation, an' shure I have that 's well 's +you!" + +She could read, or so I suppose, although I never saw a book in her +hand, and could probably write, after the fashion of her class. + +With a smile at my folly that struggled with a sigh over hers, I let +her go. It was my fault not hers, that I had bruised my fists thumping +against a stone wall. Had I discoursed to her in Bengalee she would +have comprehended me no more imperfectly. The doom of hopelessness was +upon her. She was not merely a fool, but had taken the full degree as +a self-satisfied blockhead. I deserved what I got--and more of the +same sort. + +Of a different type--being only a moderately conceited ignoramus, was +an otherwise well-educated woman whom I heard discourse volubly upon +ceramics and a valuable collection of old china she had picked up in a +foreign town. Among other kinds she named some choice bits of +"faience." + +"Is not that used now as a general term for earthenware decorated with +color?" asked a listener modestly. + +"Oh, by no means! It is never applied except to a particular and +exceedingly rare sort of pottery," went on the connoisseur. "But +perhaps you are not familiar with ceramic terms?" + +"Not as familiar as I should be, I confess," rejoined the other, +gently regretful. + +A couple of years later, I met the enthusiastic collector in the house +of the other party to the dialogue, and learned with her that our +hostess was renowned for her treasures of old china, and actually the +author of a book upon ceramics. + +"What must she have thought of me the day I made such a fool of +myself!" moaned the humbled woman in a corner to me. "And you know--as +I have learned since, as she knew all the time,--that 'faience' is +used as a generic term! Well! I have had my lesson in talking of what +I do not understand. How could she have answered me so civilly and +gravely!" + +I was too sorry for her to put into words the thought of the +proverbial answer, "according to his folly." The incident had its +moral and example for me too. The recollection has beaten back many a +vehement protest against egregious absurdity, and helped me endure +with apparent composure even the patronage of fools. + +After all, there are so many mistakes made by other people that affect +nobody but themselves that Don Quixote might tire of tilting at them. +The more asinine the speaker the louder is his bray, and the more +surely do we encounter him in social and domestic haunts. To dispute +with him is to strengthen the stakes, and twist harder the cords of +his belief in himself. In recognizing the truth, so humiliating to +human reason, one wonders what effect would be produced by a +determined regime of letting alone. Would what St. James graphically +describes as "foaming out of their own shame," finally froth itself +into silence? Is not the opposition consequent upon the universal +desire to set other people right, the breath that blows the flame? + +What would be the status of society, what the atmosphere of our homes, +were each of us to curb the impulse to controvert doubtful, but +important, statements:--to seem to acquiesce in--let us say, in Tom's +declaration that there are forty black cats in the back yard, and +Polly's opinion that Susie Jones is the prettiest girl in town, when +we consider her positively homely, and so on to the end of the day's +or week's or month's chapter? If, when we know that a man is a blatant +vaporer, we simply let him vapor, and mind our own business; if, +having gauged the measure of a woman's mind, and found it only an inch +deep, we do not fret our souls by vain dredgings in a channel to-day +that will fill up by to-morrow; if we give the fool the benefit of his +license; and expend thought and care upon that which is hopeful and +profitable--do we not prove ourselves prudent economists of time and +labor? + +The subject is practical, and merits consideration. In this +working-day world of ours there is so much unavoidable pain, and so +much annoyance which we cannot overlook, that sensible people cushion +corners and shrink aside from brier-pricks. We do ourselves actual +physical harm when we lose temper; the tart speech takes virtue out of +us. A woman would better fatigue herself by righting an untidy chamber +than scold a servant for neglecting it. Foreigners comment surprisedly +upon the "anxious faces" of American women even of the better class. +The inchoate condition of our domestic service has undoubtedly much +to do with the premature seams that mar what would else be fair and +sweet, but I incline to the belief that more is due to a certain +irritableness which is a national characteristic,--a restless desire +to set everything right. The zeal for reform is commendable, but not +always according to knowledge. Certain forms of folly cure themselves, +if not flattered by grave rebuke, and others do not come within the +province of her who has her hands full already. It is easier for us +all to find fault than to overlook. It "just drives our woman-reformer +wild to hear some people talk!" The least aggressive of us knows for +herself the impotent vexation of attempting to convince one who is too +dull, or too dogged, to see reason. Why, then, yield to the +disposition to attempt the impracticable? If we would live worthily +and live long, we must school ourselves in the minor details of +self-control and everyday philosophy that make up a useful and +well-balanced life. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +"BUTTERED PARSNIPS." + + +I shall never forget the first time I heard the homely proverb, once +better known than now, "Fine words butter no parsnips." + +A bitter-tongued old lady, with an eye like a hawk's, and a certain +suspicious turn of the head to this side and that which reminded one +of the same bird of prey, was discussing a new neighbor. + +"I don't hold with meaching ways at any time and in anybody," said the +thin croak, made more husky by snuff, a pinch of which she held +between thumb and finger, the joined digits punctuating her +strictures. "And she's one of the fair-and-softy sort. A pleasant word +to this one, and a smile to that, and always recollecting who is sick, +and who is away from home, and ready to talk about what pleases you, +and not herself, and praising your biscuits and your bonnets and your +babies, and listening to you while you are talking as if there was +nobody else upon earth." + +Like the octogenarian whose teeth gave out before his dry toast, she +"hadn't finished, but she stopped" there, being clean out of breath. + +"But Mrs. A.!" I raised my girlish voice to reach the deaf ears. "I +think all that is beautiful. I only wish I could imitate her, and be +as popular and as much beloved." + +"Humph!" inhaling the snuff spitefully. "She's too sweet to be +wholesome. Fair words butter no parsnips. Look out for a tongue that's +smooth on both sides. What does the Bible say of the hypocrite? 'The +words of his mouth were smoother than butter.' I'd rather have honest +vinegar!" + +I stood too much in dread of her frankness to ask if sugar is never +honest, or to speculate audibly why she chose parsnips with their +length of fibre and peculiar cloying sweet, as types of daily living. +The adage seemed droll enough to me then, and it is odd even now that +I have become familiar with it in the talk of old-fashioned people. +Interpreting it as they do, I dispute it stoutly. Parsnips may be only +passable to most palates even when buttered. They would be intolerable +with vinegar. Furthermore,--before we drop the figure,--if anything +can butter them, it is fair words. + +This business which we call living is not easy at the best. Our +parsnips are sometimes tough and stringy; sometimes insipid; often +withered by drought or frost-bitten. If served without sauce, they--to +quote our old-fashioned people again--"go against the stomach." + +There is a pernicious fallacy to the effect that a rough tongue is an +honest one. There are quite as many unpleasant untruths told as there +are flattering falsehoods. Because a speech is kind it is not of +necessity a lie, nor does a remark gain in truth in direct ratio as it +loses its politeness. Often the blunt criticism is the outcome of a +savage instinct on the part of the perpetrator. In America, men and +women (always excepting Italians) do not carry poniards concealed in +their breasts, or swords at their sides. In lieu of these the tongue +is used to revenge an evil. + +The Psalmist exclaims: "Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a +kindness; and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil," but +the average representative of the nineteenth century will not echo his +sentiment. It may be that the "righteous" of that day had a more +agreeable way of offering reproof than have the modern saints. However +that may be, the "excellent oil" seems to have given place to +corrosive sublimate and carbolic acid--neither of which, applied in an +undiluted form, may be even remotely suspected of soothing an open +wound. True, they are fatal to bacteria, but at the same time they +madden the sufferer as would coals of living fire. + +Even supposing one lays herself open to the charge of flattery, is it +not less of a fault than to merit the reputation for brutal +fault-finding? Who would not rather be a healer than a scarifier? + +"Faithful may be the wounds of a friend" (and on this word "friend" I +lay special stress), but the converse is also true. Faithful are his +healings. Have you never had a whole day brightened by some seemingly +chance remark which warmed the cockles of your heart with a delicious +glow? It may have been that you were disappointed in some cherished +scheme--how much disappointed no one guessed and you were ashamed to +confess. It may have been that you were struggling to be brave and +cheerful under some trial, the weight of which you thought others +could not appreciate. The cheering word may only have been--"My dear, +how sweet you are looking to-day! You do my old eyes good." Or perhaps +an appreciative other-half has pressed your hand and whispered, "You +are the bravest little woman in the world!" Who does not remember how, +at such a time, the unexpected sympathy or encouragement brought the +quick tears to the eyes, and to the cheeks the flush which meant a +bound of joy from the heavy heart? If we could but remember that we +are told to "speak the truth in love!" In "love," recollect,--not in +temper. Do not be the accursed one by whom the offences come. They +will come. The Evil One will look out for that, but it is not worth +while for you to make his work too easy. Determine to train yourself +strictly to see the many excellent qualities possessed by your +associates, and you will be surprised to find that before long the +disagreeable traits will only appear as foils for the good. Cultivate +an eye for pleasant characteristics, and do not encourage people who +are prone to rough speech. Frown down the blunt expression of opinion +and it will cease to be considered praiseworthy frankness. The woman +of whom the Royal Preacher speaks, "in whose tongue was the law of +kindness," probably showed that kindness by being agreeable, or we may +be sure no human being of the masculine gender would have considered +her price far above rubies; nor add with such sublime confidence--"her +husband also, and he praises her." + +One such woman never forgot to thank anyone for the slightest favor, +and I have seen a burly and phlegmatically sombre policeman smile with +unexpected pleasure at receiving the sweet-faced "thank you!" with +which she always acknowledged his pilotage over a crowded +street-crossing. + +It is time that people comprehended that it is not their duty to be +disagreeably frank, when another's comfort is the price thereof. An +unkind sentence has the power of lodgment in the mind. It is like the +red "chigoe" which inserts his tiny head in the flesh and burrows +until he causes a throbbing fester. For instance, I have never +forgotten a speech which was addressed to me over twenty years ago. It +was just after we had built an unpretending, but thoroughly cozy +summer cottage, nestled in a grove of trees that threw long shadows +into a silvery lake. The man in question told me he never saw our +light at night from the other side of the pretty sheet of water that +it did not "remind him of a charcoal-burner's hut in the heart of a +wilderness." It would be of interest to ascertain why this needlessly +unkind remark was made. Since there were at least one or two pleasant +features in the landscape, why could he not call attention to them? + +It is not necessary that we should flatter, but let us be lavishly +generous with what French cooks call _sauce agreable_, since parsnips +must be eaten. Some efforts in this line remind me of a story I +recently heard of a farmer who received at a New York restaurant the +customary small pat of butter with his Vienna roll. Imperiously +beckoning to a waiter, he commanded him to "wipe that grease spot off +that plate, and bring him some butter!" + +Let us give more than the grease spot. Better go to the other extreme, +and drown our friend's neglected parsnips in fresh, pure +un-oleomargarined, and entirely sweet butter. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +IS MARRIAGE REFORMATORY? + + +To no other estate are there so many varieties of phases as to that of +matrimony. Like the music of Saint Caecilia and old Timotheus combined, +it is capable of raising "a mortal to the skies," or of bringing "an +angel down" to the lowest depths of misery. At the best the betrothed +couple can never say with absolute certainty--"After marriage we shall +be happy." The experience of wedded life is alarmingly like that of +dying--each man and woman must know it for himself and herself, and no +other human being can share its trials or its joys. + +The mistake the prospective wife makes is in obstinately closing her +eyes to the fact that married life has any trials which are not far +outbalanced by its pleasures. Marriage does not change man or woman. +The impressive ceremony over, the bridal finery laid aside, the last +strain of the wedding-march wafted into space, and the orange-flowers +dead and scentless,--John becomes once more plain, everyday John, with +the same good traits which first won his Mary's heart, and the many +disagreeable characteristics that exasperated his mother and sisters. +And Mary, being a woman, and no more of a saint than is her +life-partner, will also be exasperated. If John is an honest gentleman +who loves Mary, the chances for her happiness depend upon her +common-sense and her love for John. It is utterly impossible to have +too much of the last-named commodity. It will be all needed, +well-blended with the divine attribute of patience, and judiciously +seasoned with woman's especial gift--tact, to enable man and wife to +live together peaceably for one year. + +Moreover, Mary must understand that John the lover and John the +husband have very different ways of showing affection. The lover would +loiter evening after evening waiting for other guests to go home that +he might have time for a few tender words with his sweetheart. Woman's +logic reasons,--"what more natural when he has hours of time than for +him to keep on saying those same tender words, only very many more of +them?" The fact remains that he does not. After the kiss of welcome on +his arrival home at the close of day, he is unsentimental enough to +want his dinner, and, that disposed of, he buries himself behind his +newspaper, from which perhaps he does not emerge before nine o'clock +when he is ready to talk to Mary and to be entertained by her. + +And yet this John of whom I am talking is as good morally, as faithful +and conscientious in his manly way as Mary in her womanly. + +But--suppose he were not a good man, what then? Could the mere fact of +his union with her change his entire nature? + +A good man may be made better by association with a good woman; a man +with repressed evil tendencies may have them held more firmly in check +by his wife's restraining influence, but no woman should undertake to +"make over" a man who has given way to the wicked passions of his +being until they are beyond his control. He will not be made a +reputable member of society and a bright and shining light to the +community in which he dwells, by marrying. He does not go into the new +life as a sort of Keeley cure,--a reformatory institution. A woman's +strongest and weakest point is her power of idealizing every cold fact +with which she comes in contact. She loves a handsome roue. He tells +her that if she will but take him in training she can make a new man +of him; that her fair hand can wipe all the dark spots from his past +life, smooth the rough places and elevate the depressions in his +character until it will be once more goodly to contemplate. And over +the stereopticon view of the man his fiancee throws the rosecolored +light of her idealistic lantern, and believes all he says. Of course +during their engagement he frequently slips back into the old path, +sometimes has a downfall that shocks and horrifies her who would +reform him, but, once more trimming and turning up the wick, she +bathes him in the pink light and remembers that he is not yet as +entirely under her influence as he will be some day. She would think +it cruel injustice were some unprejudiced observer to suggest that if +he cannot change his life when the possibilities of winning her are at +stake, he will hardly do so when the prize is his own. + +It is doubtful if a man whose whole nature has become stunted, warped +and foul by sin, has in him the ability to love a true woman as she +deserves to be loved. I do not mean to intimate that his devotion to +her is feigned, but it is only such attachment as he is capable of, +and is no more to be compared with the unselfish love that she freely +lavishes upon him, than the mud-begrimed slush which settles in city +gutters to the snowy blanket covering country fields. + +Beauty and the Beast may be a pretty fairy-tale, but in the realism of +practical life it assumes the guise of a tragedy that makes the +looker-on shudder with disgustful pity. My heart aches when I think of +the women who began the work of reformation with hope and laid it +down with despair at the end of a life that made them "turn weary arms +to death" with a sigh of welcome. On the table before me stands the +portrait of one such woman. When she was a merry-hearted girl, she +fell in love with a handsome, brilliant young fellow, whose only +failing was a dangerous fondness for liquor. He loved her +deeply--better than anything else in the world--except drink. +Nevertheless, he promised to overcome even this passion for her sake. +During the month immediately preceding their marriage, he came twice +into her presence intoxicated. In vain did her family plead and +protest. Her only answer was: + +"Harry cannot keep straight without some one to help him. I must marry +him now. He needs me!" + +Two years after her marriage she died of a broken heart, whispering at +the last to a dear friend that she "was not sorry to go, but would be +thankful life was over if she were only sure that her year-old baby +would not be left to Harry's care." + +Yet he was in most respects tender and considerate. The trouble was +that his devotion to her remained at the point at which it stood when +he became her husband. The habit of intemperance grew. + +Suppose that, added to this great fault, had been others still more +vicious. Had his been a coarse brutal nature, would not the idea of +reformation have been still more hopeless? + +A woman, in tying herself for life to an unprincipled man who has +yielded to the dictates of sin year after year, forgets that he has +lost to a great extent his better nature and is now hardly responsible +for his actions. The spirit may indeed be willing, but the flesh is +lamentably weak. The appetites that have been long indulged do not +relinquish their claims after only a few months' restraint, and when +the girl for whose sake they have been repressed is won, they will +return to the swept and garnished room, and the last end of their +victim will be worse than the first. + +I often wonder what a good, pure woman promises herself when she +proposes to entwine her clean life with one that is scarred, seamed +and blackened. Evade the truth as she may, there are but two courses +for her to pursue. She must either live a lonely life apart from her +husband's, frowning down, or silently showing disapproval of his +habits, or she must, to preserve peace and the semblance of happiness, +bring herself down to his level and become even less delicate and more +degraded than he. For is not a coarse woman always more abhorrent +than a coarse man? There are the instincts of her entire moral and +physical nature to be cast aside before she can descend to vulgarity. +In the one case her husband will hate her, while in the other she will +lose his respect and will despise herself. + +An evil life so blunts the conscience that the wife of an unreformed +man need hardly expect him to be faithful to her. If a man will sin +against common decency, morality and social codes, he will sin against +his wife. + +There is another aspect of the case to be considered. The American +girl of to-day seldom takes the possibility of offspring into her +matrimonial plans. They are not only a possibility, but a probability, +and it behooves every woman to cast aside false modesty, and with a +pure heart and honest soul seriously consider if she is not doing +irreparable wrong to unborn children in giving them an unprincipled +father. Is she willing to see her children's blood tainted by his +vices, their lives wrecked by evil temptations inherited from him? She +must, indeed, be a reckless woman and a soulless, who, with this +thought uppermost can still say, "I will marry this man--let the +consequences be what they may!" + +That a man has some redeeming qualities does not make him a +life-companion to be desired above all others. Said a poor Irish +woman: + +"Pat is always a good husband, savin' the toimes he's in liquor!" + +"When is he sober?" asked a bystander. + +"Sure an' his money gin'rally gives out by Friday mornin', and from +that on to Saturday night, he can't git a dhrop. Faith, but he's koind +and consid'rate at sich a time!" + +Did the loyal soul find that marriage paid? + +One great mistake that many silly women make is to think that a dash +of wickedness makes a man more attractive. Years ago I heard a girl +say: + +"I want to know Jack S. He has been very wild, and a man is so much +more interesting for being a little naughty, you know." + +I did not "know," nor do I now understand why pearls should plead to +be thrown before swine, or fresh-blown roses upon the dung-hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"JOHN'S" MOTHER. + + +One of the oldest problems among the many seemingly contradictory +"examples" set for the student of human nature has to do with the +different positions assigned to mother and mother-in-law. + +Painters, poets, divines, sages,--the inspired Word itself,--rank the +mother's office as the noblest assigned to creatures of mortal mould. +Mother-love and the love of the dear Father of us all are compared, +the one with the other. Of all human affections, this, the first that +takes root in the infant's heart, is the last to die out under the +blighting influence of vice, the deadening blows of time. "My Mother" +is spoken by the world-hardened citizen with a gentler inflection,--a +reverential cadence, as if the inner man stood with uncovered head +before a shrine. + +Mother-in-law! The words call a smile that is too often a sneer to +lips in which dwells habitually the law of kindness, while lampoon, +caricature, jest and song find in them theme and catchword for mockery +and insult. + +I witnessed, not long ago, the skillful impersonation of a husband who +held in his hand a letter just received from his wife. The first page +informed him that after his departure from home his wife's mother had +arrived; the second, that she intended to remain during the winter; +the third, that she had been taken suddenly and violently ill; and the +fourth, that she was dead. The reader spoke no word while perusing the +epistle, but his facial play attested his emotions better than speech +could have done. His countenance was grave on learning of the visit, +desperate at the thought of its length, and expressed annoyance at the +inconvenience of her illness while under his roof; when the final page +was reached, his features became illumined with ecstatic joy. Dropping +the letter, he clasped his hands, and, raising his eyes, ejaculated +with blissful fervor-- + +"Thank Heaven! she's dead!" + +Of course we laughed. It was expected of us. Nevertheless, this kind +of jesting has its effect. It is dangerous playing with edged tools +that would be better laid aside and allowed to rust instead of being +brought forward where they may do mischief. + +The relation of mother-in-law and son-or daughter-in-law ought to be +what I am glad to think it sometimes is, one of perfect harmony. The +mother who has brought up a daughter to woman's estate, and made her +fit to be the wife of a good man and the mother of his children, +should be appreciated by the man who profits by the wife's mother's +teachings. Had this mother been careless and negligent, allowing the +daughter to cultivate traits that make her husband wretched, how quick +would he be to lay the blame where it belongs,--upon the mother who +trained, or left untrained the daughter. Why should he not give +credit to the same source? + +There are many women who, to their shame be it said, openly sneer at +their mothers-in-law, and ridicule their manners, habits, etc. Yet, in +the same breath, the woman of this class will freely state that she +has "the best husband in all creation." Whose influence made him the +man he is, if not the mother's with whom, for so many years, he was +the first and dearest care, until she uncomplainingly saw him leave +her home with the girl he married? + +Husband and wife do not look into the matter deeply enough to think +what underlies this dislike for the other's mother. The man who truly +loves his wife will do all in his power and make any self-sacrifice to +further her happiness. If she is not an exceptional woman, she will be +made happier by his affection for the mother to whom she is devoted, +and miserable by a lack of this sentiment. Let us argue the case +according to rule. It makes Mary happy if John is fond of her mother, +and unhappy if he is not. If John loves Mary he wishes to make her +happy. _Ergo_, when he shows his love for her mother he is likewise +giving evidence of his love for Mary. + +So, when I hear a so-called devoted wife cast unkind slurs upon her +mother-in-law, I wonder how genuine is the affection for her husband +which allows her to make him unhappy by awaking in his breast +suspicions that his mother is distasteful to his wife. True love would +hardly be so cruel. What if John's mother has disagreeable +peculiarities? She is none the less his mother, and, as such, he is +bound to love and respect her. If the love he bears her blinds him to +her deficiencies, is it not the part of a true wife to keep his eyes +closed to these foibles, since seeing them will make him +uncomfortable? Every man likes to feel that his dear mother and dearer +wife are congenial friends. And it is their duty to be friendly, if +not congenial. + +The mother-in-law, too, has her task. It would be folly to state that +she is not often and grossly to blame for the uncomfortable state of +this relationship. She is frequently a trifle jealous, sometimes fails +to remember how she felt when young, resents her child's love for, and +dependence on, another, feels bitterly that she no longer has it in +her power to make her darling's happiness, and has such a high ideal +of what should be the qualities of the partner her girl has chosen +that she puts his faults under a magnifying glass of criticism until +the molehills become mountains, and appreciation of the good is +swallowed up in recognition of every evil trait. Happily, this is not +always the case, and the genuine mother is, as a rule, so grateful to +see her child happy that for his or her sake she loves the one who +causes this contentment, even if he or she be far from congenial to +herself, and "not the man she would have picked out for her daughter +to marry." + +I have serious doubts as to whether the existing antagonism would have +been half so prevalent had not such a multitude of coarse jokes been +perpetrated on the subject. The best way to perpetuate an evil is to +take it for granted and to speak of it as a matter of course. I am +glad to be able to name among my friends more than one man who is +large-souled enough to tenderly love and respect his wife's mother, +and several women who frankly acknowledge that their own special +mothers-in-law are all goodness and kindness. + +It is natural that people brought up differently, and living +separately for a long term of years, should, when thrown into close +relationship, differ on many subjects, and clash in various opinions, +and that occasional misunderstandings should arise. Even with husband +and wife this is true. But if man and woman can, for the affection +they bear each other, forgive and forget these little differences, why +may not each, for the same sweet love's sake, and in the thought of +what maternal devotion is, pardon and overlook the foibles of the +other's mother? + +One evil effect of pasquinade and sneer is to put the prospective +daughter-in-law on the defensive, and prepare her mind, unconsciously +to herself, to regard her future husband's mother as her natural +enemy. Many a girl marries with the preconceived notion that, to +preserve her individual rights, and to rule in her own small +household, she must carefully guard against the machinations of the +much-decried mother-in-law. Nine times out of ten, had not this +thought become slowly but securely rooted in past years, the +intercourse between the two women might be all peace and harmony. The +young wife's mind is, insensibly to her, poisoned before she enters +the dreaded relation (in law). She is on the alert, defensive, ready +to impute motives to the mother-in-law she would never dream of +attributing to her own parent, in like circumstances. + +Yet, many a girl has never known what maternal love means until at her +marriage she was welcomed by the open arms and large heart of her +husband's mother. It is not only orphan girls who have this +experience, for some parents never bestow upon their children the +peculiar brooding tenderness which all young people need, even when +they have almost attained man's and woman's estate. Said one youthful +matron to me--"My own mother has been an invalid for so many years +that I have not felt that I could go to her with all my worries and +perplexities, for my annoyances only added to her troubles. Therefore, +never until I was married did I know what real "mothering" meant. Then +my husband's mother seemed as much mine as his. I was her "daughter." +When my first baby was coming, all the dainty little garments were +furnished by this grandmamma, and her care and tenderness for me were +such that the remembrance of them fills my heart to overflowing with +gratitude." Another woman told me with a moved smile that she was "so +fortunate a woman as to have two mothers," while a man I know openly +declares that his mother-in-law is "the best mother in the +world,--next to his own mother." + +One elderly woman, who has been a mother-in-law five times, informed +me the other day that in her heart she knew little difference between +her own daughters and sons and their respective husbands and wives. +"You see," she said, "they are all my dear children." + +I cite these instances merely to prove how happily harmonious this +oft-abused state may be, and what a pity it is that it should ever be +otherwise. + +If you, my reader, do not enjoy the relationship, allow me to suggest +a cure for the trouble. Put your own mother--or daughter--in the place +of the offender, and act according to the light thrown upon the +subject by this shifting of positions. Say to yourself--"This woman +means well, but she does not know me yet well enough to understand +just how to put things in the way to which I have been accustomed. She +loves John so well that she seems unjust or inconsiderate to me. She +could not, in the eyes of John's wife, have a better excuse for hasty +speech or harsh action." + +The love you both bear this same oft-perplexed John should be at once +solvent and cement, melting hardness, and uniting seemingly +antagonistic elements. + +Above all things, as John's wife, never criticise his mother to him. +If he sympathizes with you, he is disloyal to his mother; if not, you +consider him unfeeling, and immediately accuse him of "taking sides" +against you. Think for one moment of your own boy, perhaps still a +mere baby. Does it not, even now, grieve you to the heart to think +that the day will come when he will discuss and acknowledge your +faults to anyone, albeit his listener is only his wife? If John is the +man he should be, he fancies that his mother is "a creature all too +bright and good" to be criticised, and, as you want your son to have +the same opinion of his mother, uphold John in his fealty, and scorn +to destroy such blessed love and faith. Make the effort to see John's +mother with his eyes, and by so doing make him love you better, and +prove yourself worthy to be the wife of a true man and the mother of a +son who will be as leal and steadfast as his father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +AND OTHER RELATIONS-IN-LAW + + +The other day I chanced to be a listener to the conversation of two +young married women. They were making their plans for the coming week. +One of them remarked, drearily: + +"Henry's sister and her husband are to spend next Sunday with me." + +"Are they!" exclaimed the other. "And my husband's father and mother +are to honor me by a visit on the same day." + +For a moment there was silence, then No. 1 said in an awed voice: + +"My dear, you and I need the prayers of the congregation. We are both +objects of pity. Our relations-in-law are upon us!" + +Within my secret self I pondered whether or not the visitors dreaded +the expected ordeal as much as the visited did. + +The phrases, "my husband's relatives," "my wife's family," are seldom +pronounced without an accompanying bitter thought. John tolerates +Mary's kin, and Mary regards John's father and mother, sisters and +brothers with an ill-concealed distrust and enmity. Sometimes there is +just cause for this antagonistic feeling; more frequently it is the +outcome of custom. It is fashionable to regard connections by marriage +as necessary evils. Some families, resolved to make the best of that +which is inevitable, put a smiling face upon the whole matter, and +hide from the outside world the knowledge of their chagrin. No mother +has ever seen the girl she thought quite good enough for her boy whom +she considers the model of all that is noble and manly, while that +sister is rare who feels that the wife chosen by her favorite brother +is what "the dear boy really needs as a life-long companion." Once in +a great while, when the chosen bride by some remarkable chance happens +to suit the family fancy, the whole world is informed of the fact, and +the bride elect inwardly pronounces John's blood relations to be +"awfully gushing" or "desperately hypocritical." The happy medium is +difficult of attainment. + +Of course there are some exceptions to the general rule of +antagonism. And I am glad to believe that sometimes, even when this +feeling exists, husband and wife are too considerate of one another's +comforts to betray any sign of discontent. Said a woman to me: + +"My dear, Mrs. S. is John's mother, and it is my duty to conceal from +him the fact that she is disagreeable to me. I could be a much happier +woman for never seeing my mother-in-law again, but my husband must +never suspect it. The dear fellow flatters himself that his wife and +mother 'hit it off so well together.' To our credit be it said, that +we have never enlightened him as to the true state of affairs." + +And for the sake of the man they both loved, these women refrained +from outward evidence of the intense dislike each felt for the other. + +The trouble begins very far back. When the boy is laughingly warned +against "the girl with a family," and the girl is reminded that this +or that jolly fellow "has a dragon of a mother," the evil seed is +sown. From that time until the pair are forever united at the altar, +it grows, and with marriage it begins to bring forth the unpeaceable +fruits of endless dissensions. I sometimes wonder if the new life +could be begun with a predisposition towards amity, what the result +would be. + +There is fault on both sides from the beginning. It is an accepted +proverb that no house is large enough to hold two families, and +certainly no family is large enough to contain two factions. As soon +as the son of the household marries, an antagonistic element is +introduced. Mother and sisters immediately bring to bear upon the new +bride opera-glasses of criticism,--viewing faults through the small +end, and virtues through the large. + +It would be strange indeed if two women who have never met until the +younger one was of a marriageable age, should have the same methods of +housekeeping, etc. But the mother-in-law is inclined to believe that +John's wife should do things her way, and that any other way is +slovenly, new-fangled, or ridiculous. The son's wife--possessing her +share of individuality--resents the interference, and shows that +resentment. Too often, alas! both make the dreary mistake of retailing +their sorrows to John, and then the breach becomes too wide ever to be +bridged over. Unless John is an exceptionally independent man he will +attempt in his clumsy way to bring both women to the same way of +thinking, and the result would be ludicrous were it not also pitiful. +The chances are nine hundred and ninety-nine to one thousand that he +will succeed in making his mother feel that he is unduly influenced +by his silly wife, while said wife thinks indignantly that John is, +and always will be, "under his mother's thumb." + +I firmly believe that Mary is often to blame for John's dislike for +her family. When she marries, she revels in the new and delightful +sensation of having some one to "take her part," and sympathize with +her in all her petty annoyances and big troubles. Her father, mother, +sisters and brothers often vex her, and what more natural than that +she should pour her tale of woe into the young husband's ears? He is +delightfully indignant and full of pity for her and resentment towards +those who have caused her discomfort. At all events he understands +her! + +By the time the story is told and she is duly consoled she has +forgotten her injuries. She loves her family, and while they are +sometimes very trying, who could expect her to bear a grudge against +the dear ones? The little burst of anger over, she feels towards them +as she has always felt and banishes from her mind all thought of the +little occurrence. + +Not so, John! His wife (and the possessive pronoun casts about her an +atmosphere of importance) has been made uncomfortable, and he is up in +arms. His and no one's else is the right to criticise Mary. What +business have these people to interfere? He immediately becomes his +wife's most ardent champion, and while he muses the fire burns, until +he is ready to take the poor little woman away from all her +inconsiderate relatives. What is his chagrin on discovering that the +woman who, but a few hours ago sobbed out to him her wrongs, has +seemingly overlooked all injuries, and is just as fond of sister and +brother, and quite as dependent upon "Papa and Mamma" as she ever was. +In vain he protests and calls to her mind their injustice. Yes, she +remembers it, now that he speaks of it, but the dear people meant +nothing unkind, they love her dearly at heart. For her part she could +not take to heart a little thing like that. And John remarks that if +she is mean-spirited enough to pass by such an occurrence, he has +nothing to say. It is her family, thank goodness, not his! After this, +he is more quick than ever before to detect a fancied slight and to +resent it. Mary laments secretly that "John does not love her family." +It is a genuine grief to her, and she does not appreciate the fact +that she herself began the work that has now gone too far to check. + +Were I to give a piece of advice to a bride, it would be--Never +complain to your husband of the actions of a single member of your +family, and never find fault with _his_ nearest of kin. Your liege +lord may disapprove of the members of his own family, or perhaps of +some of his mother's characteristics, and he may talk to you of them. +But he will hotly resent your mention of them, and will exercise all +his masculine ingenuity to prove that his relatives always mean to act +for the best,--exactly what you would have him believe of your nearest +and dearest. A woman who has never had a suspicion of difference with +her relations-in-law, confides to me of the course she has pursued +throughout her married life. She says: + +"I have never told Charlie that I notice the faults of his family, nor +have I ever called his attention to any of their foibles. In that way +I have prevented him from feeling that he must side with them against +me. He comes to me often with the story of some difference he has had +with his mother, and he talks freely of his sister's failings and his +brother's inconsistencies. He even sometimes gets righteously +indignant, and fairly sputters. Inwardly, I chuckle with amusement, +and outwardly I appear sympathetic, but never a word do I say to +commit myself. It is his family, and if there is a row, I, to quote +Young America, 'am not in it.'" + +I happen to know that this woman's husband's family think that +"Charlie has a none-such of a wife," and that they are all fond of +her. + +If tact and diplomacy are ever exercised, it must be in the management +of relations-in-law. The thought that so often the state is one of +hatred, or, at best, tolerance, makes the position of all concerned +strained and delicate. To many a mother the term "mother-in-law" is a +much-dreaded appellation. A woman upon whom this doubtful honor has +recently been laid, said to me: + +"I hope my boy will never set his wife against me by asking her to 'do +things as his mother did.' I shudder to think of it. I want him to +tell her that the mince and pumpkin pies, biscuits, muffins, and even +gingerbread, made by his wife are vastly superior to any ever produced +by his mother. I would rather take the second place in my son's +affections than have my new daughter for one moment think of me as her +'mother-in-law.'" + +I believe that this is the sincere sentiment of more than one fond +mother, as I am also sure that many a fond wife would rather have her +husband loved by her own family than to receive so much affection +herself. She is sure of her position, but John is a dreadful +"relation-in-law," and it is hard to love such. It is sad to think +such a mother or wife makes a fatal mistake from the very start, and +herself brings about the state of affairs she dreads. + +The recognition of a fact often seems to make it doubly true. The +knowledge that relations-in-law are frequently relations-at-war, +predisposes both parties to unjust judgment. Did each determine to see +all the good possible in the other, connections-by-marriage might +become kin-at-heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A TIMID WORD FOR THE STEP-MOTHER. + + +At a luncheon party of a dozen women which I attended last winter, +this very topic was introduced. Strangely enough, there were present +three women whose mothers had died while the children were still +infants, and whose fathers had married again, and two women who were +themselves step-mothers. Each of the three who could not remember her +own mother agreed that she who took her place had filled it so +conscientiously that the child hardly felt the lack. The two +step-mothers confessed that they loved their husbands' children as +dearly as their own. Said one woman: + +"When people speak to me of my step-daughter I have to stop and think +which one of the children I did not bring into the world. She is as +dear to me as my own flesh and blood." + +After we had gleaned all the evidence of truth from the chaff to which +we are sometimes treated, a lively member of the company remarked +ruefully: + +"I declare, all that I have just heard makes me positively ashamed +that I did not have a step-mother, or that there is no prospect as far +as I can see into the dim future, of my ever becoming one." + +There is something to be said on both sides, and we may as well face +the facts without prejudice. No woman, however tender, can really take +an own mother's place. Her step-children may think that she does, and +this is one of the instances where ignorance is such genuine bliss +that it would be cruel folly to enlighten it. It would not be natural +if actual mother-love could be felt by a woman toward any children +save those for whom she has braved the danger of death and the +mightiest pain mortal can know. With this suffering comes a love far +greater than the anguish, a passionate devotion which, we are certain, +must reach beyond the grave itself. That mother who, having young +children, still wishes to die, is an anomaly rarely met with. No +matter how much she may be forced to endure, she still prays to live +for her sons' and daughters' sakes. A poor sufferer once said: + +"If I had no child I would beg the good Lord to let me die. But while +my baby lives, I beg Him to spare this life which is too valuable to +Him to be lost." + +It is not possible that an outsider "whose own the sheep are not" +should know this heaven-given feeling. Still, every unselfish mother +will acknowledge that were she dying, she would be comforted to know +that her children would find some conscientious, true foster-mother +who would bring them up just as faithfully and tenderly as she knew +how to do. + +There is no more forlorn being on this wide earth than a widower with +little children, and with no woman-relative to help him look after +them. Why then this rooted hatred and horror of step-mothers? + +You--my step-mother reader--are sadly unfortunate if anyone has been +so cruel to you and your charges as to instil into their minds an +aversion for you with whom they must live for years, perhaps all their +lives. But, perhaps, after all, the case is not so bad as you fear. +You may have a morbid sensitiveness on the subject which makes it look +very dark to you. Even if matters are as you think, if you try +conscientiously to overcome the children's prejudice, and your husband +aids you in your efforts, you are bound to live down their dislike. +Children are tender-hearted and clear-sighted. They will soon judge +for themselves, and the one rule against which they will not rebel is +that of love. The first thing for you to do is to begin with your own +feelings. _Make_ yourself love the little ones. Unless they are +unusually unattractive the task will not be a difficult one. Perhaps +you love them already. If so, half the battle is won. In driving a +restless horse, it is absolutely essential that you should not be at +all nervous yourself. Every horseman will tell you that the animal +knows instinctively the character of the person managing him. If a +thrill of fear touches him who holds the reins, the horse responds to +it as to an electric shock, and becomes almost beside himself with +nervousness. If a firm, steady, yet gentle grasp is on the lines, the +creature obeys in spite of himself. This same principle applies to +children. If you cannot control yourself the children know it, and you +may as well give up all idea of curbing them. The nervous twitching at +the bit and the attempt to govern them by reason of your superior age +or knowledge aggravates the evil. It is a mistake to forget that +children are human beings, with sensitive feelings like our own, only +not as hardened and used to the ways of this unsympathetic world as +we are. Their government must have love at its beginning, continuing +and ending if it would be successful. + +You may as well recognize the fact first as last that you are laboring +under a disadvantage in that the hyphenized "step" must precede your +name of mother. This being the case, you have need to add to your love +patience, and to that tact, and to that pity. If the children +exasperate you, do not let them guess it. Keep a rigid guard upon the +harsh tongue. If the demon of Impatience tempts you to utter the quick +"Stop that noise!" or "Do be quiet!"--seal your lips as surely as if +life and death depended upon your silence. Your most severe critics +will not be slow in discovering that you love them too much to "scold" +or be cross. You make tremendous strides towards their love when they +cannot point to a single unjust act that you commit against them. + +It may be well in passing to remind you that boys and girls remember +an injustice for many years. They themselves are often fair enough to +acknowledge after the first flush of anger is over, that they merited +a punishment which they have received. As a rule, until they are old +men and women, they do not forget the undeserved blow, the unprovoked +sarcasm. We many times receive patiently, as grown men and women, +reminders that we are doing wrong, but we find it hard to pardon the +person who accuses us falsely. + +The most powerful auxiliary love can have in accomplishing its end is +tact. Some people have more than others, but at all times it may be +cultivated. Perhaps the best rule by which to learn it is the old one +of "Put yourself in his place." Reverse the positions as in Anstey's +"Vice Versa," and imagine yourself a hot-headed, sore-hearted, +prejudiced child, with a step-mother against whom your mind has been +poisoned by those older and presumably wiser than yourself. How would +you receive this or that correction? Acquire the habit of thus putting +the matter before your mind's eye, and you will soon find that tactful +patience becomes second nature. + +If you can possibly avoid it, do not correct the children in the +presence of other people, or complain to their father of them. If he +once reproves them with the prefix, "Your mother tells me that you +have done so-and-so," he has laid the foundations of a distrust +difficult to remove. Rather let them domineer over you than try to +manage them by appealing to their father, and, thus making them feel +sure that you are attempting to prejudice him against them. They are +naturally suspicious, and it will take very little to make them +positively certain that you are their natural enemy. + +Never fail to remember the great and irreparable loss which these +children have suffered in the death of the only person in the wide +world who could thoroughly understand them. If you had a mother to +help you in your childhood, you will know what they miss, or, if you, +too, were a lonely little being, let the memory of that loneliness +make you lovingly pitiful towards the children who suffer in the same +way. Such pity soon leads to an unconquerable love. + +Bear in mind in justification of what may seem like unreasonable +prejudice, that all children have heard many stories, some of which +are true, of the cruelties of step-parents. Doubtless, you in your own +life, have known of more than one second wife who was jealous of her +husband's love for the first wife's children. When women are heartless +they are desperately cruel, and do not hesitate to vent their hatred +upon the little ones whose look, Mrs. Browning tells us,-- + + "is dread to see, +For they mind you of their angels in high places, + With eyes turned on Deity." + +She also reminds those whose consciences are so hardened by +selfishness that they dare be cruel to the mere babies in their care +that-- + +"The child's sob in the darkness curses deeper + Than the strong man in his wrath." + +We have not to do in this Talk with this type of woman, but with +beings of the mother-sex who would, if they were allowed, make life +brighter for the bereaved little ones. + +One way to keep step-children's affection is to talk to them often and +reverently of their own mother. This is due to them and to her who +bare them. Do not allow them to forget her, and guard against the +entrance of any jealous feeling into this sacred duty of keeping her +memory fresh. The children were hers, and in the eternal home will be +hers again. They are only lent to you as a sacred trust. It is not +sacrilegious to believe that their mother knows of your efforts to +make them good men and women, and that she, as their guardian angel, +will not forget to bless her who gives her life to the children who +were once "the sweetest flowers" her own "bosom ever bore." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +CHILDREN AS HELPERS. + + +A correspondent inquires whether or not children ought to be trained +to do housework and to make themselves useful in the numerous ways in +which the young hands and feet can save the older ones. + +Unless you expect to be a millionaire many times over, and in +perpetuity--emphatically Yes! + +It is not necessary that your little daughter should become a drudge; +that she should have imposed upon her tasks beyond her strength, or +which interfere with out-door exercise and merry in-door play. But +through all her childhood must be borne in mind the fact that she is +now in training for womanhood, that should she ever marry and have a +home of her own, the weight of unaccustomed household tasks will bend +and bruise the shoulders totally unaccustomed to burdens of any kind. + +If you have a colt that in years to come you intend using as a +carriage-horse, you will not let him stand idle in the stable eating +and fattening until he is old enough for your purpose. He would then +be, in horse-parlance, so "soft" that the lightest loads would weary +and injure him. Instead of that, while still young, he is frequently +exercised, and broken in, judiciously, first to the harness, then to +draw a light vehicle, and so on, until he himself does not know when +the training ceases and the actual work begins. + +The college-boy, looking forward to "joining the crew," trains for +months beforehand, walking, running, rowing, until the flaccid muscles +become as firm and hard as steel. + +In America, where fortunes are made, lost, and made and lost again in +a day, we can never say confidently that our children will inherit so +much money that it will always be unnecessary for them to work. And, +even could we be sure that our daughters will marry wealthy men, we +should, for their own happiness and comfort, teach them that there is +work for everyone in this world, and certain duties which every man +and woman should perform in order to preserve his or her self-respect. + +By the time your child can walk, he may begin to make himself useful. +One little boy, three years old, finds his chief delight in "helping +mamma." He has his own "baby duster" with which he assiduously rubs +the rungs of the parlor chairs until his little face beams with the +proud certainty that he is of some use to humanity, and that "dear +mamma" could not possibly have dusted that room without her little +helper. He brings her boots and gloves when she is preparing for a +walk, and begs to be allowed to put her slippers on her feet when she +returns home. Often when she is writing and he has grown weary of +play, the tender treble asks,-- + +"Dear Mamma, you are vewy busy. Can't I help you?" + +Of course it is an interruption, and he cannot be of the least +assistance; but is not that request better than the fretful whine of +the child who is sated with play and still demands more? + +"She missed the little _hindering_ thing." + +says one line of a heart-breaking old poem descriptive of a bereaved +mother's loneliness. + +Eugene Field strikes the same chord, until she who has laid a child +under the sod thrills with remorseful pain: + + "No bairn let hold until her gown, + Nor played upon the floore,-- + Godde's was the joy; a lyttle boy + _Ben in the way no more_!" + +Ah, impatient mother! as you put aside the affectionate officiousness +of the would-be assistant, with frown or hasty word, bethink yourself +for one moment of the possible time when, in the dreary calm of a +well-ordered house, you will hearken vainly for shrilly-sweet prattle +and pattering feet! + +There are ways in which even the toddlers can make work lighter for +the mothers. When your small daughter has finished with her toys, she +should be obliged to put them away in a box kept for that purpose. The +mother and nurse will thus be spared the bending of the back and +stooping of the knees to accomplish this light task, and the child +will enjoy the occupation, and feel very important and "grown-up" in +putting her doll to bed, and dolly's furniture, clothes, etc., in +their proper place. + +When making the beds, allow the little girl to hand you the pillows; +and, even should you stumble over her and them, sometimes, you will do +well to maintain the pious pretence that she lightens your work by +assisting in tucking in the covers, and in gathering up soiled +articles of clothing and putting them in the clothes-bag or hamper. +She will soon learn to dust chair-rungs and legs, and to wipe off the +base-board,--and do it more conscientiously than hireling Abigail. She +may pick bits of thread, string and paper from the carpet, and clean +door-handles and window-sills. One mother, when making pies, places +her four-year old daughter in a chair at the far end of the kitchen +table, and gives her a morsel of dough and a tiny pan. The little one +watches the mother and attempts to handle her portion of pastry as +mamma does. After it is kneaded, it is tenderly deposited, oftentimes +a grayish lump, in spite of carefully washed hands (for little hands +will somehow get dirty, try sedulously though you and their owner may +to prevent it), in the small tin, and it is placed in the oven with +the other pies. It serves admirably at a doll's tea-party, and the +meddlesome fingers have been kept busy, the restless mind contented, +while the housewife's work is accomplished. + +By the time your girl is ten years old, she should be equal to making +her own bed, some older person turning the mattresses for her that the +young back may not be strained by lifting, and to dust and keep her +own little room in order. Of course you will have to watch carefully, +and teach her little by little, line upon line. A model housekeeper +used to say that one should "cultivate an eye for dirt." Bear this in +mind, and cultivate your daughter's eye for dust, dirt and cobwebs. +You will find, unless she is a phenomenal exception to the majority of +young people, that she will not see when the soap-cup needs washing, +or that there are finger-smears on the doors, and "fluff" in the +corners. But with the blessed mother-gift of patience, point out to +her, again and again, the seemingly small details, the "hall-marks" +of housewifery, which, heeded, make the thrifty, neat housekeeper, +and, when neglected, the slattern. As she grows older, let her +straighten the parlors every morning, make the cake on Saturdays, and +show her that you regard her as your right-hand woman in all matters +pertaining to domestic affairs. Give her early to understand that it +is to her interest to keep her father's house looking neat, that it is +her home, and reflects credit, or the reverse, upon herself, and that +it is her duty, and should be her pleasure, to help you, her mother, +when you are overwearied and need rest. She will enjoy play as a +child, society and recreation as a girl, all the more because she has +some stated tasks. She may learn to manage the family mending by +aiding you in sorting and repairing the clothes when they come up from +the wash. When she is capable of entirely relieving you of this +burden, pay her a stated amount each week for doing it. She will glory +in the delightful feeling of independence imparted by the knowledge of +her ability to earn her own pocket-money, and take the first lesson in +that much-neglected branch of education,--knowledge of the value of +dollars and cents, and how to take care of them. + +Few children are born with a sensitive conscience regarding their +work, so the mother will, at first, find it necessary to keep an eye +on all the tasks performed by the willing, if often careless, girl. Do +not judge her too harshly. Try to recall how you felt when you were a +lazy, because a rapidly growing, girl; bear in mind that it is natural +for kittens and all young creatures to be careless and giddy, and try +to be gentle and forbearing while correcting and training her. If she +is good for anything, your care will be rewarded in years to come by +seeing her trying to do all her work in life "as mamma does." + +While it is especially expedient that the girls receive this domestic +training, the boys of the family should not be exempt from their share +of the responsibility. You need not dread that this kind of work will +make your boy unmanly or effeminate. It will rather teach him to be +more considerate of women, more appreciative of the amount that his +mother and sisters have to do, and less careless in imposing needless +labor upon them. + +Some mothers go so far as to instruct their sons in the delicate tasks +of darning stockings, and repairing rents in their own clothes. There +is a vast difference in the skill manifested by different boys. Some +seem to have a natural aptitude for dainty work while others have +fingers that are "all thumbs." One man, now a father, cherishes a +tiny cushion of worsted cross-stitch made by himself when a child but +five years of age. He is deft with his fingers, and, as the saying is, +"can turn his hand to anything." May it not be that the manipulation +then acquired still serves him? + +Another man tells laughingly how, when a boy at college, he would tie +up the hole, in his socks with a piece of string, and then hammer the +hard lump flat with a stone. He could as easily make a gown as darn a +stocking. Tales such as this fill motherly souls with intense pity for +the poor fellow so powerless to take care of his clothing, and so far +from any woman-helper. If possible, teach your boy enough of the +rudiments of plain sewing to help him in an emergency, so that he can +put on a button, or stitch up a rip, when absent from you. + +As many men as women have a natural bias for cookery, and there are +husbands not a few who insist on making all the salad eaten on their +tables. + +One branch of work in which boys are sinfully deficient is "putting +things to rights." The floor of your son's room may be littered with +books, papers, cravats, soiled collars and cuffs, but he never thinks +it his duty to pick them up and to keep his possessions in order. +About one man in a thousand is an exception to this rule, and thrice +blessed is she who weds him. It goes without saying in the household +that by some occult principle of natural adaptation, there is always a +"time" for a man to scatter abroad and for a woman to gather together. +Mother or sister attends to "the boy's things." Why has the boy any +more than the girl the right to leave his hat on the parlor table, his +gloves on the mantel, his coat on the newel-post, and his over-shoes +in the middle of the floor? They are left there, and there they remain +until some long-suffering woman puts them away. From hut to palace, +and through uncounted generations, by oral and written enactment, as +well as by tacit consent, whatever other innovations are made, the +custom holds that man can upset without fault, and his nearest of +feminine kin is blamable if she do not "pick up after him." + +Teach your son that it is his business to keep his own room in order, +and that there is no more reason why his sister should follow him up, +replacing what he has disarranged, than that he should perform the +same office for her. Inculcate in him habits of neatness. In acquiring +an "eye" for the disorder he has caused, and deftness in rectifying +it, he is taking lessons in tender consideration and growing in +intelligent sympathy for mother, sister and the wife who-is-to-be. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +CHILDREN AS BURDEN-BEARERS. + + +Those of us who are mothers would do well to read carefully and ponder +deeply St. Paul's assertion that when he was a child he spoke as a +child, and felt as a child, and thought as a child; and that when he +was a man, and not until then, he put away childish things. + +Can the same be said of the child of to-day? + +In this "bit of talk," I want to enter my protest against thrusting +upon children the care-taking thought that should not be theirs for +years to come. When the responsibility that is inseparable from every +life bears heavily upon us, we sigh for the carefree days of +childhood, but we do not hesitate to inflict upon our babies the +complaints and moans which teach them, all too soon, that life is a +hard school for us. A child must either grieve with us or become so +inured to our plaints that he pays no attention to them. In the latter +case he may be hard-hearted but he is certainly happier than if he +were exquisitely sensitive. + +"What a pretty suit of clothes you have!" said I to a four-year-old +boy. + +The momentary expression of pride gave way to one of anxiety. + +"Yes; but mamma says when these wear out she does not know how papa +will ever buy me any more clothes. I am a great expense! Oh!" with a +long-drawn sigh of wretchedness, "isn't it _awful_ to be poor?" + +The poverty-stricken father was at this time managing to dress +himself, wife and baby on an income of four thousand dollars per +annum. In her desire to make her child take proper care of his +clothes, the mother had struck terror to the little fellow's heart. +Such childish terror is genuine, and yet hard to express. The +self-control of childhood is far greater than the average father or +mother appreciates. Some children seem to have an actual dread of +communicating their fears and fancies to other people. + +A friend tells me that when she was but six years old she heard her +father say impatiently, as his wife handed him a bill: + +"I can't pay this! At the rate at which bills come in nowadays, I soon +will not have a cent left in the world. It is enough to bankrupt a +man!" + +At bedtime that night the little daughter asked her mother, with the +indifferent air children so soon learn to assume: + +"Mamma, what becomes of people when all their money is gone, and they +can't pay their bills?" + +"Sometimes, dear," answered the unsuspicious mother, "their houses and +belongings are sold to pay their bills." + +"And when people have no house, and no money, and nothing left, where +do they go? Do they starve to death?" + +"They generally go to the poorhouse, my daughter." + +"Oh, mamma!" quavered the little voice, "don't you think that is +dreadful?" + +"Very dreadful, darling! Now go to sleep." + +To sleep! How could she, with the grim doors of the home for the +county paupers yawning blackly to receive her? All through the night +was the horror upon her, and to this day she remembers the sickening +thrill that swept over her while playing with a little friend, when +the thought occurred: + +"If this girl's mother knew that we were going to the poorhouse, she +would not let her play with me." + +Little by little the impression wore off, aided in the dissipation by +the sight of numerous rolls of bills which papa occasionally drew from +his pocket. But not once in all that time did the child relax the +strict guard set upon her lips, and sob out her fear to her mother. +She does not now know why she did not do it, except that she could +not. + +An otherwise judicious father talks over all his business difficulties +with his seven-year-old son. The grown man does not know what a strain +the anxiety and uncertainty of his father's ventures are to the embryo +financier. Not long ago the father announced to him: + +"Well, Harold, that man I was telling you of has failed--lost his +money--and one thousand dollars of mine have gone with it." + +The boy's white, set face would have alarmed a more observant man. + +"Oh, papa! what shall we do!" + +"Get along somehow, my boy!" was the unsatisfactory answer. + +Then, as the boy sadly and slowly left the room, the man to whom one +thousand dollars were no more than one dime to this anxious child, +explained, laughingly, to a friend, that "that little fellow was +really wonderful; he understood business, and was as much interested +in it as a man of forty could be." + +We fathers and mothers have no right to make our children old before +their time. Each age has its own trials, which are as great as any one +person should bear. We know that the troubles that come to our babies +are only baby troubles, but they are as large to them as our griefs +are to us. A promised drive, which does not "materialize," proves as +great a disappointment to your tiny girl as the unfulfilled promise of +a week in the country would to you, her sensible mother. Of course our +children must learn to bear their trials. My plea is that they may not +be forced to bear our anxieties also. If a thing is an annoyance to +you, it will be an agony to your little child, who has not a tenth of +your experience, philosophy and knowledge of life. + +There is something cowardly and weak in the man or woman who has so +little self-control that he or she must press a child's tender +shoulders into service in bearing burdens. Teach your children to be +careful, teach them prudence and economy, but let them be taught as +children. + +The forcing of a child's sympathies sometimes produces a hardening +effect, as in the case of a small boy whose mother was one of the +sickly-sentimental sort. She had drawn too often upon her child's +sensibilities. + +"Charlie," she said, plaintively, to her youngest boy, "what would you +do if poor mamma were to get very sick?" + +"Send for the doctor." + +"But, Charlie, suppose poor, dear mamma should die! Then, what would +you do?" + +"I'd go to the funeral!" was the cheerful response. + +To my mind this mother had the son ordained for her from the beginning +of the world. + +Many boys are all love and sympathy for their mothers. Mamma appeals +to all that is tender and chivalrous in the nature of the man that is +to be. The maternal tenderness ought to be too strong to impose upon +this sacred feeling. + +Perhaps one of the prettiest of Bunner's "Airs from Arcady" is that +entitled, "In School Hours," in which he thus describes the woe of the +thirteen-year-old girl when she receives the cruel letter from the boy +of her admiration. The poet tells us this sorrow "were tragic at +thirty," and asks, "Why is it trivial at thirteen!" + + "Trivial! what shall eclipse + The pain of our childish woes? + The rose-bud pales its lips + When a very small zephyr blows. + You smile, O Dian bland, + If Endymion's glance is cold: + But Despair seems close at hand + To that hapless thirteen-year old!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +OUR YOUNG PERSON. + + +I well remember a girl's tearful appeal to me when she was stigmatized +and reproved for her "giddy youth!" "It is not my fault that I was +born young! And I am not responsible for the fact that I entered upon +existence seventeen, instead of seventy, years ago. At all events, it +was not a sin even if I was guilty of such a folly!" + +Perhaps we older people are too prone to forget that youth is not a +sin to be condemned, or even a folly to be sneered at. "Wad some power +the giftie gie us" to remember that we were not always cool-headed, +clear-seeing and middle-aged! Trouble and responsibility come so soon +to all, that we err in forcing young heads to bow, and strong +shoulders to bend, beneath a load which should not be laid upon them +for many years. As we advance in age, our weaknesses and temptations +change, and no longer take the form of heedlessness, intolerance, +extravagance, and most trying of all to the critical and dignified +observer,--freshness. + +We may describe this last-named quality somewhat after the fashion of +the little boy who defined salt as "What makes potatoes taste bad +when they don't put any on 'em!" + +So "freshness" is that which makes youth delightful by its absence. + +Unfortunately, it is almost inseparable from this period, and while +there are girls, and even boys, in whom the offending quality is +nearly, if not entirely, lacking, they are almost as the red herring +of the wood, and the strawberry of the sea, in nursery rhyme. + +Freshness takes many and varied forms, the most common being that of +self-conceit and the desire to appear original and eccentric in +feelings, moods, likes and dislikes. Like the fellows of the club of +which Bertie, in "The Henrietta," was an illustrious member, the +average boy winks, nods, looks wise and "makes the other fellows think +that he is a Harry of a fellow,--but he isn't!" + +The desire to be considered worldly-wise--"tough"--is rampant in the +masculine mind between the ages of fifteen and twenty. The boy who has +been to a strict preparatory boarding-school and is just entering upon +his college course, whose theatre-goings have been limited to the +"shows" to which his father has given him tickets, or to which he has +escorted his mother or sisters, and whose wildest dissipations have +consisted in a surreptitious cigarette and glass of beer, neither of +which he enjoyed, but both of which he pretended to revel in for the +sake of being "mannish,"--will talk knowingly of "the latest +soubrette," "a jolly little ballet-dancer," "the wicked ways of this +world," and "the dens of iniquity in our large cities." Dickens tells +us that "when Mr. Feeder spoke of the dark mysteries of London, and +told Mr. Toots that he was going to observe it himself closely in all +its ramifications in the approaching holidays, and for that purpose +had made arrangements to board with two old maiden aunts at Peckham, +Paul regarded him as if he were the hero of some book of travel or +wild adventure, and was almost afraid of such a slashing person." + +Why it is considered manly to be "tough" is one of the unsolved +mysteries of the boyish mind. Any uneducated, weak fool can go wrong. +It takes a man to be strong enough to keep himself pure and good. + +Another "fresh" characteristic of this age is the pretence of doubt. A +fellow under twenty-one is likely to have doubts, to find articles in +the creed of his church "to which he cannot agree. That kind of thing +is well enough for women and children, but for a man of the +world,"--and then follows an expressive pause, accompanied by a shrug +of the shoulders and lift of the brows. + +With a girl this trying age is often given over to sentimental musings +and blues. She is convinced that nobody understands her, her mother +least of all, that she is too sensitive for this harsh world, that she +will never receive the love and consideration due her. Cynicism +becomes her main characteristic, and she bitterly sneers at friendship +and gratitude, declaring that true, disinterested affection exists +only in the imagination. Is it any wonder that mothers sometimes +become discouraged? Poor mothers! whose combined comfort and distress +is the knowledge that the time is fast approaching when their boys and +girls will blush for shame at the remembrance of their "salad days, +when they were green in judgment." + +Parents have need of vast patience, and let them, before uttering +condemnation, carefully consider if they themselves are not a little +to blame for the state of their children's minds; if over-indulgence +and unwise consideration have not had much to do with the trouble. One +excellent woman has made of her son an insufferable boor by constantly +deferring to him, no matter in what company, and by allowing him to +see that she considers his very ordinary intellect far above the +average. In a parlor full of educated men and women she went out of +her way to tell what remarkable views "Charlie" had upon certain +religious subjects, and, after attracting the attention of the +assembled company, called upon "Charlie" to give vent to his +sentiments that all present might observe how original they were. +Whereupon the hulk of a son, consequential and patronizing, discoursed +bunglingly, and at length, on his opinions and beliefs, until he was +inflated to speechlessness by conceit, and his hearers disgusted into +responsive silence. + +If your girl is clever, do not tell her so, or repeat to others in her +presence her bright observations. But, on the other hand, do not snub +her, or allow her to feel that her intellect is of an inferior order. +The best way to make a fool of the Young Person is to tell him that he +is a fool. Stimulate your child by all the love and appreciation at +your command, but let it be intelligent appreciation, not blind +admiration or prejudiced disapproval. Do you recollect how you felt +and dreamed and gushed when you were a girl, the pages of sentimental +twaddle (as you now call it) which you confided to the diary which you +burned in disgust at twenty-one? Do you remember how genuine your +distresses then seemed? You can smile at the girl you once were, but +still you find it in your heart to pity her, poor, silly child, +foolishly sobbing late into the night over some broken friendship or +imaginary heart-trouble. Perhaps she had no mother to whom to go, or +perhaps her mother "did not understand." See that you do not make the +same mistake, but, while you recognize the folly of the trouble, think +of the heartache back of it all. When your girl was a tiny child, you +petted and comforted her as she wailed over her broken dolly. Was that +grief so much more sensible than this, or do you love her less now? +When your four-year-old boy came to you with his stories of what he +would do when he was "a great big man," you drew him close to you and +encouraged him to "talk it all out." Now, when he is a head taller +than you, and tells you of his hopes and aspirations, you sigh that +"boys are so fresh and visionary!" + +It is not necessary to condone or to condemn all. What would you say +to the gardener who let your choice young vines run in straggling +lines all over the ground and in all directions,--or who ruthlessly +cut off all the stalks within an inch of the roots? Young people need +training, encouragement and urging in some directions, repression and +pruning in others. Above all, they need tender forbearance. + +Another trying feature of the Young Person is his wholesale +intolerance of everything and everybody. Only himself and perhaps one +or two of his own friends escape his censure. These being covered +with the mantle of his approbation, are beyond criticism. This habit +of uncharitableness is such an odious one that our boy or girl should +avoid it carefully. + +If you would acquire the custom of saying no evil, it is advisable to +guard against thinking it. Difficult as it may seem, it is quite +possible to put such a guard upon the mind as to accustom it to look +on the best side of persons and things. Nobody is wholly bad, or, at +least, few people are so entirely given over to disagreeable traits as +the Young Person would lead us to think. Only a few days ago a young +man was speaking in my presence of another fellow, who was, as far as +I know, a respectable, well-bred boy. + +"Oh!" said the Young Person, when his name was mentioned, "he is no +good." + +"Why not?" queried I. "Is he bad?" + +"He is too much of a fool to be bad." + +"Is he such a fool? I thought he was considered rather bright?" + +"Well, he thinks himself awfully bright. He is a regular donkey." + +"Are his manners disagreeable?" + +"No-o-o, I don't know that they are. In fact, I believe he prides +himself on the reputation he has acquired for gentlemanliness." + +"Then, what is so disagreeable about him?" + +"Perhaps," dryly suggested the father of the Young Person, "he is not +particularly fond of you, and that it why you disapprove of him." + +"No, sir!" was the indignant rejoinder, "that is not it. To be sure, +he never troubles himself to pay me any marked attention. Nor do I +care to have him do so. He is a low fellow." + +Deny it as he might, the reason my young friend disliked the "low +fellow" was because the tiny thorn of neglect had wounded his vanity +and pricked and rankled into a fester. This is human nature, but as we +advance in years, we appreciate that people may be really excellent in +many respects, and yet have no great fondness for us. Youth still has +much to learn. + +Ten girls whom I know formed a society for the repression of unkind +criticism. The members pledged themselves to try, as far as in them +lay, to speak kindly of people when it was possible for them to do so, +and when impossible to say nothing. At first it was hard, for +self-conceit would intrude, and it is hard for one girl to praise +another who dislikes her. Little by little the tiny seed of effort +grew into a habit of kindly speech. + +What volumes it argues for a woman's gentle ladyhood and Christianity +when it can truthfully be said of her, "She never speaks uncharitably +of anybody!" + +Let us older people set an example of tolerance and charitable speech. +Too often our children are but reproductions, perhaps somewhat highly +colored, of ourselves, our virtues, and our faults. And this is +especially true of the mothers. John Jarndyce gives us a word of +encouragement when he says-- + + "I think it must somewhere be written that the virtues of the + mothers shall occasionally be visited upon the children, as + well as the sins of the father." + +Such being the case, let us children of a larger growth show such +tact, unselfishness and tender charity, that our children, seeing +these virtues, may copy them, and thereby aid in removing the +disagreeable traits of, at least, our Young Persons. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +OUR BOY. + + +The following is a _bona fide_ letter. It is written in such genuine +earnest, and so clearly voices the sentiments of many young men of the +present day, that I am glad to have an opportunity to answer it. + +1. Why should I, a fast-growing, hard-working youth of eighteen, who +go every morning, four miles by street-car, to my office, and the same +back at night, often so weary and faint as to be hardly able to sit, +not to say stand, be obliged to give up my seat to any flighty, flashy +girl who has come down-town to shop, or frolic, or do nothing? Isn't +she as able to "swing corners" holding on to a strap as I? and to hold +her own perpendicular in the aisle? + +2. Why isn't it as rude for her and her companions to giggle and whisper +and stare, the objects of amusement being her fellow-passengers, as it +would be for me and my fellows? Yet we would be "roughs"--and she and +her crew must be "treated with the deference due the gentler sex." And +why am I a boor if I do not give her my seat, while she is considered a +lady if she takes it without thanking me? + +3. Are girls, take them as a rule, as well-bred as boys? + +Judging by appearances, it would seem that many men share in the +feeling expressed in your first query. I am not a "flighty, flashy +girl," but I crossed the city the other night in a horse-car in which +there were twenty men and two women--one of them being myself. I +stood, while the score of men sat and lounged comfortably behind their +newspapers. They were tired after a hard day's work, and would have +been wearied still more by standing. A well woman was worn out and a +delicate woman would have been made ill, by this exertion. + +My dear boy! let me ask you one question. Why should you, no matter +how tired you are, spring eagerly forward to prevent your sister from +lifting a piece of furniture, or carrying a trunk upstairs? Why not +let her do it? I can imagine your look of indignant surprise. "Why? +because she is a woman! It would nearly kill her!" Exactly so; but you +will swing the burden on your broad, strong shoulders, bear it to its +destination, and the next minute run lightly down-stairs,--perhaps, as +you would say, "a little winded," but not one whit strained in nerve +or muscle. + +There lies the difference. The good Lord who made us women had His own +excellent reason for making us physically weaker than men. Perhaps +because, had we their strength, we would be too ambitious. However +that may be, men, as the stronger sex, should help us in our weakness. +Standing in the horse-car that is jostling over a rough track, holding +on with up-stretched arm to a strap and "swinging corners" during a +two-mile ride, would do more harm to a girl of your own age than you +would suffer were you to stand while making a twenty-mile trip. For +humanity's sake, then, if your gallantry does not prompt you to make +sacrifice, do not allow any woman, old or young, to "hold her +perpendicular in the aisle" when you can offer her a seat and while +you have a pair of capable legs upon which to depend for support. + +A true gentleman is always unselfish, be he old or young, rested or +weary; and such being the case, the foreign day-laborer, in blue +blouse and hob-nailed boots, who rises and gives a lady his place in +car or omnibus, is the superior of the several-times-a-millionaire, in +finest broadcloth, spotless linen, patent leathers and silk hat, who +sits still, taking refuge behind his newspaper, in which he is +seemingly so deeply absorbed as to be blind to the fact that a woman, +old enough to be his mother, stands near him. With one gentlemanliness +is instinctive, with the other it is, like his largest diamond stud, +worn for show, and even then is a little "off color." I hope it is +hardly necessary to remind you that true courtesy does not stay to +distinguish between a rich or a poor woman, or to notice whether she +is a pretty young girl, fashionably attired, or a decrepit laundress +taking home the week's wash. She is a woman! That should be sufficient +to arouse your manliness. + +This is the truthful reply to query No. 1. Not a pleasant answer +perhaps, but an honest one. To make the advice more palatable, take +it with a plentiful seasoning of gratitude for the gift of physical +strength which makes you a man. + +And now for No. 2. Here you are right, and your suggestion has had my +serious consideration. Possibly, thoughtlessness may account for the +foolish "whispering and giggling" you mention, but stares and amused +comments upon fellow-passengers are nothing less than acts of +rudeness, be they perpetrated by boy or girl. But two wrongs never yet +made a right, and because a girl is discourteous is no reason why you +should put yourself on the same footing with her, and fail to observe +towards her "the deference due" all women. If you are in a car with a +profane drunkard, you do not copy his actions, or, if obliged to +address him, adopt his style of language. + +The glaring defect in the manners and voice of the American girl is +that she is "loud." German Gretchen or Irish Bridget is more likely to +speak softly in public than her rich young mistress. It is often a +shock to the observer when sweet sixteen seated opposite him in the +horse-car, begins conversation with her companion. Her face is gentle, +her whole mien refined,--but, her voice! She talks loudly and laughs +constantly. One beautiful woman whom I have met,--wealthy and +well-educated, always reminds me of a peacock. You doubtless have seen +and heard peafowls often enough to understand the comparison. The +graceful motion and gorgeous plumage demand our admiration, until the +creature, becoming accustomed to our presence, raises his voice in a +piercing call, something between a hoot and a shriek, which causes us +to cover our ears. After such an experience, we turn with relief to +the sober hens who are contented to cluck peacefully through life, +reserving their cackling until they have done something of which to +boast, and wish to inform us that the egg they have laid is at our +disposal. + +As a rule the girl who is _prononcee_ in a public conveyance is not +well-bred, and she who laughs loudly and talks noisily, meanwhile +passing comments on those persons who are so unfortunate as to be her +traveling companions, has no claim to the much-abused title of "lady." +But you can hardly compare your manners and those of your friends with +the deportment of low-born, ill-bred girls. I fancy that you would +find that everyone would pronounce sentence as severe upon them as +upon you, were your actions the same. + +I have been amazed before this at what I have been told, and at what I +have myself noticed, of the failure of women to thank men who rise and +offer them seats. + +It would seem incredible that any person should so far neglect all +semblance of civility as to accept a place thus offered as a matter of +course. It is a kindness on the part of a man, and should always be +met by some acknowledgment. If, when you rise, and lifting your hat, +resign your place to a woman, and she, without a word, accepts it as +her due, your only consolation will be to fall back on the comforting +thought that you have behaved like a gentleman, and that any +discourtesy of hers cannot detract from the merit of your action. You +did not do it for the thanks you might receive, but because it is +right. It is not pessimistic to assert that all through life, we are +working on this principle--not that we may receive the credit for what +we do, but doing good for the good's sake. Do not be so rash as to say +bitterly--"So much for sacrificing my own comfort!" "Catch me giving a +woman my seat again!" and those other foolish, because angry, things +which a vexed boy is tempted to say under such circumstances. Continue +in the good way, hoping that "next time" you may have the pleasure of +doing a favor to a lady who has the breeding to appreciate and be +grateful for an act of courtesy. + +Your third question is one difficult to answer. Are girls as well bred +as boys--Yes--and no! Their training lies along different lines. A +few days ago I was talking with a young man who had a grievance. A +girl of his acquaintance had, the night before, been at a reception +which he had also attended. Feeling a little weary she retired to a +comfortable corner of the room, and sat there during the entire +evening. She "did not feel like dancing," and told her hostess "she +would rather sit still." My young friend had a severe headache, but, +although suffering, his appreciation of _les convenances_ would not +allow him to sit down in a secluded niche for fifteen minutes, during +the entire evening. His "grievance" was that had he done this he would +have been voted a boor, while the girl's action was condoned by +hostess and guests. One thing must always be considered--namely, that +a woman's part is, in many points of etiquette, passive. It is the man +who takes the initiative, and who is made such a prominent figure that +all eyes are drawn to him. Have you ever noticed it? Man proposes, +woman accepts. Man stands, woman remains seated. Man lifts his hat, +woman merely bows. Man acts as escort, woman as the escorted. So, when +a man is careless or thoughtless, it is all the more evident. For this +reason, begin as a boy, to observe all the small, sweet courtesies of +life. I often wish there were any one point in which a woman could +show her genuine ladyhood as a man displays his gentlehood by the +management of his hat,--raising it entirely from the head on meeting a +woman, lifting it when the lady with whom he is walking bows to an +acquaintance, or when his man-companion meets a friend, baring his +head on meeting, parting from, or kissing mother, sister or wife. +These, with other points, such as rising when a woman enters the room, +and remaining standing until she is seated, giving her the precedence +in passing in or out of a door, and picking up the handkerchief or +glove she lets fall--are sure indices of the gentleman, or, by their +absence, mark the boor. + +But our girl should not think that she can afford to overlook the acts +of tactful courtesy which are her duty as well as her brother's. +Prominent among these she should place the deference due those who are +older than herself. Her temptation is often to exercise a patronizing +toleration toward her elders, and, while she is not actually +disrespectful, she still has the air of a very superior young being +holding converse with a person who has the advantage merely in the +accident of years. Did she realize how ridiculous these very youthful, +foolish manners are, she would blush for herself. She will--when she +has attained the age of discretion. + +Another of our girls' mistakes is that of imagining that brusqueness +and pertness are wit. There is no other error more common with girls +from fifteen to eighteen; they generally choose a boy as the butt of +their sarcastic remarks--and, to their shame be it said, they +frequently select a lad who is too courteous to retort in kind. + +But these faults in boy and girl alike are evidences of a "freshness" +which wears off as the years roll on, as the green husk, when touched +by the frost, falls away, leaving exposed the glossy brown shell +enclosing the ripe, sweet kernel of the nut. + +If this answer to your letter reads like a sermon, pardon one who is +interested in young people, and who, well remembering when she was +young herself, would fain hold out a helping hand to those who are +stumbling on in the path she trod in years gone by. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THAT SPOILED CHILD. + + +I was the other day one of many passengers in a railroad train in +which a small girl of four or five years of age was making a journey, +accompanied by her mother and an aunt. The child was beautiful, with a +mass of golden curls. Her velvet coat and the felt hat trimmed +elaborately with ostrich plumes were faultless in their style; her +behavior would compare unfavorably with the manners of a young +Comanche Indian. She insisted upon standing in the centre of the +aisle, where she effectually blocked all passage, and, as the train +was going rapidly, ran a great risk of being thrown violently against +the seats. When remonstrated with by her guardians, she slapped her +aunt full in the face, pulled herself free from her mother's +restraining grasp, and, in a frenzy of rage, threw herself down right +across the aisle. There she lay for a full half hour. When her mother +would have raised her to her feet she uttered shriek after shriek, +until her fellow-travelers' ears rang. After this triumph of young +America over the rule and command of tyrannizing mamma, the innocent +babe was allowed to remain prostrate in her chosen resting-place, +while brakemen, conductor and passengers stepped gingerly over the +recumbent form. She varied the monotony of the situation by occasional +wrathful kicks in the direction of her mother or at some would-be +passer-by. + +"It is best to let sleeping dogs lie," sighed the mother of this +prodigy to her sister. "When she gets one of these attacks (and she +has them quite often) I just leave her alone until she becomes +ashamed of it. She can't bear to be crossed in anything." + +When I stepped from the train at my destination the humiliation for +which her attendants longed was still a stranger to the willful child. + +Trouble-fearing persons have a belief to the effect that it is, in the +long run, easier to let a child have his own sweet way until he has +attained the age of discretion,--say at fourteen or fifteen +years,--when his innate sense of propriety will convince him of the +error of his ways. Such a theorist was a dear old gentleman who, many +years ago, remonstrated with me upon the pains and time I spent in +training my first born. The children of this aged saint had been +reared according to the old-fashioned notion, but when they had babies +of their own they departed from it, and the rising generation had full +and free sway. Their grandparent, albeit frequently the victim of +their pranks, loved them dearly. He now assured me that-- + +"While they are regular little barbarians, my dear, still they have +all that freedom and wild liberty which should accompany childhood. +They eat when and what they please, go to bed when they feel like it, +rise early or late as the whim seizes them, and know no prescribed +rules for diet and deportment. But they come of good stock and will +turn out all right." + +They did come of good, honest parents, and this may have been what saved +their moral, while their physical being has suffered from the course +pursued during their infancy and early youth. There were six children; +now there are four. One died when a mere baby from cold contracted from +running about the house in winter weather in her bare feet. She was so +fond of doing this that her mother could not bear to put shoes and +stockings on the dear little tot. The other, a sweet, affectionate boy, +suffered at regular intervals during the fifteen years of his life from +acute indigestion. Directly after one of these attacks, he, as was his +habit, followed the cravings of an undisciplined appetite, and attended, +late at night, a pea-nut-and-candy supper, almost immediately after +which he was taken violently ill and died in three days. The four +remaining children do not, all told, possess enough constitution to make +one strong man. They are all delicate and constant sufferers. + +In this case judicious care might have averted the above-mentioned +evils. Would the game have been worth the candle? + +This is a question which parents cannot afford to disregard. It is +expedient for them to consider seriously whether or not the stock on +both sides of the family, of which their children come, is so good as +to warrant neglect or to justify over-indulgence. + +Our mother-tongue does not offer us a phrase by which we may express +what we mean by _l'enfant terrible_. But our father-land produces many +living examples which may serve as translations of the French words. +Such an one was the small boy who, while eagerly devouring grapes, +threw the skins, one after another, into the lap of my new light silk +gown. His mother entered a smilingly gentle protest in the form of-- + +"Oh, Frankie dear! do you think it is pretty to do that?" to which he +paid as much attention as to my look of distress. The reader who +believes in "lending a hand" in righting the minor evils of society +must have more temerity and a larger share of what the boy of the +period denominates "nerve" than I possess, if she interferes with a +child while in the presence of the mother. It is as unsafe as the +proverbial act of inserting the digits between the bark and the tree. +It is, moreover, a liberty which I should never permit the dearest +friend to take. In fact, so strong is my feeling on this subject, that +I should have allowed "Frankie dear" to make a fruit-plate and +finger-bowl of the shimmering folds of my gown rather than utter a +feeble objection before his doting mamma. + +The practice of spoiling a child is unjust to the little one and to +the parent. The latter suffers tenfold more than if she, day by day, +inculcated the line-upon-line, protest-upon-protest system. That she +does not do this is sometimes due to mistaken kindness, but oftener to +self-indulgence or dread of disagreeable scenes, that brings a harvest +of misery as surely as he who sows the wind will reap the whirlwind. + +A spoiled child is an undutiful child. This must be true. The constant +humoring and considering of one's whims will, in course of time, +produce a stunted, warped and essentially selfish character, that +considers the claims of gratitude and affection as _nil_ compared with +the furtherance of personal aims and desires. Never having learned +self-control or obedience, parents and their timid remonstrances must +go to the wall before the passions or longings which these same +parents in days gone by have fostered. "Only mother" or "nobody but +father" are phrases that are so frequent as to become habitual, while +the "you yourself used to let me do this or that" is the burden of +many an excuse for misdemeanors. And after all the years of parental +indulgence, what is your reward? The spring is gone from your own +being, while your children will not let you live your life over again +in theirs. + +We all recall AEsop's fable of the young man about to be executed, who +begged on the scaffold for a last word with his mother, and when the +wish was granted, stooped to her and bit off the tip of her ear, that +the pain and disfigurement might serve as a constant reminder of the +hatred he felt for the over-indulgence and lack of discipline which +had brought him to this shameful death. The hurt which the mother's +heart feels at the thought of causing her child's downfall is pain too +great to be endured. + +The letting-alone principle is a short-sighted one. Even in infancy a +spoiled child may make such a nuisance of himself as to produce a +disagreeable impression upon all who know him,--an impression which it +takes many years of model behavior to eradicate. It is actual cruelty +to throw upon the child the work the parent should have performed. It +is easy to train the growing plant, but after the bark is tough and +the fibre strong it is a terrible strain upon grain and vitality to +bend it in a direction to which it is unaccustomed. + +Much of the insubordination to be found in the children of the present +day is due to the growing habit of entrusting the little ones to +servants whose own wills and tempers are uncontrolled and untrained. A +child knows that his nurse has no right to insist upon obedience, and +he takes advantage of the knowledge until he is a small tyrant who is +conscious of no law beyond that of his own inclinations. + +The prime rule in the training of children should be implicit +obedience. The child is happier for knowing that when a command or +prohibition is stated there is no appeal from the sentence, and that +coaxing avails naught. Uncertainty is as trying to small men and women +as to us who are more advanced in the school of life. + +So much depends upon this great principle of obedience, that it is +marvelous that parents ever disregard it. I have known in my own +experience three cases in which it was impossible to make a child take +medicine, and death has followed in consequence. One of the most +painful recollections I have is of seeing a child six years old forced +to swallow a febrifuge that was not unpalatable in itself. The mother, +father, and nurse held the struggling boy, while the physician pried +open the set teeth and poured the liquid down his throat. Under these +circumstances it is probable that the remedy proved worse than the +disease. + +I have not space to do more than touch upon the great influence of +early training on the future life. All my days I have been thankful +for the gentle but firm hand that, as a child, taught me moral +courage, self-denial and submission. The temptations of life have been +more easily resisted, the trials more lightly borne, because of the +years in which I was in training for the race set before me. We do not +want to enter our children on the course as unbroken, "soft" and wild +colts, whose spirits must be crushed before they will submit to the +work assigned them. They may be young, yet strong; spirited, yet +gentle; patient, yet resolute. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +GETTING ALONG IN YEARS. + + +"Does your husband think a full beard becoming to him?" asked I of a +young wife. + +Her twenty-three-year-old lord, whose good-looking face had been +adorned and made positively handsome by a sweeping brown moustache, +had, since our last meeting, "raised" an uneven crop of reddish +whiskers that shortened a face somewhat too round, and altogether +vulgarized what had been refined. + +"No, indeed! He knows, as I do, that it disfigures him. It is a +business necessity to which he sacrificed vanity. The appearance of +maturity carries weight in the commercial world. His beard adds ten +years to his real age." + +Being in an audience collected to hear an eminent clergyman last +summer, I heard an astonished gasp behind me, as the orator arose: + +"Why he has shaved off his beard! How like a round oily man of God he +looks!" + +"True," said another, "but fifteen years younger. He is getting along +in years, you see, and wants to hide the fact." + +The last speaker sat opposite to me at the hotel table that day, and +in discussing the leader of the morning service, repeated the phrase +that had jarred upon my ear. + +"It is fatal to a clergyman's popularity and to a woman's hopes to be +suspected of getting along in years." + +I told the story of my bearded youth and asked: + +"Where then is the safe ground? When is it altogether reputable for +one to declare his real age?" + +"Oh, anywhere from thirty to forty-five! Before and after that term +life can hardly be said to be worth the living." + +I smiled, as the rattler meant I should. But the words have stayed by +me, the more persistently that observation bears me out in the +suspicion that the merry speaker only uttered the thought of many +others. + +"The years of man's life are three-score-and-ten," says the Word of +Him who made man and knew what was in man. The wearer of a body that, +with tolerably good treatment ought to last for seventy years, must +then, according to popular judgment, spend nearly half of that time in +learning how to play his part in the world, barely a fifth in carrying +out God's designs in and for him, and then remain for a quarter of a +century a cumberer of the home and earth. Such waste of strength, time +and accumulated capital would be cried out upon as wretched +mismanagement were the scheme of human devising. + +The French proverb that "a woman" (and presumably a man) "is just as +old as she chooses to be," comes so much nearer what I believe was our +Creator's wise and merciful purpose in giving us life, that I turn +thankfully and hopefully to this side of the subject. + +The best way to avoid growing old is not to be afraid of getting along +in years. To come down to "hard pan"--whence originates this +unwholesome dread of ripeness and maturity? It surely is not a fear of +death that makes us blanch and shrink back at the oft-recurring +mile-stones in the journey of life that brings all of us nearer the +goal towards which we are bound. + +I once heard a young woman say, seriously: + +"I hope that when I am forty-five, I may quietly die. I do not dread +death, but I do shudder at the idea of being laid on the shelf." + +I do not mean to be severe when I assert that, nine times out of ten, +it is the victim's own fault that she is pushed out of the way, or, as +our slangy youth of to-day put it, "is not in it." It is your business +and mine to _be_ in it, heart, soul, and body, and to keep our places +there by every effort in our power. A fear of that which is high, or +mental or physical inertia, or, to be less euphemistic and more exact, +laziness--should not deter us. This object is not to be accomplished +by adopting juvenile dress and kittenish ways. We should beautify old +age, not accentuate it by artificial means. When your roadster, +advanced in years and woefully stiff in the joints, makes a lame +attempt to imitate a gamboling colt, and feebly elevates his hind +legs, and pretends to shy at a piece of paper in the road, you smile +with contemptuous amusement and say: + +"The old fool is in his dotage!" + +But if he keeps on steadily to his work, doing the best he can, your +comment is sure to be somewhat after this fashion: + +"This is truly a wonderful horse! He is just as good as on the day I +bought him, fifteen years ago!" + +Let us determine to face the situation, when it is necessary, calmly +and sensibly. For, unlike the aforesaid horse, we do not expect to be +knocked on the head with a club, or quietly chloroformed out of +existence at a stated period. We would do well to follow our +optimistic principles, and look at the many benefits which, in the +words of the old catechism, "do accompany and flow from" this state. +If you have lived well, fifty is better than thirty, as the +sun-and-frost-kissed (not bitten) Catawba grape is better than the +tiny green sphere of June, and as maturity is nearer perfection than +crude youth. The tedious routine of the life-school, the hours spent +in acquiring knowledge for which you had no immediate use, are past. +The wisdom that must come with time and experience is yours. + +Another of the great advantages in being near the top of the mountain +is that you can speak from superior knowledge words of comfort and +encouragement to those beneath you, who are still toiling over the +path you have trod. Such help from you who have "been there," and have +now successfully passed the most trying places, will do more to keep +up others' hearts than many sermons preached by one who knows it all +only in theory. + +Since old age is inevitable, do not let us try to pretend that it is +not, and let us never act as if there were any hope of shunning it. +On the other hand, neither should we wish that it were possible for us +to evade it. It is just as much of a God-ordained period as youth, and +we ought to grow old in the manner in which God meant we should. He +meant us to keep heart and soul young by constant occupation and by +unselfish interest in the affairs of others. + +I know one woman, past the fifties, who is, the young people declare, +"much more fun than any girl." Their enjoyments are hers, and she +laughs as heartily over their fun, sympathizes as sincerely in their +disappointments, as if she were thirty years younger than she is. In +fact, her sympathy is more genuine, for her age puts her completely +beyond the faintest suspicion of rivalry, and it is easier to tell of +one's defeats and triumphs when the listener is too far along in years +to be jealous or envious. + +It should not be necessary for us to call courage into use to +reconcile us to our lost youth. Plain common sense is all that is +requisite. We have gained much on life in the past century. As science +has taught us how to ward off death, so has it instructed us in the +art of preserving youth far beyond middle age. Over my fireplace +hangs a portrait of my grandmother, one of the loveliest women of her +time. + +She died at the age of fifty, and in it she wears a mob-cap and an old +woman's gown. For years before her death, she felt that she belonged +to the past generation, did not join in the younger people's +occupations, and claimed her place in the chimney-corner. In her day +the "dead-line" in a man's life was drawn at fifty. Now we know that +to be out of all reason. If the years of a man's life are +three-score-and-ten let us determine to move the dead-line on to +seventy, and claim that we are not old until we have reached that +point. And if, by reason of strength we can hold on to four-score, let +us push it on the ten years farther, and, taking courage, thank God +for this new lease of life. + +We do not belong to the past generation, but to the acting, working, +living present. Our juniors are the rising generation, and no one +belongs to the past except those who have laid aside the burden of +life--light to some, wearisome to others--forever. They are the only +ones who have any excuse for stepping out of the ranks. They have done +so by their Captain's order. Let us, who remain, stand bravely in our +places, that we may be present or accounted for when the roll-call +containing our names is read. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +TRUTH-TELLING. + + +"Conformity to fact or reality. Exact accordance with that which is, +has been, or shall be." + +I looked up Webster's definition of Truth yesterday, after overhearing +a conversation between two girls in the horse-car. They spoke so +loudly that not to hear would have been an impossibility. My attention +was first attracted to them by the name of a friend. + +"Did you know of Mr. B.'s illness?" asked the younger and more +pronounced colloquist. + +"Yes," responded the other; "I know he has had pneumonia, but I +understand that he is now convalescent." + +"Oh, then, you haven't heard the latest!" + +The discovery of her companion's ignorance acted upon the girl like +magic. She became vivacious, and beamed with the glow of satisfaction +kindled by the privilege of being the first to relate a morsel of +news. + +"Well, my dear! Mamma and I were calling there, and while I was +talking to Miss B., I heard Mrs. B. tell my mother this awful thing. +You know Mr. B.'s sister is a trained nurse (I never did believe in +trained nurses!) and when he was taken so ill they sent for her to +come and take care of him. She got along tolerably well until a few +days ago when the doctor prescribed quinine for Mr. B. By mistake, she +gave him ten grains of morphine." + +"What!" + +"Yes, my dear, she did! It seems like an immense quantity, but, as I +wanted to be accurate (I always say that accuracy is a Christian +duty), I asked Miss B. how many grains her father took, and she said +'Ten!' Well! the poor victim slept thirty hours, and they were so +frightened that they sent for the doctor. He said that, fortunately, +no harm was done, but that it was an unpardonable piece of +carelessness. They discharged the nurse forthwith. She ought to have +been arrested and punished,--not turned loose upon a confiding +community." + +"Yet you say she is his own sister?" + +"Yes, indeed! and the family have always been perfectly devoted to +her! But they have sent her to the right-about now. It is too bad! A +family row is such an unfortunate thing. They may be thankful not to +have a murder-case to deal with!" + +Strangely enough, I was _en route_ for the house of my friend, Mrs. +B., and as the car, at this juncture, crossed the street on which she +lived, I motioned to the conductor to ring the bell, and alighted +before hearing more of that remarkable tale. Being acquainted with the +whole matter as it actually occurred, I was amused and indignant, as +well as curious, to learn how this girl had received the wretchedly +garbled version of an affair, the facts of which were these: + +When Mr. B. was suddenly prostrated by an alarming attack of +pneumonia, his sister, a noble woman who had taken up as her life-work +the duties of a trained nurse in a Boston hospital, was telegraphed +for. As she had a serious case in charge, it was impossible to obey +the summons, and a New York nurse was engaged. Mr. B.'s physician had, +early in his illness, prepared some powders, each containing a minute +portion of morphine, and several had been administered to the patient. +Of late, he had taken five grains of quinine each morning. A few days +before the above mentioned harangue, the doctor ordered the nurse to +double the usual dose of quinine. She, carelessly, or misunderstanding +the directions, gave two of the morphine powders. The dose was not +large enough to cause more serious injury than throwing the patient +into a long and heavy sleep, and frightening his family. The doctor, +who had engaged the nurse, discharged her, as Mr. B. was so far +improved as to need only such care as his wife and daughter could +give him. + +My curiosity prompted me to inquire of Mrs. B. and Miss B., without +divulging my motive, the particulars of the call they had received +from the horse-car orator. I learned that Mrs. B. had told the girl's +mother the facts of the case while the two daughters were talking +together. Miss B. said that they, now and then, overheard a few words +of the conversation between the older women, and that her companion +had made several inquiries concerning it. Among others was the query: + +"How many grains of the medicine does your father take every day?" + +Miss B., supposing she referred to the quinine, answered: + +"Five, generally; but on the day of which mamma speaks, ten grains +were prescribed." + +And from this scanty amount of rapidly acquired information had grown +the story to which I had been an amazed listener. + +"Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" + +Yet this girl did not intend to lie. She gleaned scraps of a +conversation, and allowed a vivid imagination to supply the portions +she did not hear. Add to this the love of producing a sensation, which +is an inherent trait of many characters, and behold potent reasons for +seven-tenths of the cases of exaggeration which come to our notice, +romances constructed upon the "impressionist-picture" plan--a thing of +splash and glare and abnormal perspective that vitiates the taste for +symmetry and right coloring. + +We all like to be the first to tell a story, and are anxious to relate +it so well that our listeners shall be entertained. That a tale loses +nothing in the telling is an established fact, especially if the +narrator thereof observes a lack of interest on the part of his +listeners. Then the temptation to arouse them to attention becomes +almost irresistible and unconsciously one accepts the maxim at which +we all sneer,--that it is folly to let the truth spoil a good story. +Every day we have occasion to hold our heads, reeling to aching with +conflicting accounts of some one incident, and repeat the question +asked almost nineteen hundred years ago: + +"What is truth?" + +We hear much of people who are "too frank." These destroyers of the +peace of mind of friend and foe alike pride themselves on the fact +that they are "nothing if not candid," and "always say just what they +think." Be it understood, this is not truthfulness. The utterance of +unnecessary and unkind criticism, however honest, is impertinence, +amounting to insolence. + +When your "frank friend(?)" tells you that your gown does not fit, +that you dress your hair in such an unbecoming manner, that your +management of your household is not what it should be, she takes an +unwarrantable liberty. If traced back, the source of these remarks +would be found in a large percentage of instances, in a disagreeable +temper, captious humors, and a spirit that is anything but Christian. +One may be entirely truthful without bestowing gratuitous advice and +admonition. + +People differ widely in their notions of veracity, and few would +endorse the technical definition with which this talk begins. Is it +because there is so much intentional falsehood, so much that is not in +"exact accordance with that which is, has been, or shall be," or that +standards of veracity vary with individual disposition, and what may +be classified as social climatic influences? Is it true that in morals +there is no stated, infallible and eternal gauge--"the measure of a +man--that is, of an angel?" + +If a lie is something told "with the intention to deceive," as says +the catechism, a nineteenth century Diogenes would have need to search +in a crowd with an electric light in quest of a perfectly truthful +man. + +For our comfort and hope be it recorded that there are men and women +who are uniformly veracious, and still courteous, who would not +descend to falsehood or subterfuge, yet who are never guilty of the +rudeness of making untactful speeches. + +Were there more of such exceptions to the rule of inconsiderate, +exaggerated and recklessly mendacious talk that wounds ear and heart, +the "society lie" would be no more, and this flimsy excuse for +falsehood would be voted an article too tenuous and threadbare for +use. + +Good people, so-called Christians, seldom appreciate what immense +responsibility is theirs in setting the example of telling the truth, +the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Said an amiable woman to me +a few days ago: + +"Mrs. Smith, who is a strict Sabbatarian, asked me yesterday if I had +ever been to a Sunday reception or tea. Now, while I do not generally +approve of them, I do, once in a great while, attend one. But, rather +than shock her by acknowledging the offence I lied out of it. It is +the only course left for the well-bred in such circumstances." + +An hour later I saw her punish her child for denying that she had +committed some piece of mischief of which she was guilty. The mother's +excuse to herself probably was that the child told a lie, she, a +"society fib." Perhaps the smaller sinner had no reputation for +breeding to maintain. + +The love for drink is not more surely transmitted from father to son +than is the habit of lying. Once begun in a family, it rears itself, +like a hooded snake, all along the line in generation after generation +and appears to be an ineradicable evil. It spreads, too, as specks in +a garnered fruit. We are startled by seeing it in children by the time +they can lisp a lie, and we note in them, with a sickening at heart, +the father's or grandfather's tendency to secretiveness or deceit, or +the mother's _penchant_ for false excuses. We can scarcely bequeath a +greater sorrow to our offspring than to curse them before their birth +with this hereditary taint, which is, perhaps, one of the hardest of +all evils to correct. It may take the form of exaggerated speech, of +courteous or cowardly prevarication, or of downright falsehood, but, +in whatever guise, it is a curse to the owner thereof as well as to +his family. If you are so unfortunate as to have any symptom of it in +your blood, watch your boy or girl from infancy, and try, by all the +arts in your power, fighting against nature itself, even, to prevent +what is bred in the bone from coming out in the flesh. + +We children of a larger growth can do much toward the correction of +this blemish in others as in ourselves by close guard over our own +speeches and assertions. + +There are no sharper, more intolerant critics than the little ones, +and if they inherit the tendency to insincerity the only way in which +you can avert the much-to-be dreaded sin is by being absolutely +truthful yourself. Cultivate veracity as a virtue, as a grace, as a +vital necessity for the integrity of the soul. Prune excrescences in +the shape of loose statements; if you err in telling a wonderful +story, let it be in cutting down rather than in magnifying. A couple +of ciphers less are better than one too many. It is to be feared that +for many of us this would be a hard, although a wholesome task. The +trail of the serpent is over us all. We yield heedlessly to the +temptation to break promises, and to the habit of giving false reasons +to our children, little thinking that their grave, innocent eyes may +read our souls more clearly than those of older persons who are not so +easily deceived by our tongues. When your child, although a mere baby +in years, once discovers in you exaggeration or untruthfulness, he +remembers it always, and you, from that moment, lose one of the most +precious joys and sacred opportunities of your life--that of inspiring +his entire confidence and trust, and of leading the tiny feet in the +seldom-trodden path of Perfect Truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE GOSPEL OF CONVENTIONALITIES. + + +Young people are proverbially intolerant, so I listened patiently, a +few days since, to the outburst of an impetuous girl-friend. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "we are all such shams!" + +"Shams?" I repeated, interrogatively. + +"Yes, just that, shams through and through! We, you and I are no +exceptions to the universal rule of, to quote Mark Twain, 'pretending +to be what we ain't.' We are polite and civil when we feel ugly and +cross; while in company we assume a pleasant expression although +inwardly we may be raging. All our appurtenances are make-believes. We +wear our handsome clothes to church and concert, fancying that mankind +may be deceived into the notion that we always look like that. Food +cooked in iron and tin vessels is served in French china and cut +glass. When children sit down to table as ravenously hungry as small +animals, their natural instincts are curbed, and they are compelled to +eat slowly and 'properly.' You see it everywhere and in everything. +The whole plan of modern society, with its manners and usages, is a +system of shams!" + +In contradistinction to this unsparing denunciation, I place Harriet +Beecher Stowe's idea of this "system of shams." In "My Wife and I" she +says: + +"You see we don't propose to warm our house with a wood fire, but only +to adorn it. It is an altar-fire that we will kindle every evening, +just to light up our room, and show it to advantage. And that is what +I call woman's genius. To make life beautiful; to keep down and out of +sight the hard, dry, prosaic side--and keep up the poetry--that is my +idea of our 'mission.' I think woman ought to be what Hawthorne calls +'The Artist of the Beautiful.'" + +Mrs. Stowe is in the right. In this commonplace, fearfully real world, +what would we do without the blessed Gospel of Conventionalities? In +almost every family there is one member, frequently the father of the +household, who, like my young friend, has no patience with +"make-believes" and eyes all innovations with stern disapproval and +distrust. It is pitiful to witness the harmless deceits practiced by +mothers and daughters, the wiles many and varied, by which they strive +to introduce some much-to-be-desired point of table etiquette to which +"Papa is opposed." Sometimes his protest takes the form of a +good-natured laugh and shrug accompanied by the time-battered +observation that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks." More +frequently overtures of this kind are repulsed by the gruff excuse: + +"My father and mother never had any of these new-fangled notions and +they got on all right. What was good enough for them is good enough +for me!" + +And so paterfamilias continues to take his coffee with, instead of at +the end of, his dinner, eats his vegetables out of little sauce plates +with a spoon, insists that meat, potatoes and salad shall all be +placed upon the table at once, and, if the father and mother than whom +he does not care to rise higher were, in spite of their excellence, of +the lower class, he carries his food to his mouth on the blade of his +knife, and noisily sips tea from his saucer. Evidently he does not +believe in shams, those little conventionalities, nearly all of which +have some excellent cause for existence, although we do not always +pause to examine into their _raison d'etre_. They may be founded upon +hygienic principles, or on the idea of the greatest good to the +greatest number. Many seemingly slight breaches of etiquette, if +practiced by everyone, would create a state of affairs which even the +most ardent hater of _les convenances_ would deplore. If, for +instance, all men were so entirely a law unto themselves that they +despised the rule which commands a man to resign his chair to a lady, +what would become of us poor women? In crowded rooms we would have the +pleasure of standing still or walking around the masculine members of +the company, who would sit at ease. Were the unmannerly habit of +turning the leaves of a book with the moist thumb or finger indulged +in by all readers, the probabilities are that numberless diseases +would thus be transmitted from one person to another. + +It argues an enormous amount of self-conceit in man or woman when he +or she calmly refuses to conform to rules of etiquette. In plain +language, we are none of us in ourselves _pur et simple_ so agreeable +as to be tolerable without the refinement and polish of manners upon +which every "artist of the beautiful" should insist in her own house. +Too many mothers and housekeepers think that "anything will do for +home people." It is our duty to keep ourselves and our children "up" +in "the thing" in table and parlor manners, dress and the etiquette of +visiting, letter-writing, etc. Even among well-born people there are +certain small tokens of good breeding which are too often neglected. +One of these is what a college boy recently described in my hearing as +the "bread-and-butter letter." At my inquiring look he explained that +it was "the note of thanks a fellow writes to his hostess after +having made a visit at her house--don't you know?" + +This note should be written as soon as possible after the guest +returns to her home, even if she has been entertained for only a +night. In it she informs her hostess of her safe arrival, and thanks +her for her kind hospitality. A few lines are all that is necessary. + +It seems incredible that in decent society anyone should be so little +acquainted with the requirements of the drawing-room as to enter a +lady's parlor, and stop to speak to another person before first +seeking his hostess and paying her his respects. And yet I have seen +men come into a room and stop to chat first with one, then with +another friend, before addressing the entertainer. If, while searching +for the lady of the house in a parlor full of people, a man is +addressed by some acquaintance, he should merely make an apology and +pass on until he has found his hostess. After that he is free to talk +with whom he pleases. + +It is to be hoped that when a man commits the rudeness of passing into +a room before a lady instead of giving her the precedence, it is from +forgetfulness. Certainly I have frequently been the amazed witness of +this proceeding. Forgetfulness, too, may be the cause of a man's +tilting back his chair until it sways backward and forward, meantime +burying his hands in the depths of his trousers pockets. But such +thoughtlessness is, in itself, discourtesy. No man or woman has a +right to be absorbed in his or her affairs to the extent of forgetting +what is due to other people. + +The tricks of manner and speech contracted by a boy or young man +should be noticed and corrected by mother or sister before they become +confirmed habits. Such are touching a lady on arm or shoulder to +attract her attention, inquiring "What say?" or "Is that so?" to +indicate surprise, glancing at the addresses on letters given him to +mail, and consulting his watch in company. It would be difficult to +find a better rule for courtesy with which to impress a boy or girl +than the advice written by William Wirt to his daughter: + +"The way to make yourself pleasing to others is to show that you care +for them. The world is like the miller at Mansfield 'who cared for +nobody, no, not he, because nobody cared for him.' And the whole world +will serve you so if you give it the same cause. Let all, therefore, +see that you do care for them, by showing what Sterne so happily calls +'the small sweet, courtesies of life,' in which there is no parade, +whose voice is to still, to ease; and which manifest themselves by +tender and affectionate looks, and little kind acts of attention, +giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, +walking, sitting or standing." + +There is one gross breach of good breeding which can hardly be due to +inattention. There is a homely proverb to the effect that one "should +wash her dirty linen at home," and it is to the violation of this +advice that I refer. Discussing home matters, complaining of the +actions of members of your family, or confiding their faults or +shortcomings to an outsider, even though she be your dearest friend, +is as great an act of discourtesy as it is contrary to all the +instincts of family love and loyalty. Your father may be a hypocrite, +your mother a fool of the Mrs. Nickleby stamp, your brother a +dissipated wretch, and your sister a professional shop-lifter, while +your husband combines the worst characteristics of the entire +family--but as long as you pretend to be on speaking terms with them, +stand up for them against all the rest of the world; and if matters +have come to such a pass that you have severed all connection with +them, let a proper pride for yourself and consideration for the person +to whom you are talking deter you from acknowledging their faults. +These persons are members of your family--that should be enough to +keep you forever silent as to their peccadilloes or sins. But, if you +do not feel this, for politeness' sake refrain from making your +listener supremely uncomfortable by your complaints. No true lady will +so far forget her innate ladyhood as to be guilty of this rudeness. + +To fulfill what Mrs. Stowe calls our "mission," we women must insist +on the observance of the conventionalities at home. Husbands are +sometimes, even when "taken young," too obstinate to change; although, +to their credit be it said, if approached in the right way they will +generally try to correct tricks of speech or manner. But with our +children there should be no peradventure. Upon us is laid the +responsibility of making them what we choose, of developing them into +gentlemen, or neglecting them until they become boors. It is never too +early to begin. First impressions are lasting ones, and the child who, +from the beginning, is trained to observe the "small, sweet +courtesies," not only when in company, but in the nursery and with the +members of his own family, will never forget them. We often observe +"that man does as well as he can, but he is not the gentleman born." +That should, of itself, be a lesson to us mothers, to teach our +children, not only by precept but by example, to keep alive the +"altar-fire" of conventionality, and thus to make life warm, +beautiful, poetic. After all, may not what the impulsive girl whom I +quoted at the beginning of this talk termed the "sham" of life, be the +real, though hidden side? We read that "the things which are seen are +temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +FAMILIAR OR INTIMATE? + + +"What makes the difference between those two carriages?" I asked a +wagon builder, while examining two light vehicles of the same general +build and design. One cost twice as much as the other, and looked as +if it were worth four times as much. + +"Some of it is in the material, but more in the finishing," was the +response. "This is of pretty fair wood, but simply planed and painted, +while this"--pointing to the more costly equipage--"is as hard as a +rock, and has been rubbed smooth, then polished until the surface is +as fine as silk. Then it is flowed all over with the best varnish, +left to dry ten days, and over-flowed again. That makes all the +difference in the look of wagons. Two of them may be built just alike, +and one will look like a grocer's errand-cart, while the other is a +regulation gentleman's turnout. It is all the effect of polish and +finish." + +Involuntarily my mind reverted to Mr. Turveydrop and his modest +assurance that "we do our best to polish, polish, polish." + +The carriage builder struck the right chord when he affirmed that +"finish made all the difference," and it applies as truly to flesh and +blood as to insensate wood. Only the wood has sometimes the advantage +of taking more kindly to improvement than do human free agents. + +The rough places on which the effects of polish have not showed are +too numerous for me to touch upon more than a few of them in this +talk. We will acknowledge that the paint and varnish are not all that +is necessary. The wood must be hard and prepared for the flowing +process, if the wagon is to stand the scrutiny of critical eyes. Too +often the paint is laid on thickly--perhaps too thickly--over +indifferent material, and the first shock or scratch makes it scale +and flake off. + +As the test of the genuineness of the polish must be its durability, +so intimacy is the standard by which we may judge of the finish of the +so-called well-bred man or woman. If the refinement be ingrain, the +familiarity which inevitably breeds contempt will never intrude +itself. + +To come down to everyday particulars: One of the unwarrantable +familiarities is to enter a friend's house without ringing her +door-bell,--unless you have been especially requested to do so. No +ground of intimacy on which you and your friend may stand justifies +this liberty. The housekeepers are few and far between who, in their +inmost souls, will not resent this invasion of their domain. It argues +an enormous amount of self-conceit on your part when you fancy that +you are considered so entirely one of the family that your unannounced +presence will _never_ prove an unwelcome intrusion. + +In country places neighbors contract the habit of "running in" to see +one another. Were the truth known, many a housekeeper, deep in +pie-making and bread-kneading, would gladly give her handsomest loaf +for two minutes in which to smooth her rumpled hair and change her +soiled apron. + +It is only in books that the heroine always looks so charming, no +matter in what labor she may be engaged, that she would be glad to +receive any acquaintance. Of course our housewife's husband may see +her when she is baking, and our domestic moralist would argue that +what is good enough for him is good enough for callers. Perhaps it +does not occur to her that the husband has so often found his wife +dressed "neatly and sweetly" that the cooking costume will not make +upon him the disagreeable impression it might produce upon a caller +who sees her hostess once in this guise where the husband has hundreds +of opportunities of beholding her in company clothes. + +It may be remarked in this connection that the persons who are guilty +of lapses like that of entering your front door unannounced are of the +same class as those who enter your bed-chamber or sanctum without +knocking. This is a rudeness which nothing warrants. There are times +when we wish to be alone in our own rooms, and when we want to feel +that we are safe from sudden interruption during the processes of +bathing and dressing, even if the door of our apartment is not locked. +One's own room should be so completely her own that her nearest and +dearest will not feel at liberty to enter without permission. Of +course it is frequently the case that two persons, sisters, or husband +and wife, or mother and daughter, occupy the same chamber. When this +is the case, it is _theirs_ wholly and completely, and they are right +to insist that other members of the household shall knock before +entering. + +Another evidence of lack of finish is offering gratuitous advice. If +your opinion is asked, it is kind and right that you should give it; +but a safe rule to go by is that unless your advice is requested it is +not wanted. It is one of the strangest problems in human nature that +one should of her own accord implicate herself in other people's +affairs and take upon herself onerous responsibility by giving her +unsolicited opinion in matters which do not concern her. It is a +disagreeable task, and a very thankless one. Viewed from this +standpoint, I am hardly surprised at the price demanded by lawyers for +their advice. Perhaps the secret of their high fees may be that they +decline to give a judgment unless asked for it. Our "own familiar +friends" might learn a lesson from them. + +It is a pity that any well-bred intimate should so far forget herself +as to correct another person's child in the presence of the little +one's father or mother. That this is frequently done will be certified +to by hundreds of mothers who have been made irate by such untimely +aids to their discipline. Johnny's mother tells him to stop making +that noise, and her visitor adds severely, "Now, Johnny, do not make +that noise any more!" Susie is saucy to her mamma, and her mamma's +friend reprovingly remarks to the little girl that she is pained and +surprised to hear her speak so naughtily to her dear mamma. Children +resent this, and are far more keen and observant of these matters +than their elders think. + +Little four-year-old and his mamma were spending the day at +grandpapa's last week. The family was seated on the veranda when the +small man announced his intention to his mamma of going out upon the +grass to pick wild flowers. Before the mother could reply, the +grandfather stated his objection: + +"No, child, the grass is too wet. I am afraid you will get your feet +damp." + +Four-year-old was equal to the occasion, as Young America generally +is. + +"Thank you, grandpa," was the calm response, "but my mamma is here. +She can manage me." + +Undoubtedly he was extremely impertinent; but did not the interference +of the grandparent justify the rebuke? + +Every one, even the lower classes, those who are considered +under-bred, know that it is an atrocious impertinence to make +inquiries of one's best friend as to the state of his finances. But +like questions in the form of "feelers" are of such frequent +occurrence that a reminder of this kind is scarcely out of place. +There are few persons who deliberately ask you the amount of your +income, but how often does one hear the queries: + +"How much did you pay for that horse of yours?" "Was that gown very +expensive?" "Have you a mortgage on that place?" "How much is the +mortgage?" "What rent do you pay?" "How much does your table cost you +per week?" etc., etc., until the unfortunate being at whom this +battery of inquiries is aimed feels tempted to forget _his_ "polish" +and "finish," and retort as did the sobbing street boy when questioned +by the elderly philanthropic woman as to the cause of his tears: + +"None of your blamed business." + +The etiquette of the table is supposed to be so thoroughly rooted and +grounded into our children from infancy, and is, as a rule, so well +understood by all ladies and gentlemen, that the visitor though a +fool, could scarcely err therein. But this is not the case. At my own +board, a man of the world, accustomed to excellent society, told me +that he saw no mustard on the table, and as he always liked it with +his meat he would trouble me to order some; while another man, a +brilliant scholar, asked at a dinner party, "Will you tell your butler +to bring me a glass of milk?" With these men the sandpaper of parental +admonition or the flowing varnish of early association had evidently +been neglected. + +Intimacy, and even tender friendship may, and do, exist between men +and women who are bound to one another by no family tie. Familiarity +can never decently enter into such a relationship. If you, as a +refined woman, have a man friend who slaps you on the back, squeezes +your arm to attract your attention, holds your hand longer than +friendship ought to dictate, and, without your permission, calls you +in public or in private by your first name, you need not hesitate to +drop him from your list of intimates. He is neither a gentleman nor +does he respect you as you deserve. He may be, in his way, an +estimable man, but it is not in _your_ way, and he belongs to the rank +of very ordinary acquaintanceship. + +If a man asks you to call him by his first name, and your friendship +with him justifies it, do not hesitate to do so; but if he is the +"finished" article, he will not imagine that this concession on your +part gives him the right to drop unbidden the "Miss" or "Mrs." from +_your_ name. + +A true gentleman does not speak of a lady, even his betrothed, to +strangers without what boys call "the handle" to her name. Nor should +a woman mention men by their last names only. When a young or elderly +woman speaks of "Smith," "Brown" or "Jones," you may make up your mind +that the last coat of varnish was neglected when she was "finished." + +Always be cautious in making advances toward familiarity. Be certain +that your friendship is desired before going more than halfway. Not +long ago I heard a woman say gravely of an uncongenial acquaintance +whose friendship had been forced upon her: + +"She is certainly my _familiar_ friend. We can never be _intimate_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +OUR STOMACHS. + + +In the best grades of society it is not now considered a sign of +refinement to be "delicate." When our grandmothers, and even our +mothers, were girls, robust health was esteemed almost a vulgarity. +Now, the woman who is pale and "delicate" is not an interesting +invalid, but sometimes an absolute bore. There are exceptions to this +rule of pride in _in_delicate health,--notably among the lower +classes. These people having neglected and set at defiance all +hygienic rules, feel that a mark of special distinction is set upon +them by their diseases. In fact, they "enjoy poor health," and take +all occasions to discourse to the willing or disgusted listener upon +their "symptoms," "disorders," their "nerves," and "Complaints." The +final word should be spelt with a huge C, so important a place does +it occupy in their estimation. The three D's which should be rigidly +excluded from polite conversation--Domestics, Dress and Diseases--form +the staple of their conversation. And the greatest of these is +Diseases. + +A farmer's daughter, whose rosy cheeks and plump figure elicited from +me a gratulatory comment upon her robust appearance, indignantly +informed me that she was "by no means strong, and had been doctorin' +off and on for a year past for the malaria." + +"Do you eat and sleep tolerably well?" + +"Oh, yes," with the plaintive whine peculiar to the would-be invalid. +"I sleep dreadful heavy. I take a nap each day for a couple of hours. +And I must have a pound of beefsteak or mutton-chops for dinner. The +fever makes me _that_ hungry! You see it devours all that I eat, and +the strength of the food goes to that." + +Had any one pointed out to the deluded girl the folly of her theory, +and explained that the fever patient becomes almost crazed from the +restlessness that will not allow him to sleep, and that he loathes the +very thought of food with a disgust that makes the daintiest dishes +prepared by loving hands as gritty cinders between his teeth, she +would have smiled patronizing superiority, and explained at length +that her complaint was a peculiar one,--no common, everyday illness. + +With this class, stomach disorders and their attendant sufferings, +such as giddiness, shortness of breath and pain in the side, are +always attributed to cardiac irregularity. There may be a lack of +appetite and dull or acute pain following eating, and the fetid breath +arising from a disordered condition of the stomach; but they resent +the notion that their "heart disease" is dyspepsia, and would, in all +probability, discharge the physician who recommended pepsin and +judicious diet. + +Perhaps the most discouraging feature of this class of persons is that +they are ignorant and obstinate in this ignorance. The opinion of all +the medical fraternity in the country would, in the farmer's +daughter's estimation, be unworthy of consideration compared with the +advice or suggestion advanced by one of her own kind. The practitioner +among the unlearned has fearful odds to contend with in trying to +bring an ignorant patient under his regimen. One word from sister, +cousin or aunt, and the invalid will cast aside the physician's +remedies, and take quarts of some patent medicine. + +If you should question your laundress or cook, or your farmer's wife, +you would be appalled to discover what peculiar notions she has of +her physical make-up. It would be interesting and astounding to allow +one of these people to draw a chart of her interior machinery, as she +supposes it to be. It would bear as little resemblance to the reality +as did the charts of the ancients who antedated Tycho Brahe, +Pythagoras, and Copernicus, to the celestial charts of the nineteenth +century. One would note especially the prominence given to certain +organs. The stomach is almost, if not entirely, ignored. It is a +matter for speculation why this valuable factor of the human system +should be regarded with some disfavor by the ignorant. They joyfully +admit the existence of the heart, brain and kidneys, and even the +liver, and discourse with zestful unction on their own peculiar and +special diseases of these organs; but suggest not to them that the +stomach is out of sorts. This is not, in their estimation, a romantic +Complaint. Their specialty is Nerves. To hear the frequency with which +they attribute to these all uncomfortable sensations, one would +imagine that the victims were made by a special pattern, like the +tongue, of ends of nerves, all super-sensitive. The Nerves are a +mysterious portion of their being, to whose account everything is +laid, from extreme irritability and vexation, to nausea and +rheumatism. "My nerves are _that_ sensitive!" is a universal +complaint. + +It is difficult for the average mind to grasp the reason why the +stomach, man's best friend and worst enemy, should be made of no +account, and repudiated with such indignant resentment. Surely the +giddiness occasioned by a tendency of blood to the head is no more +romantic than the dizziness induced by gaseous fermentation of matter +in the stomach. The digestive organs should and do receive vast +consideration from the medical profession. How often do we hear it +said of some man lying at the point of death that as long as his +digestive functions are duly performed there is hope; and how often, +after the crisis is past, do we learn from the jubilant doctor that +the patient's stomach was his salvation! "If _that_ had failed, +nothing could have saved him." + +Let me recommend, as the pre-eminent duty of the sensible reader, care +of the stomach and the alimentary apparatus. By care I do not mean +dosing. With too many people the science of hygiene is confined in +their imagination and practice to remedial measures. Of the weightier +matters of precaution they reck nothing. Once in so often they "take a +course of physic." This is done not so much because it is needed, as +on principle, and because they have somewhere heard that it is a good +thing to do. So, although all the digestive functions may be +performing their part in a perfectly proper and regular manner, they +must be weakened and irritated by draughts which do more harm than +good. + +Old proverbs are often the truest, and this may be affirmed of the +adage that "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." Do not, +if by care you can prevent it, allow your stomach to become +disordered; but if, in spite of care, it is irritated, soothe instead +of punishing it. Manage it as you sometimes control a fretful +child,--by letting it severely alone. A few hours' fasting is an +excellent remedy, and may continue until a feeling of faintness warns +you that nature needs your assistance. Then eat _slowly_ a little +light food, such as milk-toast or very hot beef-tea. Quiet and diet +work more wonders than quarts of medicine. + +If your digestive organs are susceptible to disorder, be reasonably +careful about what you eat, even though you consider yourself quite +well. What a stomach has once done in the line of misbehavior, a +stomach may do again. If a pitcher has in it a tiny flaw, it may crack +when filled with boiling liquid. If you know of some article of food +which disagrees with you, _let it alone_. If you are inclined to +dyspepsia, eschew hot breads, pastry, fried or greasy food, nuts and +many sweets. Avoid becoming dependent upon any medicine to ward off +indigestion, if by care in your diet you can accomplish the same +purpose. Many dyspeptics take an inordinate amount of bicarbonate of +soda, an excellent corrective to acidity of the stomach when partaken +of occasionally, and in small portions. In some cases, large and +frequent doses have produced a cancerous condition of the coating of +the stomach, which has resulted in death. It sounds ridiculous to +speak of dependence upon soda-mint and pepsin tablets degenerating +into an incurable habit, but there are some people to whom they are as +necessary after each meal as were snuff and quids of tobacco to the +old people seventy years ago. + +Nature has provided a wonderful system of drains for carrying away the +effete matter of the body. The effect caused by the neglect of these +is akin to that produced by the choking of the waste-pipes in a house. +If they become stopped, you send in haste for a plumber, that he may +correct the trouble before it causes illness. If this state of affairs +is allowed to continue in the human body, the system takes up the +poison which slowly but surely does its work. + +Next to the special organs designed for this plan of sewerage, the +skin takes the most active part in disposing of impurities in the +blood. The tiny pores are so many little doors through which the +mischief may pass harmlessly away. But these pores must be kept open, +and the only way to accomplish this end is by the free use of soap and +warm water. This is such a homely remedy that it is sometimes sneered +at and often overlooked. Certain portions of the body, such as the +face and hands, are frequently washed, while other parts which are +covered by the clothing are neglected. The entire body, especially in +the creases where perspiration accumulates, should be sponged once a +day, if one perspires freely. While sponging is excellent, a plunge +bath should be frequently indulged in, as it opens the pores and +thoroughly cleanses the entire surface. + +Another desideratum is exercise, regular and abundant. Housework and +walking are all that a woman needs, although she may find great +pleasure as well as benefit from horseback riding, rowing and tennis. +But let her not allow herself to tax her strength to the point of +over-weariness. The amount of sleep needed by a woman is a mooted +point, but unless she is what slangy boys term "constitutionally +tired," she should sleep enough at night to ensure her against +drowsiness in the daytime. For the elderly and feeble, an occasional +nap after the noonday meal, especially during the warm weather, will +prove most refreshing. + +Try to bear in mind that you are not the only one concerned in your +health. Higginson, in speaking of the duty of girls to observe all +hygienic laws, tells us that, "unless our girls are healthy, the +country is not safe. The fate of institutions may hang on the precise +temperament which our next president shall have inherited from his +mother." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +CHEERFULNESS AS A CHRISTIAN DUTY. + + +Near me stands an anniversary present from a dear friend. It is a +large "loving cup," and is just now full of my favorite +nasturtiums--glowing as if they held in concentrated form all the +sunshine which has brought them to their glory of orange, crimson, +gold and scarlet. The ware of which the cup is made is a rich +brownish-yellow in color, and between each of the three handles is a +dainty design in white-and-cream, surrounded by an appropriate motto. +The one turned toward me at present forms the text of my present talk +and will, I hope, prove a happy hint to some of my readers: + + "Be always as happy as ever you can, + For no one delights in a sorrowful man." + +The rhyming couplet has set me to thinking, long and seriously, upon +the duty of cheerfulness, a duty which we owe not only to our +fellow-men, but to ourselves. It is such an uncomfortable thing to be +miserable that I marvel that any sensible human being ever gives way +to the inclination to look on the dark side of life. + +In writing this article, I wish to state in the beginning that the +women to whom it is addressed are not those over whom bereavement has +cast dark shadows. For genuine grief and affliction I have vast and +unbounded sympathy. For imaginary woes I have none. There is a certain +class of sentimentalists to whom it is positive joy to be made to +weep, and the longer they can pump up the tears the more content they +are. These are people who have never known a heart-sorrow. They revel +in books that end in death, and they listen to the details of a +dying-bed scene with ghoulish interest. Had genuine bereavement ever +been theirs, they would find only harrowing pain in such things. +Shallow brooks always gurgle most loudly in passing over the stones +underlying them. The great and mighty river flows silently and calmly +above the large boulders hidden far below the surface. + +The women of this sentimental class are those that read and write +verses upon "tiny graves," "dainty coffins," and "baby shrouds." + +The other day a friend shuddered audibly over the poem, admired by +many, entitled--"The Little White Hearse." + +"Just listen," she exclaimed, "to this last verse! After describing +the grief of the mother whose baby has just ridden to what she calls +'its long, lasting sleep,' she further harrows up the feelings by +winding up with:-- + +"'I know not her name, but her sorrow I know-- + While I paused on that crossing I lived it once more. +And back to my heart surged that river of woe +That but in the heart of a mother can flow-- + For the little white hearse has been, too, at my door.' + +"How could she write it? How could she bring herself to put that down +in black and white with the memory of the baby she has lost, in her +mind?" + +"My dear," quietly answered a deep-natured, practical woman,--"either +the author of that poem is incapable of such suffering as some +mothers endure, or the little white hearse has never stopped at her +door. If it had, she could not have written the poem." + +She who "talks out" her pain is not the one who is killed by it. A +peculiarity of hopeless cases of cancer is that the sufferer therefrom +has a dread of mentioning the horror that is eating away her life. + +Since, then, imaginary woe is a species of self-indulgence, let us +stamp that healthful person who gives way to it as either grossly +selfish or foolishly affected. Illness is the only excuse for such +weakness, and even then will-power may do much toward chasing away the +blue devils. + +Some people find it harder than others to be uniformly cheerful. While +one man is, as the saying is, "born happy," another inherits a +tendency to look upon the sombre aspect of every matter presented to +him. To the latter, the price of cheerfulness is eternal vigilance +lest he lapse into morbidness. But after a while habit becomes second +nature. I do not advocate the idea of taking life as a huge joke. The +man or woman who does this, throws the care and responsibility that +should be his or hers upon some other shoulders. My plea is for the +brave and bright courage that makes labor light. When we work, let us +work cheerfully; when we play, let us play with our whole hearts. In +this simple rule lies the secret of the youth that endures long after +the hair is white and the Delectable Mountains are in sight. + +There is no habit of more fungus-like growth than that of melancholy, +yet many good people give way to it. Some Christians go through this +life as if it were indeed a vale of tears, and they, having been put +in it without their consent were determined to make the worst of a bad +bargain, and to be as wretched as opportunity would allow. How much +better to consider this very good world as a garden, whose beauty +depends largely upon our individual exertions to make it fair. We may +cultivate and enjoy the flowers, or let them become so overrun with +underbrush that the blossoms are smothered and hidden under the dank +growth of the evil-smelling and common weeds. + +Said a clergyman to one of his depressed and downcast parishioners: + +"My friend, your religion does not seem to agree with you." + +Only a few chapters back I quoted from the Apostle of +Cheerfulness--Dr. Holmes--that most quotable of men. But he expresses +what I would say so much more clearly than I can, that once more I +refer my readers to him. I do not apologize for doing so. This last +one of the noble company of America's great writers, who have passed +away during the last ten years, cannot be read too much or loved too +dearly. Let us see, what he, as Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, has +to say on this subject. + +"Oh, indeed, no! I am not ashamed to make you laugh occasionally. I +think I could read you something which I have in my desk which would +probably make you smile. Perhaps I will read it one of these days if +you are patient with me when I am sentimental and reflective; not just +now. The ludicrous has its place in the universe; it is not a human +invention, but one of the divine ideas, illustrated in the practical +jokes of kittens and monkeys long before Aristophanes or Shakespeare. +How curious it is that we always consider solemnity and the absence of +all gay surprises and encounter of wits as essential to the idea of +the future life of those whom we thus deprive of half their faculties, +and then call blessed. There are not a few who, even in this life, +seem to be preparing themselves for that smileless eternity to which +they look forward by banishing all gayety from their hearts and all +joyousness from their countenances. I meet one such in the street not +infrequently--a person of intelligence and education, but who gives me +(and all that he passes), such a rayless and chilling look of +recognition--something as if he were one of Heaven's assessors, come +down to 'doom' every acquaintance he met--that, I have sometimes begun +to sneeze on the spot, and gone home with a violent cold dating from +that instant. I don't doubt he would cut his kitten's tail off if he +caught her playing with it. Please tell me who taught her to play with +it?" + +It is one of the unexplained mysteries of human nature that people +receive their griefs as direct from the hand of God, but not their +joys. Why does not a kind Father mean for us to profit by the one as +much as by the other? And since into nearly every life falls more +sunshine than shadow, why leave the sunny places and go out of our way +to sit and mope in the darkest, dreariest shade we can find? I believe +in the Gospel of Cheerfulness. It is your duty and mine to get every +drop of cream off of our own especial pan of milk. And if we do have +to drink skim milk, shall we throw away the cream on that account? If +it were not to be used it would not be there. God does not make things +to have them wasted. + +All of us have our worries--some small, some great--and the strength +and depth of our characters are proved by the way in which we meet the +trials. Cheerfulness is God's own messenger to lighten our burdens +and to make our times of joy even more bright and beautiful. Have you +noticed how, as soon as you can laugh over a vexation, the sting of it +is gone? And the best of it all is that you cannot be happy yourself +without casting a little light, even though it be but reflected +sunshine, into some other life. + +William Dunbar, in 1479, said: + +"Be merry, man, and take not sair to mind + The wavering of this wretched world of sorrow: +To God be humble, to thy friend be kind, + And with thy neighbor gladly lend and borrow; + His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow! +Be blyth in heart for any aventure, + How oft with wise men it has been said aforow, +Without gladness availes no treasure." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE FAMILY INVALID. + + +One of the most anomalous of the inconsistencies peculiar to human +nature is that we who are flesh, and consequently liable to all the +ills to which flesh is heir, should know so little about the manner in +which to check or, at least, alleviate these miseries. In the average +household the proper care of the sick is an unknown art, or one so +little understood that illness would seem to be an impossible +contingency. + +The chamber of illness is at best a sadly uncomfortable place, and it +is the duty of the nurse, be she a hireling or the nearest and dearest +of kin to the prostrate inhabitant thereof, to be cognizant of the +methods of tending and easing the unfortunate being during the trying +period of his enforced idleness. Only those who have been confined to +a sick couch can appreciate its many trying features. The looker-on +sees a man or woman uncomfortable or in pain, lying in an easy bed, +"the best place for sick folk," with nothing to trouble him beyond the +bodily malease which holds him there. He is merely laid aside for +repairs, and, if the observer be somewhat wearied and overworked, he +is conscious of a pang of envy. But he does not think of the sleepless +nights through which the monotonous ticking of the clock is varied +only by the striking of the hours, each one of them seeming double its +actual length; or of the aching head and limbs; the feverish +restlessness which makes repose an impossibility; or--most trying of +all--the dumb nausea and loathing of the food, which, as one poor +woman complained of meals partaken in bed, "tastes of the mattress and +covers!" + +The member of the family who is laid low by illness should receive the +first consideration of the entire household. Intelligent care and +nursing will be of more benefit than medicines. An old poem, written +over two hundred and fifty years ago, struck the right chord when it +advised: + + "Use three physicians: First, Dr. Quiet, + Then Dr. Merryman, and Dr. Diet." + +Noise and disturbance of whatever description must be an unknown +quantity in a sick room. There "Dr. Quiet" should hold undisputed and +peaceful sway. Felt or soft kid slippers, devoid of any offensive +squeak, should be worn, and loud tones and exclamations prohibited. On +the other hand, do not whisper to any person who chances to be in the +room. Whispering arouses the patient's curiosity and suspicions, and, +if he be asleep, the sibilant sound will pierce his slumbers and +awaken him. Let all remarks be made in a low-pitched undertone. Never, +even at the risk of causing offence, allow discussion of any subject +to occur in the presence of the invalid. You may imagine that he does +not mind it, that his mind will be diverted; but the argument ended, +there may be noticed a flush on the cheek and a rapidity of breathing +that bodes ill. One admirable physician makes it a rule never to +permit political or religious topics to be canvassed in the hearing +of one of his "cases," as a wide experience has taught him that such +matters cannot be talked of without causing some degree of excitement, +and thus retarding the patient's progress on the road toward health. +For the same reason, try, by every effort, to keep your charge from +thinking of work which should be done, and of any possible +inconvenience he may be causing. There never was, and never will be, a +convenient time for a person to be ill, so, whenever it comes, resolve +to make the best of it. There is no greater cruelty than that of +allowing a sick person to imagine that, but for his ill-timed +indisposition, you might be able to go here or there, or to do this or +that. Under such an idea the couch becomes a bed of clipped +horse-hairs to the helpless sufferer, and he feels himself to be a +useless hulk. This unkindness is oftentimes unintentional, and due +more to thoughtlessness than to deliberate hard-heartedness. To avoid +causing such discomfort do not look worried or distracted while +ministering to your patient's wants, and do not fussily "fly around" +in straightening and setting the room to rights. Let everything be +done decently and in order, rapidly and quietly. + +Another desideratum of the chamber of illness is _cleanliness_ in the +minutest particular. When the disease permits it, the sick person +should be sponged all over daily, the teeth cleansed and the hair +brushed. Wash the face and hands often during the day, as this process +rests and refreshes. + +The same gown should not be worn day and night, and the sheets must be +changed frequently. If practicable, place a lounge at the side of the +bed and lift or roll the patient off upon that, and turn mattresses +and beat up pillows before re-making the bed. If this cannot be done +with safety, the sheets may be removed, and others adjusted, simply by +moving the invalid from one side to the other of the bed, rolling up +the soiled sheet closely to the body, and spreading on the clean one +in its place. Then the patient may be moved back to his original +place, and the fresh sheet spread on the other side of the couch. + +Air the room often, covering the patient warmly for a moment while you +let in a sluice of ozone. Do not allow the chamber to become +overheated, or to grow so cold as to chill the hands and face. The +sick person may wear over the shoulders a flannel "nightingale" or +jacket, to leave the arms at liberty. + +In preparing the tray of food, let everything be as dainty as +possible. Use for this purpose your choicest china and whitest linen. +One important rule with regard to food is, Give a very little at a +time, and avoid vulgar abundance. The sight of the loaded plate will +discourage a weak appetite, and the delicate stomach will revolt at +the suggestion of accepting such a mass. A small bird, a neatly +trimmed French chop, a bit of tenderloin steak, or tender broiled +chicken, will be eaten, when, if two chops or half a steak were +offered, not a mouthful would be swallowed. To the well and strong +this may seem like folly, but let us, in our strength, pity and humor +the weaknesses of those upon whom God has laid suffering. It takes all +the ingenuity and tact which love can muster to make a sick-room +tolerable, and food anything but distasteful. + +A poor consumptive girl had fancied that she could eat a few raw +oysters, and the physician cheerfully prescribed them. At his next +visit he was met by the mother, who informed him with dismay that her +daughter would not touch the delicacy--"her stomach turned against it +the instant the dish was brought in." + +"How many did you let her see?" he asked. + +"Two dozen!" + +"Which would have daunted a well man, madam!" said the wise man. "Give +her _one_ at a time--cold and crisp, upon your best china plate, and +tell her that is all she can have for at least an hour. Make her +think that her appetite is under restraint. This is in itself a +stimulant." + +The hint is valuable. + +In administering medicine, be careful to follow the physician's +directions as to quantity and time of taking. Do not prepare the dose +in the presence of the patient, as it may make him exceedingly nervous +to watch the dropping or pouring of the drug; and after it has been +swallowed, put bottle and spoon out of sight. + +In too many families there exists sinful ignorance as to what should +be done in case of illness before the doctor arrives. If a child comes +in from play, hoarse and feverish, with nausea and pain in the head, +he is often allowed to sit or lie about the house until the +disagreeable symptoms become so pronounced as to cause alarm, and the +physician is summoned. The sufferer should have his feet soaked in hot +water, be put to bed, and some anti-febrine like aconite administered +until a slight perspiration is induced. Aconite is such deadly poison +that the mother must be sure she knows just in what quantity to give +it. The dose for a child from three to six years of age is half a drop +in a teaspoonful of water, every hour until the feverishness +disappears. Unless serious illness is beginning, the chances are that, +under this treatment, the little one will be almost well by the next +day. + +Mothers would do well to make a study of children's ailments and their +proper treatment. Above all, the matter of diet should be +comprehended. It is appalling to see the conglomeration of +indigestible substances which a sick person is allowed to eat. All +children should be trained to take medicine, and to submit to any +prescribed dietary without resistance. + +To keep up your patient's courage be, or at all events seem, cheerful. +Wise old Solomon, in his day, knew that a merry heart did good like a +medicine, and the morsel of wisdom is no less true now than then. Such +being the case, bring into the presence of the sufferer a bright face +and undisturbed demeanor. + +Much may be said on the other side of the question, _i.e._, from the +nurse's standpoint. There are patients _and_ patients, and some of +them are _im_patients. It is a pity for a sick person to allow himself +to so far lose control over his temper and manners as to be +disagreeable when all that tender care and nursing can do is his. But +really ill people are seldom cross, and the tried nurse may take to +heart the comforting thought that one rarely hears of a man dying in a +bad humor. It is undoubtedly discouraging to have a patient turn away +from a carefully prepared dainty with a shudder of disgust and +revulsion. It may sound harsh to say it, but nobody, sick or well, +has the right to do such an unkind and rude thing. Any one in extreme +bodily discomfort cannot be always smiling and uttering thanks, but he +can be gentle and appreciative of the efforts that are made toward +mitigating his distress. On his own account, as well as for the sake +of his attendant, he should keep up a semblance of cheerfulness, the +moral force of which is great. On the part of patient and nurse there +must be self control and forbearance, which if closely practiced may +bring sunshine into the most darkly shaded chamber of suffering. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +A TEMPERANCE TALK. + +(_Frank and Personal._) + + +A correspondent sends me, under cover of a personal letter, this +request: + +"Will Marion Harland show her hand upon the temperance question? The +occasional mention of wine, brandy, etc., in her cookery-books, and +her silence upon a subject of such vital moment to humanity, may +predispose many to doubt her soundness as to the apostle's injunction +to be 'temperate in all things.'" + +To clear decks for action, I observe that the text quoted by my +catechist contains no "injunction" but an impersonal statement of the +truth that "Every man that striveth for the mastery" (or in the games) +"is temperate in all things." The apostle is likening the running and +wrestling of the Olympic games to the Christian warfare, and throws in +the pregnant reminder that he who is training for race or fight must, +as he says elsewhere, "Keep his body under." The same rules hold good +with the athlete of to-day. While training, he neither drinks strong +liquors nor smokes. + +The stringency of the regulation, I interject in passing, is a +powerful argument laid ready to the hand of the advocates of total +abstinence. A habit that so far injures the physical powers as to tell +upon the action of heart, brains, lungs or muscles, must be an evil to +any human being, however healthy. + +The Chief Apostle, in another place, admonishes his neophytes to let +their "moderation" be known of all men. The revised version translates +the word "forbearance" or "gentleness." We will try to keep both texts +in mind during the informal homily that is the outcome of the question +put to my surprised self. + +"Surprised," because in the course of thirty-odd years of literary +life I have had so many opportunities of "showing my hand" upon this +and other great moral issues, and have improved them so diligently +that my readers should by now be tolerably familiar with the platform +on which I stand. Not being a card player, and knowing absolutely +nothing of the technicalities of the game, I am at a loss whether or +not to look for an implication of underhand work in the phrase chosen +by the inquisitor. If she means that I have kept aught back which that +part of the reading public that does me the honor to be interested in +my work has a right to know, I hope in the course of this paper to +disabuse her mind of the impression. + +As a means to this end, I wish to put upon record disapproval that +amounts to detestation of the practice of drinking anything that, in +the words of the old temperance pledge I "took" when a child, "will +make drunk come." That was the way it ran. The Rev. Thomas P. Hunt, +one of the best known temperance lecturers in America, used to make us +stand up in a body and chant it, he keeping time with head and hand, +and the boys imitating him. + + "We do not think + We'll ever drink + Brandy or rum, + Or anything that makes drunk come" + +I have never changed my mind on that head. What I thought then, I +_know_ now, that for half a century I have seen what desolation +drunkenness has wrought in our land. I never see a boy toss off his +"cocktail," or "cobbler", or "sling," or by whatever other +name the devil's brew is disguised, with the mannish, knowing air that +proves him to be as weak as water, when he would have you think him +strong as--fusel oil!--that I do not recall the vehement outburst in +Mrs. Mulock-Craik's "A Life for a Life," of the old clergyman whose +only son had filled a drunkard's grave: + +"If I had a son, and he liked wine, as a child does, perhaps--a pretty +little boy, sitting at table and drinking healths at birthdays; or a +schoolboy, proud to do what he sees his father doing--I would take his +glass from him, and fill it with poison--deadly poison--that he might +kill himself at once, rather than grow up to be his friends' curse and +his own damnation--a _drunkard_!" + +I lack words in which to express my contempt for the petty ambition, +rooted and grounded in vanity, that urges a young fellow to prove the +steadiness of his brain by tippling what he does not want, or even +like. For not one in fifty of those who take "nips" and "coolers," +cared for the taste of the perilous stuff at the first or twentieth +trial. He proved himself a man, one of the stronger parts of creation, +by pouring liquid fire down his quailing throat until he could do so +without winking. He swears and smokes cigarettes at street corners for +the same reason. + +"I _love_ a dog!" exclaimed a lively young girl, patting a big St. +Bernard. + +"Would I were a dog!" sighed an amorous dude. + +"Oh, you'll grow!" retorted the fair one, consolingly. + +I feel like plagiarizing the saucy hit, in witnessing the desperate +efforts aforementioned on the part of our mistaken boy. Sometimes (let +us thank a merciful heaven that this is so!) he does grow out of the +folly, and into manly self-contempt at the recollection of it. +Often--ah!--the pity and the shame of it! + +If somebody were to make it fashionable to take belladonna, aconite or +prussic acid in "safe" doses, three, or six, or a dozen times a day in +defiance of all the medical science in the world, the would-be man +would never be content until he had overcome natural repugnance to the +"bitters," and rate himself as so much higher in the scale of being by +the length of time his constitution could hold out against the deadly +effect of the potation--plume himself upon his superiority to men who +killed themselves by taking a like quantity. To drink one glass of +wine or spirits a day is to venture upon thin ice; when the one glass +has become the three that our boy _must_ have, it is but a question of +time how soon the treacherous crust will give way. + +Clearly, then--so clearly that it is difficult to see how anybody, +however blinded by self-conceit, can fail to perceive it--the only +safe thing is to let liquor as a beverage alone. The practice is, at +the best, like kindling the kitchen fire every morning with kerosene. +Insurance agents are slow to take risks upon property where this is +the rule. + +Nobody is so besotted as to ask, "Does dram-drinking pay?" There is +not a sane man or woman in America who would hesitate in the reply, +and the answers would all be the same. + +If he is a fool who tempts the approach of appetite that may--that +does in seventy-five times out of one hundred--become deadly and +incurable disease, what shall we say of the "strong head" that espies +no sin in social convivialities with the weak brother? Let me tell one +or two stories of the score that rush upon my memory with the approach +to this part of my subject. + +Forty years ago I sat down to the dinner-table of a man who stood high +in the community and church. He was a liberal liver, as his father +had been before him. That father had taken his toddy tri-daily for +seventy years, and died in the odor of sanctity. They could do such +things in that day, and never transcend the three-glass limit. My +godly grandfather did the same, and was never one whit the worse for +liquor in his life. _Their sons and grandsons cannot do it without +ruining themselves, body and soul._ + +I italicize the sentence. I wish I could write it in letters of fire +over the door of every liquor saloon. + +It may be the climate; it may be the high-pressure, fever-heated rate +of modern living; it may as well be that those honest men who made +their own apple whiskey and peach brandy, by their daily dram-drinking +transmitted the taste which adulterated liquors, in the generation +following, were to lash into uncontrollable appetite. + +But to my story. My father, one of the first in his day to set the +example of total abstinence "for his brethren and companions' sake," +had spoke repeatedly in my presence of the harm done by social +drinking, and what influence women could exert for or against the +custom. So I declined wine upon general principles when it was offered +by the courtly host. No verbal comment was made upon my singular +conduct, but the pert fifteen-year-old son of the house took occasion +to drink my health with a dumb grimace, and beckoned the butler +audaciously to fill up his glass, and a distinguished clergyman, whose +parishioner the host was, looked polite astonishment across the table +at the girl who dared. He took his wine gracefully--pointedly, it +seemed to me--an example imitated by his curate, a much younger man. +When we returned to the drawing-room, the master of the house sought +me out, and began to rally me upon the attentions of a young man in +the company to myself, in such a fashion that my cheeks flushed hotly +with indignant astonishment. Lifting my eyes to his, I saw that he was +_drunk_! The horror and dismay of the discovery were inconceivable. +The rest of the interview, which was ended by his wife's appearance +upon the scene to coax him off to his room, left an indelible +impression upon my mind. The Spartans had a way of "drenching" a helot +with liquor, then parading him in his drunken antics before the boys +of the town to disgust them with dram-drinking. My object-lesson was +the more striking because I had honored the inebriate. + +The eloquent rector read the burial service over him ten years ago. +For over twenty years he had been a hopeless sot, beggared in fortune, +wrecked in reputation--a by-word and a hissing in a town where he +had once stood among the best and purest. He outlived his son, who +drank himself to death before he was thirty. + +Another and later experience was in a fine old farm-house in the +Middle States. There had been a birthday celebration, and neighbors +and friends gathered about a board laden with country dainties, and +congratulated the worthy couple who presided over the feast upon the +four stalwart sons who, with their wives and children, were settled +upon and about an estate that had been for six generations in the +family. Hale, merry fellows they were--a little more red of face and +loud of talk than was quite seemly in a stranger's eyes, but +industrious and "forehanded," and kind of heart to parents, wives and +babies. After dinner we sat under the cherry trees upon the lawn, and +one of the sons brought out a round table, another a tray of glasses, +another a monster bowl of milk punch. + +Everybody pledged the patriarch's health in the creamy potation except +myself. Again, I acted upon general principles. Were I a wine-bibber I +should never touch glasses with a young man, or offer him anything +"that could make drunk come." Disliking spirituous draughts of all +kinds, and with the object-lesson of my girlhood branded upon memory, +I refused to taste the brimming glass, even when the pastor of the +household, a genial "dominie," rallied me upon my abstinence. He +offered gallantly, when he found me obdurate, to drink my share, and +had his glass replenished by the reddest-faced and loudest-mouthed of +the farmer-sons. + +"_You're_ the right sort, dominie!" he said, with a roar of laughter, +filling the tumbler until it ran over and into the pastor's cuffs. +Whereat the farmer laughed yet more uproariously. + +One of the four young men died a while ago of delirium tremens, and +not one of the other three has drawn a sober breath in years. The +parents are dead, the old farm is sold, and the brothers are all poor. +Rum has done it all. + +I do not imply that either of these scenes had any marked influence +upon the destiny of the slaves of appetite, except as they were +encouraged to pursue a course tacitly approved by the wise and good. +But I am thankful that I did not lend the weight of a straw to the +downward slide. "Woe unto him that putteth the cup to his neighbor's +lips!" says the Book of books. There might be subjoined, "Or helps to +hold it there when the neighbor's own hand has lifted it!" + +Had I my way, not one drop of intoxicating liquors should be sold, +except by druggists, and then only by a physician's prescription. +For--and here comes the answer to the second part of my querist's +appeal--I hold that pure brandy, wine and whiskey are of inestimable +value as medicine. I know that the judicious use of them as +restoratives has saved many lives. I know, too, how nearly worthless +they are where the system of the patient is used to them as daily or +frequent beverages. + +I hold, furthermore, that there is no sin or even danger--unless the +taste be already enkindled--in the occasional use of them in the +kitchen, as one would handle vanilla, lemon or bitter-almond flavoring +extracts. I do not believe that a single drunkard was ever made by the +tablespoonful of wine that goes into a half pint of pudding-sauce, or +the wineglassful that "brightens" a quart of jelly. Every house-mother +knows for whom she is catering. If one of her family or guests already +loves and craves the stimulant, it is prudent to omit it. The same man +would be tempted by the wine of the consecrated cup. When the disease +of inebriety has gone thus far she cannot save him, but she can look +to it that her hand does not give the final touch, which is death. + +I have written frankly, and I think temperately. I am not a "crank" +upon this--I hope not upon any subject. I am a temperance woman who +does not scruple to avow what is her practice, as well as her belief. +That thousands of better people than I will think my creed goes too +far, and as many that it stops short of temporal and spiritual safety, +ought not to trouble me. Upon the individual conscience lies the +responsibility of principle and action. Yet holding as I do that each +of us is his brother's keeper, I lift my hand in protest against the +crying sin of the age, and the mistaken toleration of good people with +that which leads to it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +FAMILY MUSIC. + + +Our grandfathers and our grandmothers were drilled in vocal music in +the church or neighboring singing-school. In that day--and for +twenty-five years later--almost every household possessed and made +frequent use of the Boston Academy, the Carmina Sacra, the Shawm and +other collections of vocal music adapted for the use of societies and +churches. Nearly everybody sang by note, and she was dull of ear or +wits who could not bear her part at sight in any simple church tune. +The pianoforte took the place of our grandmother's spinet and +harpsichord, and every girl in every family was taught to play upon it +after a fashion. She who had not taste or talent for music gave it up +after her marriage. In this particular she was no more derelict than +the "performer" of our times, whose florid flourish of classic music +costs thousands where her grandmother's strumming cost hundreds. + +The musical education of the girl of that period hardly deserved the +name. The national ear for music, like the national eye for painting +and sculpture, has made marvelous progress in fifty years. The singing +school has gone to the wall along with the volunteer choir and the +notion that every boy and girl can and ought to sing. Once in several +whiles you find a "music-mad family," of which every member plays upon +some instrument and studies music with expensive professors. Or one +child displays what relatives rate as musical genius, and is educated +to the full extent of the parent's ability. This done, the proficient +becomes, in his or her own opinion, a privileged prodigy. Critical +from the outset of his musical career, he grows intolerant of amateur +work and disdainful of such compositions as the (musically) unlearned +delight to honor. + +"Don't you suppose," said the late Mrs. Barrow (the dearly-beloved +"Aunt Fanny" of a host of little ones) to me at an evening +_musicale_, "that seven out of ten professed disciples of the Wagner +cult here present would, if they dared be unfashionable and honest, +ask for music that has a tune in it rather than that movement in +something flat or sharp to which they have seemed to give breathless +attention for the last fifteen minutes?" + +"A tune in it!" repeated a bystander in intense amusement. "Dear Mrs. +Barrow, tunes are musical tricks, not true art." + +This dogma, and others like unto it, are putting all our music-making +into the hands of professional artists and hushing the voice of song +and gladness in our homes. The one musician of the household is +accredited with perfect taste and unerring judgment, and usually +becomes a nuisance to his circle of acquaintances. He shudders at a +false note; the woman who sings sharp is an agony, the man who flats +is an anguish, and the mistakes of both are resented as personal +affronts. + +I know one girl (I wish I could stop at the singular number) who +cannot enjoy going to her own church because the choir does not come +up to her standard of perfection. She never sings in church herself. +To mingle her voice with the tide of thanksgiving and praise would be +like the crystal flash of the arrowy Rhone into the muddy Arve. She +sets her teeth while ignorant and unfeeling neighbors join in the +service of song, and confides on her way out of church to anybody who +will listen to her that she really thinks it a misfortune to have as +fine and true an ear as her own so long as people who do not know the +first principle of music _will_ persist in trying to sing. She has +many companions in the persuasion that this part of the worship of the +sanctuary should be left altogether to a trained and well-salaried +choir. In the family honored by her residence there is no home music +except of her making. There are, moreover, so many contingencies that +may deprive her expected audience of the rich privilege of hearkening +to the high emprise of her fingers and voice, that the chances are +oftentimes perilously in favor of her dying with all her music in her. + +Shall I ever forget, or rally from, the compassionate patronage with +which she, a week agone, met my petition for + + "When sparrows build and the leaves break forth?" + +"I never sing ballad music," she said, loftily. "Indeed I could not do +myself justice in anything this evening. I make it a matter of +conscience not to attempt a note unless I am in perfect tune +throughout--mentally, spiritually and physically. I should consider +it an offence against the noblest of arts were I to sing just because +somebody wishes to hear me." + +This is not entirely affectation. The tendency of her art-education +has been to make her disdainfully hypercritical. It has not awakened +the spirit of the true artist, who is quick to detect whatever +promises excellence and encourages the tyro to make the best of his +little talent. + +With all our newly-born enthusiasm for German composers, we have not +taken lessons from the German people in this matter of home music. We +do not even ask ourselves what has made them a musical nation. At the +risk of writing myself down a hopeless old fogy, I venture the opinion +that we were more nearly upon this track when the much-ridiculed +singing-school was in full swing and every child was taught the +intervals and variations of the gamut, and ballads were popular and +part-songs by amateurs a favorite entertainment for evenings at home, +than we are in this year of our Lord. The pews in that age united with +a volunteer choir in singing with the spirit and with the +understanding. The few may not have played their part as well as now, +but the many did their part better. In the family, Jane may have +surpassed her sisters in musical talent and proficiency, but one and +all knew something of that in which she excelled, enjoying her music +the more for that degree of knowledge. This brings forward another +argument for the musical education of the masses, large and small. It +would make general and genuine appreciation of good music, and put an +end to the specious pretences of which we spoke just now. The German +artisan's ear and voice are cultivated from childhood; his love of +music is intelligent, his enjoyment of it hearty, yet discriminating. + +Our babies hear few cradle songs under the new _regime_, except such +as are crooned, more or less tunelessly, by foreign nurses. Girls no +longer sing old ballads in the twilight to weary fathers and allure +restless brothers to pass the evening at home in innocent +participation in an impromptu concert, the boys bearing their part +with voice and banjo or flute. We did not make perfect music when +these domestic entertainments were in vogue, but we helped make happy +homes and clean lives. + +We used to sing--all of us together--upon the country porch on summer +nights, not disdaining "Nelly Was a Lady" and the "Old Kentucky Home," +and sea songs and love songs and battle songs that had thundering +choruses in which bassos told mightily. Moore was in high repute, and +Dempster and Bailey were in vogue. The words we sang were real +poetry, and so distinctly enunciated as to leave no doubt in the +listener's mind as to the language in which they were written. We had +not learned that tunes were musical tricks. Better still were the +Sunday evenings about the piano, everybody lending a helping (never +hindering) voice, from grandpapa's cracked pipe down to the baby's +tiny treble. Every morning the Lord of the home heard "our voices +ascending high" from the family altar, and in the nursery feverish or +wakefully-fretful children were lulled to health-giving slumber by the +mother's hymns. + +These are some of the bits of home and church life we would do well to +bring forward and add to the more intricate sum of to-day's living. +Granted, if you will, that we have outgrown what were to us the seemly +garments of that past. Before relegating them to the attic or +ragpicker, would it not be prudent and pleasant to preserve the laces +with which they were trimmed? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +FAMILY RELIGION. + + +We are living in an age of surprising inventions and marvelous +machinery. As a natural sequence, ours is an age of delegation. The +habit of doing nothing by hand that can be as well done by a machine +begets the desire to seek out new and presumably better methods of +performing every duty appointed to each of us. Fine penmanship is no +longer a necessity for the clerk or business man; skill with her +needle is not demanded of the wife and mother. Our kitchens bristle +with labor-saving implements warranted to reduce the scullion's and +cook's work to a minimum of toil. + +An important problem of the day, involving grave results, is founded +upon the fact that, with the countless multiplicity of Teachers' Helps +and Scholars' Friends, International Lesson Papers, Sunday-school +weeklies and quarterlies and the banded leagues of associated youth +whose watchword is "Christ and the Church," the children and young +people of to-day are, as a rule, less familiar with the text of Holy +Writ, with Bible history and the cardinal doctrines which the +Protestant Church holds are founded upon God's revealed Word than were +the children and youth of fifty years ago. Let me say here that I am +personally responsible for this statement and what is to follow it. +Having been a Bible-class teacher and an active worker in religious +and charitable societies for forty years, and numbering as I do +between twenty-five and thirty clergymen among my near kinsmen, I do +not speak idly or ignorantly upon this subject. My appeal for +corroboration of my testimony is to my contemporaries and co-workers. + +The superficiality and glitter that are the bane of modern methods of +education in our country have not spared sanctuary ordinances and +family religion. "The church which is in thy house" is an empty form +of speech when applied to a majority of so-called Christian homes. +Early trains and late dinners, succeeded by evening engagements, have +crowded out family prayers, and the pious custom, honored in all ages, +of "grace before meat," is in many houses disregarded, except when a +clergyman is at the table. Then the deferential bend of the host's +head in the direction of the reverend guest is rather a tribute to the +cloth than an acknowledgment of the Divine Giver to whom thanks are +due. In the olden days it was the pupil who studied the Sunday-school +lessons as needfully as he conned the tasks to be prepared for +Monday's schoolroom. The portion of the old Union Question Book +appointed for next Sunday was gone over under the mother's eye, the +references were looked up, the Bible Dictionary and Concordance +consulted. Then a Psalm or part of a chapter in the New Testament was +committed to memory, and four or five questions in the catechism were +added to the sum of knowledge to be inspected by the Sunday-school +teacher and "audited" by the superintendent. + +In writing the foregoing paragraph a scene arises before me of my +father's fine gray head and serious face as he sat at the head of the +room, Bible and reference books upon the stand before him; of the +dusky faces of the servants in the background, intent upon the reading +and exposition of the Word as they came from the lips of the master of +the household, who for the hour was also the priest. I hear much, +nowadays, of the "hard lines" that fell to the children of that +generation, in that they were drilled after the manner I have +described, and compelled to attend church twice or three times on +Sunday. I affirm fearlessly that we did not know how badly off we +were, and that the aforesaid "lines" seemed to our unsophisticated +imaginations to be cast to us in pleasant places. The hour devoted +each Sunday evening to the study of next Sunday's lesson was full of +interest, the prayer that preceded it and the two or three hymns with +which the simple service closed, gave it a solemnity that was delight, +not boredom. + +"Primitive methods" we call those studies now, and contemn, gravely or +jeeringly, the obsolete practice of "going through" the Bible yearly +by reading a given number of chapters every day. We assume that those +were mechanical contrivances which, at the best, filled the mind with +an undigested mass of Biblical matter and made sacred things trite. +They who censure or sneer take no exception to the story that +Demosthenes translated the works of Thucydides eight times, and also +committed them to memory, that his style might be informed with the +spirit and tone of his favorite exemplar. We cannot do away with the +pregnant truth that the Bible-reading child of 1845 so steeped +imagination and memory in the Holy Word that the wash of years and the +acids of doubt have never robbed him of it. The Psalms and gospels +then learned stay by us yet, responsive to the prick of temptation, +the stroke of sorrow, the sunlight of joy. When strongly moved we +unconsciously fall into Scriptural phraseology. God's promises then +learned are our song in the house of our pilgrimage. We do not +confound patriarchs with prophets, or passages from the epistles with +the Psalms of David. + +I am continually confronted by illustrations of the truth that the +"contract system" prevails in religious teaching as extensively as in +the manufacture of garments and food and furniture, and that the +results in all cases are the same. Machine work cannot compare in +neatness and durability with hand-made goods. The complaint, "I cannot +get my Bible class to study the lessons," is almost universal. I have +known large classes of adults to be made up with the express proviso +that none of the members should be expected to prepare the lesson. +Their appearance in the classroom at the stated hour fulfills their +part of the compact. In thus presenting themselves they "press the +button." The teacher does the rest. The mother, taking her afternoon +siesta, or reading her Sunday novel at home, rarely knows the subject +of the Bible lesson, much less what the teacher's treatment of it is. + +I do not mention the pastor purposely. Except when he sees them in the +Sunday-school, the faces of the children belonging (by courtesy) to +his cure of souls are seldom beheld by him. The Sunday-school +originally intended for the neglected children of the illiterate poor, +has come to be the chief instrumentality upon which well-to-do church +members depend for the spiritual upbuilding of those who are to form +the church of the future. If one is tempted to challenge the +assertion, let him compare the number of children (not infants) +enrolled in our Sunday-schools with those who habitually attend upon +divine service. The absence of the sunny, restless polls from the rows +of worshipers in the pews, the troops of boys and girls who wend +their way homeward at the conclusion of the Sunday-school exercises +are accounted for by so-called humane apologists by the plea that two +services in one day are burdensome to the little folk. And mothers +"enjoy the service far more when they are not disturbed by fidgety or +drowsy children." "Then, too, much of the sermon is unintelligible to +them. Why torture them by a mere form?" + +An old-fashioned clergyman--a visitor to a city church which I chanced +to attend last winter--prefaced his sermon, "as was his custom at +home," he said, by "a five-minute talk to the lambs of the fold." In +the congregation of at least 800 souls there were exactly three +"lambs" under fifteen years of age. It was impossible for the most +reverent of his hearers to help thinking of the solitary parishioner +who composed his pastor's congregation upon a stormy day, and objected +to the sermon dutifully delivered by the minister "as good, but too +personal." + +It is as impossible for the thoughtful student of the signs of the +times to avoid the conclusion that the growing disposition of the +young to deny the authority of the church and to supersede her stated +ordinances by organizations established and run by themselves may be +the legitimate fruit of the prominence given by their parents to what +should be the nursery of the church over the church itself. It would +be strange if, after witnessing for fourteen or fifteen years such +open and systematic disrespect of the gates of Zion, they were to +develop veneration for her worship and devout appreciation of the +mystic truth that this is the place where God's honor dwells. + +If--and the "if" is broad and deep and long--the little ones are +faithfully trained by the parents in the nurture and admonition of the +Lord (dear, quaint old phraseology, fine, subtle and pervasive as +lavender scent!), if sacred songs and Bible stories and tender talk of +the Saviour's love and the beautiful life of which this may be made a +type and a foretaste, keep in the minds of the little ones at home the +sanctity and sweetness of the day of days, there is a shadow of excuse +for the failure to make room for them in the family pew. Even then the +tree will grow as the twig is inclined. + +The mother whose knee is the baby's first altar, who gathers about her +for confession, for counsel and for prayer sons and daughters who +will, in older and sterner years, call her blessed for the holy +teachings of their childhood, will teach them to find, with her, the +tabernacles of the Lord of Hosts "amiable," _i.e._, worthy of all love +and fidelity. The chrism of motherhood consecrates a woman as a +priestess. Neither convenience nor custom can release her from the +office. Let not another take her crown. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +A PARTING WORD FOR BOY. + + +Upon the satin seat of a chair in the corner of the drawing-room, lie +six white Lima beans, and three small red-spotted apples. Wild fruit +they are, cast by a superannuated crab, spared by the woodman's axe +because it stands on the verge of the orchard. The apple-pickers never +look under it for gleanings. The beans were pulled from a frost-bitten +vine in the garden, and shelled with difficulty, the pods being tough, +and Boy's fingers tender. Both trophies secured, they were brought +into the house, deposited in the safest place Boy's ingenuity could +devise, and, alas! forgotten in the hurry of catching the "twain." +There was no room for them in Boy's long-suffering pockets. They +bulged to the bursting point with chestnuts, also the spoil of the +grasping little fingers. + +Boy is city-born and city-bred, and a day in the country is better +than a thousand in street and park. A day in the woods, when chestnuts +and walnuts hustle down with every breath of air, and the hollows are +knee-deep with painted leaves, has joys the eager tongue trips over +itself in the endeavor to recount. Boy and Boy's mother took the six +o'clock train to town last night. This morning, throwing open the +parlor blinds, I espy the six flat, white beans and the three +red-speckled crab-apples. They were so much to the owner; except for +the value imparted by association with the dancing blue eyes and the +tight clutch of fingers that had green stains on them when the wrestle +with the pods was over, they are so much more than worthless to +everybody else--that there is infinite pathos in the litter. It is +picturesque and poetic. + +There will be no poetry, picturesqueness or pathos in the litter when +Boy is older by a year or two. His leavings in outlandish places will +become "trash," and still later on "rubbish" and "hateful." At twelve +years of age he will be a "hulking boy," and convicted of bringing +more dirt into the house upon one pair of soles than three pairs of +hands can clean up. Eyes that fill now in surveying the tokens of his +recent occupations and his lordly disregard of conventionalities, will +flash petulantly upon books left, face downward, over night, on the +piazza floor; muddy shoes kicked into the corner of the hall; the +half-whittled cane and open knife on the sofa, and coats and caps +everywhere except upon the hooks intended for them. + +I once heard a grown-up beauty declare in the presence and hearing of +a half-grown brother, that, "every boy should be put under a barrel at +fourteen, and kept there until he was twenty, out of the sight of his +kindred and acquaintances." + +"Up to twenty-one he is an unmitigable nuisance!" concluded the belle, +with the vanity of one who has put the case smartly. + +The lad listened to the tirade without the twitch of a +muscle--stolidity that proved him to be well used to such flaying. +Three out of four boys in that family "turned out badly," and were +cried down by a scandalized community for disgracing a decent and +godly ancestry. Hearing this, I recollected the beauty and the barrel, +and speculated sadly whether or not this were the key to the enigma. + +It generally happens that the grown-up sister has less patience with +the growing brother than any other member of the household. From +principle and from inclination, and, I am inclined to add, from +nature, she "sits upon" Boy habitually. + +Ungrateful Lady Mary Wortley Montagu called her quondam lover, +Alexander Pope-- + + "A sign-post likeness of the human race: + That is, at once resemblance and disgrace." + +In her visions of the coming man, the sister resents the truth that +Boy belongs to the same species and sex, or persists in judging him by +this standard. In the "freshness" of his age and kind, he is skeptical +as to her good looks and other fascinations, and takes wicked +satisfaction in giving her to understand that he, at least, "is not +fooled by her tricks and manners." If her "nagging" is a thorn under +his jacket, his cool disdain is a grain of sand inside of her slipper. + +What looks like natural antipathy between big sisters and little +brothers is but one of several reasons why home is so often less like +home to the boys than to the rest of the family. + +I have in my mind's eye a distinct picture of the quarters allotted to +a promising college-lad in the mansion of a wealthy father, and which +I saw by accident. Each of the three accomplished sisters had her own +bed-chamber, fitted up according to her taste. A spacious sitting-room +on the second floor, with windows on the sunny front and at the side, +was common to the trio. There were flowers, workstands, desks, easels, +bookshelves, lounging and sewing chairs, pictures selected by each; +_portieres_ in the doorways and costly rugs upon the polished floor. +Up two flights of stairs, _on the same floor with the servants_, the +brother was domiciled in a low-browed, sunless back-room, overlooking +kitchen-yards and roofs. A dingy ingrain carpet was worn thin in +numerous places; no two pieces of furniture were even remotely related +to one another in style or age. The wall-paper hung here and there in +strips; the windows were dim with dirt; dust lay thickly in every +corner; a counterpane of dubious complexion had a dark, wide-spreading +stain in the centre. + +It is true, I admit, that the place reeked with stale cigar smoke, and +that the infirm table propped for security against the wall, groaned +under a collection of juvenile "properties," the heterogeneity of +which, defies my pen and memory. But, bestow a wild boy in such +lodgings as he might find in a low tavern, and he will treat them +accordingly. He is more observant than his mother imagines, and more +sensitive than his sisters would believe. Too proud to betray the +sense of humiliation engendered by appointments unsuited to his +station and education, he proceeds to be "comfortable" and "jolly" in +his own way. + +To return to our own Boy--who, my heart misgives me, lifted up his voice +and wept sore last night upon discovering that the hard-won beans and +scarlet-speckled apples were left behind--his loving mother has hung his +nursery walls with good engravings and artistically-colored pictures, in +the conviction that a child's taste for art is formed early and for +long. Heaven grant that she may keep true to this principle in all +matters pertaining to his upbringing, and in judicious dependence upon +the influence of external impressions upon the immature mind of her +offspring! + +Is our bigger boy, then, so rooted and grounded in right tastes and +right feeling as to be proof against the atmosphere of the +worst-located and worst-furnished room covered by his father's roof? +How far will the mother's assertion that he is the apple of her eye +and dearest earthly possession go, when balanced against the +object-lesson of quarters which are the household hospital of +incurables, in the line of beds, tables, stools and candlesticks? If +his sister's room is adorned with exquisite etchings and choice +paintings, while his is the refuge for chromos that have had their +day--will he not draw his own inferences? If his mother never climbs +to the sky-parlor to see that the careless housemaid does her duty in +sweeping, dusting and picking-up, does not he divine why his chamber +is systematically neglected? + +Many a shrewd fellow has marked the progress of an ageing or shabby +article of furniture, from the guest-chamber, through the family rooms +upward, until it settles for life, or good behavior, in his apartment, +and felt a dull pang at heart that he would not confess. Many another +fellow, as shrewd and more reckless, has flung out passionately at +what he construed into an insult, and made it the ostensible excuse +for resorting to places where the motto that "anything will do for the +boys," is unknown in practice. + +An English woman once commented to me upon the difference between our +manner of lodging and treating our sons and that which obtains in her +native land. "We behave to our boys as if they were princes of the +blood," she said, in her soft, sweet voice. "American girls are young +princesses at home and in society, and grace the position rarely well. +But--excuse me for speaking frankly--their brothers are sometimes +lodged like grooms." + +She was so far from wrong that I could not be displeased at the blunt +criticism. The just mean between the stations thus specified is +equality, and the firm maintenance of the same by the parents. Manners +and environment are apt to harmonize. To teach a boy not to be +slovenly and destructive in his own domain, give him a domain in +which he can feel the pride of proprietorship. He would like to invite +his comrades into his "den," as his sisters entertain intimate friends +in their boudoir. He may not put into words the reasons why, instead +of saying openly--"Come in and up!" to his evening visitor, he +whispers at the outer door, "Let us go out!" which too often means, +also, "down." Perhaps he is so imbued with the popular ideas +respecting the furnishment of his lodging-place as hardly to interpret +to himself his unwillingness to let outsiders see how well his "den" +deserves the name. + +Nevertheless, fond mother, give him the trial of something better. +Send the "incurables" to the auction room, and fit him out anew with +what should be the visible expression of your love and your desire for +his welfare. Why expect him to take these on trust any more than you +expect the daughters to do this? Yet their apartments are poems of +good-will and maternal devotion. + +In all sincerity, let me notify you that the son will not keep his +premises in such seemly array as the girls keep theirs. It is not in +the genuine boy. I question if a three-year-and-a-half-old +granddaughter would have chosen as a safe place of deposit for the +white beans and red-freckled apples the handsomest chair I have. You +will find your laddie's soiled collars in his waste-paper basket; his +slippers will depend from the corner of the picture you had framed for +him on his last birthday; his dress-suit will be crumpled upon his +wardrobe shelf, and his _chiffonier_ be heaped with a conglomeration +of foils, neckties, dead _boutonnieres_, visiting-cards, base-balls, +odd gloves, notebook, handkerchiefs, railway guides, emptied +envelopes, caramel papers, button hooks, fugitive verses, blacking +brushes, inkstand, hair brushes--the mother who reads this can +complete the inventory, if she has abundant patience, and time is no +object with her. + +Nevertheless, I repeat it--let him have his "den," and one in which he +can find more comfort and enjoyment than in any other haunt. We +mistake--the most affectionate of us--in attributing to our sons' +sensibilities the robustness or wiry insensitiveness that belongs to +their physical conformation. Timely gifts are not thrown away upon +them; each tasteful contribution to their well-being and happiness is +a seed set in good soil. + +A dear friend, in whose judgment I have put much faith, put it well +when she gave her reason for rectifying only the glaring disorders of +her boy's apartments while he was out of them, and letting the rest +go. + +"They must be clean and bright," she remarked, with tender +forbearance. "But I never meddle with his books and papers, or do +anything that will, in his opinion, mar the individuality of his +quarters. He likes to feel that they have the impress of himself, you +see. Rigid surveillance, or the appearance of it, would irk him. For a +long time it annoyed me that he preferred his imprint to mine. A pile +of pamphlets on the carpet within easy reach of his chair was a +grievance; his boxing gloves were an eyesore when left upon his table, +and he _might_ find some other place for his dumb-bells than the exact +middle of the room. Then, by degrees, I thought my way to the stable +verity whereupon I now rest, that _the boy is worth more than the +room_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +HOMELY, BUT IMPORTANT. + + +The French woman dresses herself with a view to pleasing the +cultivated eye. She consults her complexion, height, figure and +carriage, in color, make and trimming. Her apparel partakes of her +individuality. + +The American woman wears her clothes, as clothing, and has them made +up of certain materials and in various ways, because dressmakers and +fashion-plates prescribe what are this season's "styles." + +Dissimilarities as marked prevail in the cookery of the two nations. +Daintiness and flavor take the rank of other considerations with the +French cook; with the American,--_fillingness_! I can use no +substitute for the word that will convey the right idea. + +The human machine (of American manufacture) must be greased regularly +and plied with fuel or it will not go. And "go" is the genius of +American institutions. Cookery with us is means to an end; therefore, +as much a matter of economy of time and toil as building a road. +Almost every cottage has specimens of fine art on the walls in the +shape of pictures "done" by Jane or Eliza, or embroidery upon +lambrequin, _portiere_, or tidy. It occurs to Jane and Eliza as seldom +as to their fore-mothers, that cooking is an art in itself, that may +be "fine" to exquisiteness. In their eyes, it is an ugly necessity, to +be got over as expeditiously as "the men-folks" will allow, their +coarser natures demanding more and richer filling than women's. It +follows that dishes which require premeditation and deft manipulation +are unpopular. The scorn with which our middle class woman regards +soups, jellies, salads and _entrees_ is based upon prejudice that has +become national. Recipes marked--"Time from three to four hours," are +a feature of English cook-books. We American writers of household +manuals are too conversant with Jane's and Eliza's principles to +imperil their sale by what will be considered danger-signals. This +same desire to dispatch a disagreeable task increases in said manuals +the number of "Quick Biscuit," "Minute Muffins" and "Hasty Pudding" +recipes. + +Represent to the notable housewife who is scrupulous in saving +minutes, candle-ends and soap grease, that a few pounds of cracked +bones, a carrot, a turnip, an onion and a bunch of sweet herbs, +covered deep with cold water, and set at one side of the range on +washing-day, to simmer into soup stock, wastes neither time nor fuel +and will be the base of more than one or two nourishing dinners; +prove, by mathematical demonstration, that a mold of delicious +blanc-mange or Spanish cream or simpler junket costs less and can be +made in one-tenth of the time required for the leathery-skinned, sour +or faint-hearted pie, without which "father'n the boys wouldn't relish +their dinner;" that an egg and lettuce salad, with mayonnaise +dressing, is so much more toothsome and digestible than chipped beef +as a "tea relish," as to repay her for the few additional minutes +spent in preparing it--and her skeptical stare means disdain of your +interference, and complacent determination to follow her own way. + +She has heard that "country people in furren parts a'most live upon +slops and grass and eggs and frogs, and supposes that's the reason +Frenchmen are so small and dark-complected." She thanks goodness she +was born in America, "where there's plenty to eat and to spare," she +adds, piously, as she puts the chunk of salt pork on to boil with the +white beans, or the brisket of salt beef over the fire with the +cabbage, before mixing a batch of molasses-cake with buttermilk and +plenty of soda. + +The corner-stone of her culinary operations might have been cut from +the pillar into which another conservative woman with a will of her +own, was changed. It is solid salt. Salt pork, salt beef, salt fish, +relieve one another in an endless chain upon her board. She averts +scurvy by means of cabbage and potatoes. I know well-to-do farmers' +wives who do not cook what they call "butcher's meat," three times a +month, or poultry above twice a year. Dried and salt meat and fish +replenish what an Irish cook once described to me as "the _meat +corner_ of the stomach." + +"Half-a-dozen eggs wouldn't half fill it, mem;" she protested, in +defence of the quantity of steak and roast devoured daily +below-stairs. + +Our native housewife does not make the effort to crowd this cavity +with the product of her poultry yard. Eggs of all ages are marketable +and her pride in the limited number she uses in filling up her +household is comic, yet pathetic. Cream is the chrysalis of butter at +thirty cents a pound; to work so much as a tablespoonful into dishes +for daily consumption would be akin to the sinful enormity of lighting +a fire with dollar bills. She sends her freshly-churned, golden rolls +to "the store" in exchange for groceries, including _cooking butter_ +to be used in the manufacture of cake and pastry. + +These she _must_ have. Appetites depraved by fats--liquid, solid and +fried--crave the assuasives of sweets and acids. "Hunky" +bread-puddings and eggless, faintly-sweetened rice puddings, and pies +of various kinds, represent dessert. Huge pickles, still smacking of +the brine that "firmed" them, are offered in lieu of fresher acids. +Yet she sneers at salads, and would not touch sorrel soup to save a +Frenchman's soul. For beverages she stews into rank herbiness cheap +tea by the quart, and Rio coffee, weak and turbid, with plenty of +sugar in both. Occasionally the coffee is cleared (!) with a bit of +salt fish skin. I was told by one who always saved the outside skin of +codfish, after soaking it for fish balls, for clearing her coffee, +that, "it gives a kind of _bright_ taste to it; takes off the +flatness-like, don't you know?" We raise more vegetables and in +greater variety than any other people; have better and cheaper fruits +than can be procured in any other market upon the globe; our waters +teem with fish (unsalted) that may be had for the catching. Yet our +national _cuisine_--take it from East to West and from North to +South--is the narrowest as to range, the worst as to preparation, and +the least wholesome of any country that claims an enlightened +civilization. + +Properly fried food once in a while is not to be condemned, as the +grease does not have a chance to "soak in." But when crullers or +potatoes or fritters are dropped into warm (not hot) lard, and allowed +to remain there until they are oily and soggy to the core, we may with +accuracy count on at least fifteen minutes of heartburn to each +half-inch of the fried abominations. + +Perhaps there is nothing in which we slight the demands of Nature more +than in _what and how we eat_. Chewing stimulates the salivary glands +to give out secretions to aid in disposing of what we eat. We swallow +half-chewed food, thus throwing undue labor on the stomach. It is +impossible for the work of disgestion to be carried on in the stomach +at a temperature of less than one hundred degrees. Yet, just as that +unfortunate organ begins its work we pour into it half-pints of iced +water. We add acid to acid by inordinate quantities of sugar, and +court dyspepsia by masses of grease. If we thus openly defy all her +laws, can we wonder if the kind but just mother calls us to account +for it? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +FOUR-FEET-UPON-A-FENDER. + + +It is the sisterly heart rather than the author's fancy that gives me +as a companion in this, the last of these "Familiar Talks," the +typical American house-mother. + +Whatever the alleged subject discussed in former chapters--and each +has borne more or less directly upon the leading theme, old yet never +trite,--THE SECRET OF A HAPPY HOME,--I have had in heart and +imagination this thin, nervous, intense creature whom I seat beside +me. Her own hands have made her neat; the same hands and far more care +than ever goes to the care of herself make and keep her home neat and +comfortable. + +The dying Queen of England gasped that after her death there would be +found stamped upon her heart the name of the Calais lost to her +kingdom in her reign. Our housewife carries her household forever +bound upon her heart of hearts. The word is the hall mark upon every +endeavor and achievement. It would be a poor recompense for a life of +patient toil to convince her that she has wrought needlessly; that the +same energy devoted to other objects would have made a nobler woman of +her and the world better and happier. Nor am I sure that in a majority +of instances this would be true. On the contrary, I hold religiously +to the belief that God had wise reasons for setting each one of us in +the socket in which she finds herself. "Be more careful," says an old +writer, "to please Him perfectly than to serve Him much." If there are +tasks which you, my sister, cannot demit without inconveniencing those +whose welfare is your especial care, take this as a sure proof that +the Father, in laying this work nearest to your hand--and not to that +of another--has called you to it as distinctly as He called Paul to +preach and Peter to glorify his Lord by the death he was to die. + +In the talk we hold with our four feet upon the fender, the fire-glow +making other light unnecessary, I do not propose to enter upon the +favorite theme with some, of what you might have done had +circumstances been propitious to the assumption of what are rated as +more dignified duties. We will take your life as it is, and see what +the practice of the inward grace I shall designate can make of it. + +You are inclined to be down-hearted upon anniversaries. You need not +tell me what I know so well of myself. Another year has gone, another +year has dawned, and you are in the same old rut of ordering and +cooking meals and clearing up after they have been eaten, sweeping, +dusting, making and mending clothes, washing, dressing and training +children, and the thousand and one nameless tasks that fritter away +strength, leaving nothing to show for the waste. + + "God help us on the common days, + The level stretches white with dust!" + +prays Margaret Sangster. You would cry out in the pain of +retrospection and anticipation, that all the days of the years of your +life are common days--"only that and nothing more." + +If this be so, you need the Help none ever seek in vain more than +those to whom varied and exciting scenes are alloted. + +The angel of death who had said upon entering the plague-stricken city +that he meant to kill ten thousand people, was accused on the way out +of having slain forty thousand. + +"I kept my word," he answered. "I killed but ten thousand. Fear killed +the rest!" + +If work slays thousands of American women, American worry slays her +tens of thousands. Work may bend the back and stiffen the joints. It +ploughs no furrows in brow and cheek; it does not hollow the eyes and +drag all the facial muscles downward. These are misdeeds of +worry--your familiar demon, and the curse of our sex everywhere. A +good man--who, by the way, had a pale, harassed-looking wife--once +told me that on each birthday and New Year's he retired to his study +and spent some time behind the locked door in making good resolutions +for the coming year. + +"I may not keep them all," he said, ingenuously, "but the exercise of +forming them is edifying." + +With the thought of his wan and worried wife in mind, I shocked him by +declining for my part to undertake such a big contract as resolutions +for a year, a month or a week. If I live to a good old age, I shall +owe the blessing in a great measure to the discovery, years ago, that +I am hired not by the job, but by the day. If you, dear friend, will +receive this truth into a good and honest heart, and believing, abide +in and live by it, you will find it the very elixir of life to your +spirit. + +Come down from the pillar of observation. You might enact Simeon +Stylites there for twenty years to come and be none the wiser or +happier for the outlook. Refuse obstinately to take the big contract. +Let each morning and evening be a new and complete day. In childlike +simplicity live as if you were to have no to-morrow so far as worrying +as to its possible outcome goes. Make the best of to-day's _in_come. +Not one minute of to-morrow belongs to you. It is all God's. Thank him +that His hands hold it, and not your feeble, uncertain fingers. + +Longfellow wrote nothing more elevating and helpful than his sonnet to +"To-morrow, the Mysterious Guest," who whispers to the boding human +soul: + + "'Remember Barmecide, +And tremble to be happy with the rest.' + And I make answer, 'I am satisfied. +I know not, ask not, what is best; + God hath already said what shall betide.'" + +The new version of the New Testament, among other richly suggestive +readings, tells us that Martha was "_distracted_ with much serving," +and that we are not to be "anxious for the morrow; for the morrow will +be anxious for itself." That is, it will bring its own proper load of +labor and of care, from which you have no right to borrow for to-day's +uses; which you cannot diminish by the same process. + +George MacDonald puts this great principle aptly: + +"You have a disagreeable duty to do at twelve o'clock. Do not blacken +nine, and ten and eleven with the color of twelve. Do the work of +each and reap your reward in peace." + +One woman makes it her boast that she never sets bread for the morning +that she does not lie awake half the night wondering how it will "turn +out." She is so besotted in her ignorance as to think that the useless +folly proves her to be a person of exquisite sensibility, whereas it +testifies to lack of self-control, common sense and economical +instincts. + +It was old John Newton who likened the appointed tasks and trials of +men to so many logs of wood, each lettered with the name of the day of +the week, and no single one of them too heavy to be borne by a mortal +of ordinary strength. If we will persist; he went on to say, in adding +Tuesday's stick to Monday's, and Wednesday's and Thursday's and +Friday's to that marked for Tuesday, "it is small wonder that we sink +beneath the burden." + +Our Heavenly Father would have us carry one stick at a time, and for +this task has regulated our systems--mental, moral and spiritual. We, +like the presumptuous bunglers that we are, bind the sticks into +faggots, and then whine because our strength gives out. + +The lesson of unlearning what we have practiced so long is not easy, +but it may be acquired. In your character as day laborer, sift +carefully each morning what belongs to to-day from that which may come +to-morrow. Be rigid with yourself in this adjustment. If you find the +weight beginning to tell upon bodily or mental muscles, ask your +reason, as well as your conscience, whether or not the strain may not +be from to-morrow's log. + +For example: You have a servant who suits you, and whom you had hoped +you suited. She is quiet to-day, with a pre-occupied look in her eye +that may mean CHANGE. + +As a housekeeper you will sustain me in the assertion that the portent +suffices to send the thermometer of your spirits down to "twenty +above," if not "ten below." Instead of brooding over the train of +discomforts that would attend upon the threatened exodus, bethink +yourself that since Norah cannot go without a week's warning you have +nothing to-day to do with possibilities of a morrow that is seven +times removed, _and put the thing out of your mind_. + +In the italicized passage lies the secret of a tranquil soul. Learn by +degrees to acquire power over your own imagination. By-and-by you will +be surprised to find that you have formed a habit of reining it when +it would presage disaster. It is not getting ready for house-cleaning +to-day that terrifies you so much as the fancy that with the morrow +will begin the actual scrubbing and window-washing. You do not mind +ripping up an old gown while John reads to you under the evening lamp, +but you are positively cross in the reflection that you must sew all +of to-morrow with the seamstress who is to put the gown together +again. + +I may have told elsewhere the anecdote of the pious negro who was +asked what he would do if the Lord were to order him to jump through a +stone wall. + +"I'd gird up my lines (loins) an' go at it!" said Sam, stoutly. "Goin' +_at_ it is my business; puttin' me _troo_ is de Lord's!" + +The story is good enough to be repeated and called to mind many times +during the day, which is absolutely all of life with which we have to +do. + +Try the principle--and the practice--recommended in this simple +heart-to-heart talk, dear sister. The habit of living by the day, +rooted in faith in Him who guarantees grace for that time, and pledges +no more, is better than the philosopher's stone. The peace it brings +is deep-seated and abides, for it is founded upon a sure mercy and a +certain promise. + +FAREWELL! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Secret of a Happy Home (1896) +by Marion Harland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF A HAPPY HOME (1896) *** + +***** This file should be named 16800.txt or 16800.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/0/16800/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Marilynda +Fraser-Cunliffe, (no name), Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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