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diff --git a/40263-8.txt b/40263-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ec4c342..0000000 --- a/40263-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8826 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Folly as It Flies, by Fanny Fern - -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: Folly as It Flies - Hit At - -Author: Fanny Fern - -Release Date: July 17, 2012 [EBook #40263] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOLLY AS IT FLIES *** - - - - -Produced by sp1nd, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - FOLLY AS IT FLIES; - - _HIT AT_ - - BY - FANNY FERN. - - - NEW YORK: - G. W. CARLETON & CO. PUBLISHERS. - LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. - MDCCCLXVIII. - - - - - Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by - - G. W. CARLETON & CO., - - in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, - for the Southern District of New York - - - LOVEJOY, SON & CO., - ELECTROTYPERS & STEREOTYPERS, - 15 Vandewater Street, N. Y. - - - - - To - - MY FRIEND - - Robert Bonner, - - EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK LEDGER. - - - _For fourteen years, the team of Bonner and Fern, has trotted - over the road at 2.40 pace, without a snap - of the harness, or a hitch of the - wheels.--Plenty of oats, and - a skilful rein, the - secret._ - - - - - PREFACE. - - - _Yours Truly_, - - FANNY FERN. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - DISCOURSE UPON HUSBANDS 11 - - GRANDMOTHER'S CHAT ABOUT CHILDREN 33 - - WOMEN AND THEIR DISCONTENTS 50 - - WOMEN AND SOME OF THEIR MISTAKES 68 - - NOTES UPON PREACHERS AND PREACHING 88 - - BRIDGET AS SHE WAS, AND BRIDGET AS SHE IS 103 - - A CHAPTER ON TOBACCO 118 - - GIVE THE CONVICTS A CHANCE 127 - - A GLANCE AT WASHINGTON 133 - - GLIMPSES OF CAMP LIFE 142 - - UNWRITTEN HISTORY OF THE WAR 151 - - MY SUMMERS IN NEW ENGLAND 163 - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK 182 - - SOME THINGS IN NEW YORK 188 - - WORKING GIRLS OF NEW YORK 219 - - WASHING THE BABY 230 - - CHILDREN HAVE THEIR RIGHTS 232 - - MOURNING 240 - - TO YOUNG GIRLS 244 - - A LITTLE TALK WITH THE OTHER SEX 253 - - A CHAPTER ON MEN 269 - - LITERARY PEOPLE 274 - - SOME VARIETIES OF WOMEN 280 - - MISTAKES ABOUT OUR CHILDREN 295 - - THOUGHTS OF SOME EVERY DAY TOPICS 312 - - A TRIP TO THE NORTHERN LAKES 328 - - - - -FOLLY AS IT FLIES. - - - - -_A DISCOURSE UPON HUSBANDS._ - - -I wish every husband would copy into his memorandum book this -sentence, from a recently published work: "_Women must be constituted -very differently from men. A word said, a line written, and we are -happy; omitted, our hearts ache as if for a great misfortune. Men -cannot feel it, or guess at it; if they did, the most careless of them -would be slow to wound us so._" - -The grave hides many a heart which has been stung to death, because -one who might, after all, have loved it after a certain careless -fashion, was deaf, dumb, and blind to the truth in the sentence we -have just quoted, or if not, was at least restive and impatient with -regard to it. Many men, marrying late in life, being accustomed only -to take care of _themselves_, and that in the most erratic, rambling, -exciting fashion, eating and drinking, sleeping and walking whenever -and wherever their fancy, or good cheer and amusement, questionable or -unquestionable, prompted; come at last, when they get tired of this, -with their selfish habits fixed as fate, to--matrimony. For a while it -is a novelty. Shortly, it is strange as irksome, this always being -obliged to consider the comfort and happiness of another. To have -something always hanging on the arm, which _used_ to swing free, or at -most, but twirl a cane. Then, they think their duty done if they -provide food and clothing, and refrain (possibly) from harsh words. -Ah--_is it_? Listen to that sigh as you close the door. Watch the -gradual fading of the eye, and paling of the cheek, not from age--she -should be yet young--but that gnawing pain at the heart, born of the -settled conviction that the great hungry craving of her soul, as far -as you are concerned, must go forever unsatisfied. God help such -wives, and keep them from attempting to slake their souls' thirst at -poisoned fountains. - -_Think_, you, her husband, how little a kind word, a smile, a caress -to _you_, how much to _her_. If you call these things "childish" and -"beneath your notice," then you should never have married. There are -men who should remain forever single. You are one. You have no right -to require of a woman her health, strength, time and devotion, to mock -her with this shadowy, unsatisfying return. A new bonnet, a dress, a -shawl, a watch, anything, everything but what a _true_ woman's heart -most craves--sympathy, appreciation, love. She may be rich in -everything else; but if she be poor in these, and is a _good_ woman, -she had better die. - -There are hard, unloving, cold monstrosities of women, (rare -exceptions,) who neither require love, nor know how to give it. We are -not speaking of these. That big-hearted, loving, noble men have -occasionally been thrown away upon such, does not disprove what we -have been saying. But even a man thus situated has greatly the -advantage of a woman in a similar position, because, over the needle a -woman may think herself into an Insane Asylum, while the active, -out-door turmoil of business life is at least a _sometime_ reprieve to -_him_. - -Do you ask me, "Are there no happy wives?" God be praised, yes, and -glorious, lovable husbands, too, who know how to treat a woman, and -would have her neither fool nor drudge. Almost every wife would be a -good and happy wife, _were she only loved enough_. Let husbands, -present and prospective, think of this. - - * * * * * - -"Now, I am a clerk, with eight hundred dollars salary, and yet my wife -expects me to dress her in first-class style. What would you advise me -to do--leave her?" - -These words I unintentionally overheard in a public conveyance. I went -home, pondering them over. "Leave her!" Were _you_ not to blame, sir, -in selecting a foolish, frivolous wife, and expecting her to confine -her desires, as a sensible woman ought, and would, within the limits -of your small salary? Have _you, yourself_, no "first-class" expenses, -in the way of rides, drinks and cigars, which it might be well for -you to consider while talking to her of retrenchment? Did it ever -occur to you, that under all that frivolity, which you admired in the -maid, but deplore and condemn in the wife, there may be, after all, -enough of the true woman, to appreciate and sympathize with a _kind, -loving_ statement of the case, in its parental as well as marital -relations? Did it ever occur to you, that if you require no more from -_her_, in the way of self-denial, than you are willing to endure -_yourself_--in short, if you were _just_ in this matter, as all -husbands are _not_--it might bring a pair of loving arms about your -neck, that would be a talisman amid future toil, and a pledge of -co-operation in it, that would give wings to effort? And should it not -be so immediately--should you encounter tears and frowns--would you -not do well to remember the hundreds of wives of drunken husbands, -who, through the length and breadth of the land, are thinking--_not_ -of "_leaving_" them, but how, day by day, they shall more patiently -bear their burden, toiling with their own feeble hands, in a woman's -restricted sphere of effort, to make up their deficiencies, closing -their ears resolutely to any recital of a husband's failings, nor -asking advice of aught save their own faithful, wifely hearts, "_what -course they shall pursue_?" - -And to all young men, whether "clerks" or otherwise, we would say, if -you marry a humming-bird, don't expect that marriage will instantly -convert it into an owl; and if you have caught it, and caged it, -without thought of consequences, don't, like a coward, shrink from -your self-assumed responsibility, and turn it loose in a dark wood, to -be devoured by the first vulture. - - * * * * * - -The other day I read in a paper, "Wanted--board for a young couple." -What a pity, I thought, that they should begin life in so unnatural -and artificial a manner! What a pity that in the sacredness of a home -of their own, they should not consecrate their life-long promise to -walk hand in hand, for joy or for sorrow! What a pity that the sweet -home-cares which sit so gracefully on the young wife and housekeeper, -should be waved aside for the stiff etiquette of a public table or -drawing-room! What a pity that the husband should not have a "_home_" -to return to when his day's toil is over, instead of a "room," as in -his lonely bachelor days! - - * * * * * - -"Oh, you little rascal" said a young father doubling up his fist at -his first baby, as it lay kicking its pink toes upon the bed; "oh, you -little rascal, precious little attention have I had from your mamma -since _you_ came to town. I don't know but I am very sorry you are -here." - -Now, this is a subject upon which I have thought a great deal, and -often wished I had wisdom to write about. It is a very nice point for -a young wife to settle rightly--the respective claims of the helpless -little baby, and those of the young husband, who has hitherto been the -sole recipient of her caresses and care. The cry of that little baby -is painful to him. He has not yet adjusted himself to the position of -a father. It is a nice little creature, of course; but why need _she_ -be so much in the nursery and so little in the parlor? Why can't she -delegate the washing, and dressing, and getting-to-sleep, to a nurse, -and go about with _him_, as she used before it came. It is very dull -to sit alone, waiting until all these processes have been gone -through; and, beside, it is plain to see that, when he does wait till -then, her vitality is so nearly exhausted that she has very little -left to entertain him, or to go abroad for entertainment; and if she -does the latter, she is so fearful that something may go wrong with -that experimental first baby in her absence, that her anxiety becomes -contagious, and _his_ pleasure is spoiled. - -Now, to begin with: it takes two years for a young married couple to -adjust themselves to their new position. "_His_ mother never fussed -that way over _her_ babies, and is not _he_ a living example of the -virtue of neglect?" Now "_her_ mother preferred to do just as _she_ is -doing, and thought any other course heartless and unnatural, at least -while the baby is so very little." Now stop a bit, my dears, or you -never will get beyond that milestone on your journey. You have got, -both of you, to drop your respective mothers, as far as quoting their -practice is concerned. Never mention them to one another, if you can -possibly keep your mouths shut on their superior virtues, when you -wish to settle any such question; because it will always remain true, -to the end of time, that a husband's relations, like the king, can do -no wrong, though they may be in the constant practice of doing that in -their own families, which they consider highly improper in yours. - -Now, do you and John--I suppose his name is John--two-thirds of the -men are named John, and the Johns are always great strapping -fellows--do you and John just paddle your own canoe, as they do. It is -yours, isn't it? Well, steer it, day by day, by the light you have, as -well as you know how. Mind that _you_ both pull together; shut down -outside interference, which is the cause of two-thirds of the -unhappiness of the newly married, and you will be certain to do well -enough, _at last_. - -When a clergyman comes to a new congregation, or a school-teacher to -an untried school--when a new business partner enters a firm--nobody -expects things to go right immediately, without a hitch or two, till -matters adjust themselves. It is only in the cases of newly converted -persons, or the newly married, that people insist upon human nature -becoming immediately, and instantaneously, sublimated and fit for -heaven. Now in both cases, as I take it, time must be given, as in the -other relations, for assimilation. - -This point being conceded,--and I am supposing, my dear reader, that -you are not quite a natural fool,--why should you or the young couple -consider the whole thing a failure, merely because this process -cannot be accomplished in a day and without a few mistakes, any more -than in the cases above cited? - -But we have left that little experimental first baby kicking too long -on the bed--it is time we return to him. Now, I am very sorry that -John said what he did to that young mother, even "in joke." _She_ knew -well enough that he meant two-thirds of it. She is not quite strong -yet either, for the baby is but three months old; and it is very true -that it does cry a great deal; and though _she_ don't mind it, John -does; and really, she can't leave it much with a nurse, while it is so -very little. And yet, it _is_ dull for John to sit alone in the parlor -while she is soothing it; and what _shall_ she do? That's just -it,--what _shall_ she do? She really gets in quite a nervous tremble, -when it is time for him to come home--what with hoping baby will be on -its good behavior, and fearing that it may not. Not that, for one -instant, she has ever been sorry that she was a mother--oh no, no! You -may burn her flesh with a red-hot iron, and you can never make her say -that. God forbid! - -Now, John, if your little wife loves her baby like that, is not it a -proof that you have chosen a wife wisely and well? and are you not -willing to face like a man--I _should_ say, like a woman,--the petty -disagreeables which are consequent upon the initiatory life of the -little creature in whose veins flows your own blood? Surely, you -cannot answer me no. When you married, you did not expect to live a -bachelor's life. If you did, then I have nothing more to say. I shall -pay that compliment to your manhood to suppose, that you did not so -deceive the young girl, who trusted her future in your hands, and that -you did not expect that _she alone_ was to practice the virtue of -self-abnegation. - -Well, then, be patient with the wife who is so well worthy of your -sympathy and co-operation, in this, her conscientious attempt to bring -up rightly the first baby. When the next comes, and I know you will -have a next, or your name isn't John, she will not be so anxious. She -will not think it will die, every time it has the stomach-ache. But at -present it is cruel in you to say those things which distress her, -even "in joke," because, as I tell you, she is trying faithfully to -settle these important questions, which take time for each of you to -decide, so that you may not wrong the other. _Help_ her do it. Soothe -her when she is nervous and weary. _Love_ that little baby, though at -present it does not even smile at you. If you can't love it, _make -believe love it_, till the little thing knows enough to know you. Do -it for _her_ sake, who has earned your tenderest cherishing as the -mother of your child. _Begin_ right. Know that whatsoever people may -say, _that Love and Duty are all there is of life_. Out of these two -grow all the pleasure and happiness mortals can find this side of the -grave. So, John, don't wear out your boots trudging round elsewhere to -find them, for it will be a miserable failure. - - * * * * * - -I think every woman will agree with me, that it is perfectly -astonishing the "muss" (to use a New Yorkism) which a male pair of -hands can make in your room in the short space of five minutes. You -have put everything in that dainty order, without which you could not, -for the life of you, accomplish any work. There is not a particle of -dust on anything, in sight, or out of sight--which last is quite as -important. All your little pet things are in the right location; -pictures plumb on the wall, work-box and ink-stand tidy and within -hail. Mr. Smith comes in. He wants "a bit of string." Mr. Smith is -always wanting a bit of string. Mr. Smith says kindly (good fellow) -"don't get up, dear, I'll find it." That's just what you are afraid of, -but it won't do to say so; so you sit still and perspire, while Mr. -Smith looks for his "bit of string." First, he throws open the door of -the wrong closet, and knocks down all your dresses, which he catches up -with irreverent haste, and hangs in a heap on the first peg. Then he -says (innocently,) "Oh--h--I went to the wrong closet, didn't I?" Then -he proceeds to the right closet, and finds the "bit of string." In -taking it down he catches it on the neck of a phial. Down it comes -smash--with the contents on the floor. Mr. Smith says "D--estruction!" -in which remark you fully coincide. Then Mr. Smith wants a pair of -scissors to cut his "bit of string;" so he goes to your work-box, which -he upsets, scattering needles, literally at "sixes and sevens," all -over the floor, mixed with bodkins, spools, tape, and torment only -knows what. He gathers them up at one fell swoop, and ladles them back -into the box, in a manner peculiarly and eminently masculine; and asks -if--the--hinge--of--the--lid--of--that--box--was--broken--before, or if -"_he_ did it." As if the rascal didn't know! But of course you tell the -old fib, that it had been loose for some time, and that it was no -manner of consequence; all the while devoutly hoping that this might be -the last mischance. Not a bit of it. "He thinks he will take a little -brandy to set him right." So he uncorks the bottle on the spotless -white toilet-cover of your bureau, spills the brandy all over it, -powders the sugar on the covers of a nice book, and lays the sticky -spoon on a nice lace collar that has just been "done up." Then he -uncorks your cologne-bottle to anoint his smoky whiskers, and sets down -the bottle, leaving the cork out. Then he takes up your gold bracelet -and tries it on his wrist, "to see if it will fit." The "_fit_" need I -say, is _not_ in the bracelet--the fastening of which he breaks. Then -he throws up the window, "to see what sort of a day it is;" and over -goes a vase of flowers, which you have been arranging with all the -skill you were mistress of, to display the perfection of each blossom. -He looks at the vase, and says, "Miserable thing! it was always -ricketty; I must buy you a better one, dear," which you devoutly hope -he will do, though a long acquaintance with that gentleman's habits -does not authorize you in it. Then Mr. Smith goes to the glass and -takes a solemn survey of his beard. Did you ever notice the difference -between a man's and a woman's way of looking in the glass? It is -wonderfully characteristic! Woman perks her head on one side saucily -and well pleased like a bird; man strides in a lordly, dignified way up -to it as if it were a very _petty_ thing for him to do, but meantime -he'd like to catch that glass saying that he is not a fine-looking -fellow! Well--Mr. Smith takes a solemn survey of his beard, which he -fancies "needs clipping," and takes your sharpest and best pair of -scissors, for the wiry operation; the stray under-brush meanwhile -falling wheresoever it best pleases the laws of gravitation to send it. -Then Mr. Smith, says, "Really, dear, this is such a pleasant room, one -hates to leave it, but--alas! business--business." - -"_Business!_" I should think so--business enough, to put that room to -rights, for the next three hours! - - * * * * * - -Did you ever hear an old maid talk about matrimony, or a girl who was -trembling on the brink of old-maidism, and feared to launch away? If -there is anything that effectually disgusts a married woman, it is -that. What can an old maid know about such things? As well might I -write an agricultural and horticultural description of a country by -looking on a map. What pitying compassion she has for married men, -every one of whom is victimized because he did not select _her_ to -make him "the happiest of men"--I believe that is the expression of a -lover when on his suppliant knees; if not, I stand ready to be -corrected--by anybody but an old maid. With what a languishing sigh -she marvels that Mrs. Jones could ever be so criminal, as to neglect -to sew on an ecstatic shirt-button for such a man as Jones; for whom -it would be glory enough to hold a shaving-box while he piled on the -soap-suds, which is her particular element. What a shame that Jones -cannot stifle his own baby, if he feels like it, by smoking in its -face, and leave his boots, and coat, and vest on the parlor floor, if -he takes a fancy to do it. - -Ah--had Jones but a different wife! (And here imagine a sigh which, -for depth and pro-_fun_-dity, none but a sentimental old maid on the -anxious-seat can heave.) What pleasure to black his boots for him of a -morning; to get up in the middle of the night, and cook a tenderloin -beefsteak; to prove her devotion by standing on the front doorstep, -with chattering teeth, in a cold northeaster, waiting for the dear -coat to come home; to hang up his dear hat for him, to put away his -dear cane, to take him up gently with the sugar-tongs, and lay him on -the sofa till tea was ready, and then feed him like a sweet little -bird, bless his shirt-buttons! - -How hot his toast should always be; how strong his tea and coffee; how -sweet his puddings; how mealy his potatoes; how punctually his clean -shirt should be taken out of his drawer for him to put on; how sweetly -his handkerchief should be cologn-ed with her own cologne, and his -cigar-case magnanimously placed by her own hands in his dear little -side-pocket, and how it should be the study of her life to find out -when he wanted to sneeze, and arrest a sunbeam for the purpose. - -Do you know what I wish? - -That all the die-away old maids, who go sighing through creation with -a rose-leaf to their noses, lecturing married women, and sniveling for -their little privileges, had but one neck, and that some muscular -coat-sleeve, equal to the occasion, would give them one satisfying -hug, and stop their nonsense. - - * * * * * - -I never witnessed an execution; but I saw a man the other day, married -he surely was, trying to select a lace collar from out a dainty cobweb -heap, sufficiently perplexing even to a practised female eye. The -clumsy way he poised the gauzy things on his forefinger, with his head -askew, trying to comprehend their respective merits! The long, weary -sigh he drew, as the shopman handed him new specimens. The look of -relief with which he heard _me_ inquire for lace collars, saying, as -plain as looks could say, "Ah! now, thank Heaven, I shall have a -woman's view of the subject!" The _disinterested_ manner in which, -with this view, he pushed a stool forward for me to sit down, to watch -upon which collar my eye fell complacently, all the while turning over -_his_ heap in the same idiotic way. Oh, it was funny! Of course, I -kept him on the anxious seat a little while, persistently holding my -tongue, the better to enjoy his dilemma. Didn't he fidget? - -At length, fearful he might rush out for strychnine, I spake. I -descanted upon shape, and texture, and pattern, and upon the -probability of their "doing up" well, to all of which my rueful knight -listened like a criminal who scents a reprieve. Then I made my -selection; then he chose two exactly like mine, before you could wink, -and with a sublime gratitude, refused to let the shopman consider the -bill that was fluttering in his gloved fingers, "till he had made -change for the lady." We understood each other, for there are cases in -which words are superfluous. No doubt his wife thought his taste in -collars was excellent. - - * * * * * - -Men have _one_ virtue; for instance: How delicious is their blunt, -honest frankness toward each other, in their every-day intercourse, -(politicians excepted,) in contrast with the polite little subterfuges, -which form the basis of women-friendships. When one man goes to make a -man-call on another, he talks when he pleases, and puts up his heels, -and _don't_ talk when he don't please. He is free to take a nap, or to -take a book; and his host is as free, when he has had enough of him, or -has any call away, to put on his hat and go out to attend to it: nor -does the caller feel himself aggrieved. Now a woman's nose, under -similar circumstances, would be up in the air a month, with the -"slight" her female friend had put upon her. The more a woman _don't_ -want her friend to stay, the more she is bound to urge her to do it; -and to ask her why she hadn't called before; and to wish that she might -never go away, and all that sort of thing. What she remarks to her -husband in private about it, afterward, is a thing you and I have -nothing to do with. When two men meet, after a long absence, ten to one -the first salutation is, "Old boy, how ugly you've grown." In the -female department we reverse this. "I never saw you look prettier," -being the preface to the aside--(what a fright she has become). -Then--("blest be the tie that binds")--mark one man meet another in the -street--light his cigar at that other's nose, and pass on--without -knowing the important fact, whether he lives in "a brown-stone front" -or not. How instructive the free-and-easy-and-audacious-manner in -which, after this ceremony, they go their several ways to their -tombstones, without a spoken word. See them in the streets, my sisters, -exchanging passing remarks on any object of momentary street-interest, -looking over one another's shoulders at each other's "extras," all the -same as if they had been introduced in an orthodox Grundy fashion. - -See them walk boldly up to a looking-glass, in a show window, and -honestly stare at their ridiculous solemn selves, whereas, you women, -pretend to be examining something else, when you are bent on a like -errand, intent on smoothing your ruffled feathers. - -The other day, in an omnibus, a man took a seat near the door, and not -willing to step across the ladies' dresses, "nudged" a man above him -to hand up his fare. Now the nudged creature was out of sorts--wanted -his dinner or something--and so sat like an image, without responding; -another nudge--with no better success--not a muscle of the nudged -man's face moved. At last, with a heightened color, the new-comer -handed it up himself; but he _didn't_ talk to his next elbow-neighbor -about "_some_ people being _so_ disagreeable," or call him a "nasty -thing;" or try to look him into eternal annihilation, for what was -really an ungracious action. He only rubbed his left ear a little, and -put his mind on something else, and he looked very well while he was -doing it, too. - -If one woman is visiting another at her house, and the latter goes up -stairs for anything, her female guest trots right after her, like a -little haunting dog. If she goes to the closet to get her gaiters, the -shadow follows; she must be present when they are laced on; and -discusses rights and lefts, and hosiery, etc. When her hostess goes to -the glass, to arrange her hair, or put on her bonnet, the shadow -follows, leaning both arms on the toilet-table to witness the -operation. Without this bandbox-freemason-confidence, you see at once -that female-friendship could not be that sacred intermingling of -congenial natures that it is. Your friend would weep, sirs, and ask -you "what she had done to be treated so." - -A mouse and a woman! I know one of the latter, who always gets upon a -table if she sees either coming. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu said a very -witty thing once. I am afraid that not even her discovery of -inoculation will cancel the sin of it. It was this: "The only comfort -I ever had in being a woman is, that I can never marry one." - -The moral of all this is, that women need reforming in their -intercourse with one another. There should be less kissing among them, -and more sincerity; less "palaver," and more reticence. But if you -think I am going to tell them this in person, you _must_ needs suppose -that I have already arranged my sublunary affairs in case of accident. -This not being the case, I decline the office, except so far as I can -fill it at a safe distance on paper. - - * * * * * - -But then again what poor creatures are men when sick. - -One might smile, were it not so pitiful, to see the impatience with -which strong, active men succumb to the necessity of lying a few weeks -on a bed of sickness. The petulance which they in vain try to smother, -at pills and potions, in place of their favorite dish, or drink, or -cigar. The many orders they give, and countermand, in the same breath, -to the wife and mother, who calmly accepts all this as part of her -woman lot, and who dare not, for the life of her, smile at the fuss -this caged lion is making, because his rations are cut off for a few -days. This "being sick patiently," is a lesson we think man has yet to -learn; but it is a good thing that they are sometimes laid on the -shelf awhile, that they may better appreciate the cheerful endurance -with which the feeble wife-mother bears the household cares all the -same--on the pillow where lies with her the newly-born. Pain and -weakness never interrupt her constant, careful forethought for her -family. Husbands are too apt to take these every-day heroisms as -matters of course. Therefore we say again, it is well sometimes that -their attention should be awakened to it, when the doctor has vetoed -for them awhile the office and the counting-room, and they are -childishly frantic at gruel and closed blinds. - - * * * * * - -A woman's education is generally considered to be finished when she is -married, whereas she has only arrived at A B C. If husbands took half -the thought for, or interest in, their wives' _minds_, that wives are -obliged to take for their husbands' _bodies_, women would be more -intelligent. A missing button or string is often the cause of a bitter -outcry; but what of the little woman who sits twiddling her thumbs in -the presence of her husband's intelligent visitors, because she has -not the slightest idea what they are all talking about, and because, -if she wouldn't mortify her husband, she must forever keep speechless? -The _intelligent_ husband, who, from fear of jeopardizing his -puddings or his coffee, rests contented with this state of things, is -guilty of an injustice toward that little woman, of which he ought to -be heartily ashamed. True, when he married her this difference did not -exist, or if it did, the glamour of youth and beauty, like a soft -mist-veil over a landscape, hid, or clothed with loveliness, even -defects. Because her youth and beauty have been uncomplainingly -transmitted to his many children, whose little mouths must be fed, and -little feet tended, _not_ always by a hireling, through the long day; -and whose little garments must be often planned and made, when she -would gladly rest, while they sleep: should he, who is free to read -and think, he who, coming in contact with strong, reflecting minds, -has left her far behind, _never_ turn a loving glance back, and with -his own strong hand and encouraging smile, beg her not to sit down -discouraged by the wayside--_she_, who "hath done what she could?" It -is a _shame_ for such a man to put on his soul's festival-dress for -everybody _but_ her who should be his soul's queen. It is a shame for -a man to be willing so to degrade the mother and teacher of his -children. It is a shame for him, while she sits sewing by his side, -never to raise her drooping self-respect, by addressing an intelligent -word to her about the book he is reading, or the subject upon which he -is thinking, as he sits looking into the fire. I marvel and wonder at -the God-like patience of these _upper housekeepers_, or I _should_, -had I not seen them dropping tears over the faces of their sleeping -children, to cool their hearts. - -I want to hear no nonsense about the mental "equality or inequality of -the sexes." I am sick of it; that is a question men always start when -women ask for _justice_, to dodge a fair answer. They may be equal or -unequal--that's not what I am talking about. Napoleon the Third gives -his dear French people diversions, fête days, and folly of all kinds, -if they will only let _him_ manage the politics. Our domestic -Napoleons, too many of them, give flattery, bonnets and bracelets to -women, and everything else _but_--justice; _that_ question is one for -_them_ to decide, and many a gravestone records how it is done. - -An intelligent man sometimes satisfies his conscience by saying of his -wife, Oh, she's a good little woman, but there is one chamber in my -soul through whose window she is not tall enough to peep. Get her but -a footstool to stand on, Mr. Selfishness, and see how quick she will -leap over that window sill! In short, _show but the disposition_ to -help her, and some manly, loving interest in her progress, instead of -striding on alone, as you do, in your seven league mental boots, -without a thought of her, and take my word for it, if you are thus -_just_ to her, and if she loves you, which last, by the way, all wives -would do, if husbands were truly _just_, and you will find that though -she has but average intellect, you will soon be astonished at the -progress of your pupil. - -I am not unaware that there are men whom the tailor makes, and women -who are manufactured by the dress-maker, and that they often marry -each other. Let such fulfill their august destiny--to dress. I know -that there are women much more intelligent than their husbands; let -such show their intelligence by appearing not to know it. Still, it -remains as I have said, that there exist the wives and mothers whose -cause I now plead, fulfilling each day, not hopelessly--God forbid! -but sometimes with a sad sinking of heart, the duties which no true -wife or mother will neglect, even under circumstances rendered so -disheartening by the husband and father, of whose praise, perhaps, the -world is full. Let the latter see to it, that while the momentous -question, "What _shall_ I get for dinner?" may never, though the -heavens should fall, evade her daily and earnest consideration, that -_he_ would sometimes, by his intelligent conversation, _when there is -no company_, recognize the existence of the _soul_ of this married -housekeeper. - - - - -_GRANDMOTHER'S CHAT ABOUT CHILDREN AND CHILDHOOD._ - - -"What can fascinate you in that ugly beast?" - -This question was addressed to me, while regarding intently a camel in -a collection of animals. "Ugly?" To me he was poetry itself. I was a -little girl again. I was kneeling down at my little chair at family -prayers. I didn't understand the prayers. "The Jews" were a sealed -book to me then. I didn't know why "a solemn awe" should fall upon me -either; or what _was_ a solemn awe, anyhow. For a long time, I know, -till I was quite a big girl, I thought it was one word--thus, -_solemnor_--owing to the rapid manner in which it was pronounced. -_Where_ the heathen were going to be "brought in," or what they were -coming for, I didn't understand; and as to "justification," and -"sanctification," and "election," it was no use trying. But the walls -of the pleasant room where family prayers were held, were papered with -"a Scripture paper." There were great feathery palm-trees. There were -stately females bearing pitchers on their heads. There were Isaac and -Rebecca at the well; and there were _camels_, humped, bearing heavy -burdens, with long flexile necks, resting under the curious, feathery -trees, with their turbaned attendants. I understood _that_. To be -sure, the blue was, as I now recollect it, sometimes on their noses as -well as on the sky; and the green was on their hair as well as on the -grass; but at the pinafore-age we are not hypercritical. To me it was -fairy-land; and often when "Amen" was said, I remained with my little -chin in my palms, staring at my beloved camels, unconscious of the -breakfast that was impending, for our morning prayers were said on an -empty stomach. - -I hear, now, the soft rustle of my mother's dress, as she rose after -the "Amen." I see the roguish face of my baby brother, whose perfect -beauty was long since hid under the coffin lid. I see the servants, -disappearing through the door that led down to the kitchen, whence -came the fragrant odor of coming coffee. I see my mother's flowering -plants in the window, guiltless of dust or insect, blossoming like her -virtues and goodness, perennially. I see black curly heads, and flaxen -curly heads, of all sizes, but _all_ "curly," ranged round the -breakfast table; the names of many of their owners are on marble slabs -in Mount Auburn now. - -So you understand why I "stood staring at that ugly beast," in the -collections of animals, and thinking of the changes, in all these long -years, that had passed so swiftly; for now I am fifty-four, if I am a -minute. And how wonderful it was, that after such a lapse of time, and -so thickly crowded with events, that this family-morning-prayer-hour -should come up with such astonishing vividness, at sight of that -camel. Oh! I shall always love a camel. He will never look "ugly" to -me. I am not sorry, nor ever have been, that I was brought up to -"family prayers," unintelligible though they _then_ were to me. - -I hunted up those "Jews" after I got bigger, and many other things, -too, the names of which got wedged crosswise in my childish memory, -and stuck there. They never did me any harm, that ever I found out. I -have sent up many a prayer, both in joy and sorrow, since then, but -not always "on my knees," which was considered essential in those -days. As to the "solemn awe," I don't understand it now any better -than when I was a child. I can't feel it, in praying, any more than I -should when running to some dear, tried friend, with a burdened heart, -to sob my grief away there, till I grew peaceful again. And all this -came of a Camel. - - * * * * * - -And _now_ I am a grandmother! and here come the holidays again. As I -look into the crowded toyshops, I think, how lucky for their owners -that children will always keep on being born, and that every one of -them will have a grandmother. Uncles, and aunts, and cousins, are all -very well, and fathers and mothers are not to be despised; but a -_grandmother_, at holiday time, is worth them all. She might have -given her own children crooked-necked squashes, and cucumbers, for -dolls; with old towels pinned on by way of dresses, and trusted to -their imaginations to supply all deficiencies. But this -grandchild--ah! that's quite another affair. Is there anything good -enough or costly enough for her? What if she smash her little china -tea-set the minute she gets it? What if she break her wax doll? What -if she maim and mutilate all the animals in her Noah's Ark? What if -she perforate her big India-rubber ball with the points of the -scissors? What if she tear the leaves from out her costly picture -books? They have made the little dear happy, five minutes, at least; -and grandmother has lived long enough to know that five minutes of -genuine happiness, in this world, is not to be despised. And that, -after all, is the secret of a grandmother's indulgence. It isn't a -weakness, as your puckery, sour people pretend. Grandmother has -_lived_. She knows what life amounts to. She knows it is nothing but -_broken toys_ from the cradle to the grave. She knows that happy, -chirping, radiant little creature before her, has all this experience -to go through; and so, ere it comes, she watches with jealous care -that nothing shall defraud her of one sunbeam of childhood. Childhood! -She strains her gaze far beyond that, away into misty womanhood. She -would fain live to stand between her and her first inevitable woman's -heartache. From under her feet she would extract every thorn, remove -every pebble. The winds that should blow upon her should be soft and -perfumed. Every drop of blood in her body, every pulse of her heart, -cries out, Oh! let her be happy. Alas! with all her knowledge, and -notwithstanding all her chastening, she forgets, and ever will forget, -when looking at that child, that the crown comes _after_ the cross. - -Broken Toys! As I picked them up under my feet this morning, where -they had been tossed by careless little fingers, I fell thinking--just -what I have told you. - - * * * * * - -I wish some philosopher would tell me at what age a child's -naughtiness _really_ begins. I am led to make this remark because I am -subject to the unceasing ridicule of certain persons, who shall be -nameless, who sarcastically advise me "to practice what I preach." As -if, to begin with, anybody ever did _that_, from Adam's time down. You -see before I punish, or cause to be punished, a little child, I want -to be sure that it hasn't got the stomach-ache; or is not cutting some -tooth; or has not, through the indiscretion, or carelessness or -ignorance of those intrusted with it, partaken of some indigestible -mess, to cause its "naughtiness," as it is called. Then--I want those -people who counsel me to such strict justice with a mere baby, to -reflect how many times a day, according to this rule, _they_ -themselves ought to be punished for impatient, cross words; -proceeding, it may be, from teeth, or stomach, or head, or nerves; but -just as detrimental as to the results as if they came from meditated, -adult naughtiness. - -Scruples of conscience, you see--that's it. However, yesterday I said: -Perhaps I _am_ a little soft in this matter; perhaps it _is_ time I -began. So I stiffened up to it. - -"Tittikins," said I to the cherub in question, "don't throw your hat -on the floor; bring it to me, dear." - -"I san't," replied Tittikins, who has not yet compassed the letter -_h_. "I san't,"--with the most trusting, bewitching little smile, as -if I were only getting up a new play for her amusement, and -immediately commenced singing to herself: - - "Baby bye, - Here's a fly-- - Let us watch him, - You and I;" - -adding, "Didn't I sing that pretty?" - -Now I ask you, was I to get up a fight with that dear little happy -thing, just to carry my point? I tell you my "government" on that -occasion was a miserable failure; I made up my mind, after deep -reflection, that if it was not quite patent that a child was really -malicious, it was best not to worry it with petty matters; I made up -my mind that I would concentrate my strength on the first _lie_ it -told, and be conveniently blind to lesser peccadilloes. This course is -just what I get abused for. But, I stood over a little coffin once, -with part of my name on the silver plate; and somehow it always comes -between me and this governing business. I think I know what you'll -reply to this; and in order that you may have full justification for -abusing me, I will own that the other day, when I said to Tittikins, -"Now, dear, if you put your hands inside your cup of milk again, I -must really punish you," that little three-year-older replied, in the -_chirp-est_ voice, "No, you won't! I know better." And one day, when I -_really_ shut my teeth together, and with a great throb of martyrdom, -spanked the back of that dear little hand, she fixed her great, soft, -brown, unwinking eyes on me, and said, "I'm brave--I don't mind it!" -You can see for yourself that this practical application of the story -of the Spartan boy and the fox, which I had told her the day before, -was rather unexpected. - -Tittikins has no idea of "the rule that won't work both ways." Not -long since, she wanted my pen and ink, which, for obvious reasons, I -declined giving. She acquiesced, apparently, and went on with her -play. Shortly after, I said, "Tittikins, bring me that newspaper, will -you?" "No," she replied, with Lilliputian dignity. "If you can't -please me, I can't please you." The other day she was making an -ear-splitting racket with some brass buttons, in a tin box, when I -said, "Can't you play with something else, dear, till I have done -writing?" "But I like this best," she replied. "It makes my head ache, -though," I said. "You poor dear, you," said Tittikins, patronizingly, -as she threw the obnoxious plaything down, and rushed across the room -to put her arms around my neck--"you _poor_ dear, you, of tourse I -won't do it, then." - -I have given it up; with shame and confusion of face, I own that child -_governs me_. I know her _heart_ is all right; I know there's not a -grain of _badness_ in her; I know she would die to-day, if she hadn't -those few flaws to keep her alive. In short, she's _my grandchild_. -Isn't that enough? - -But all this does not prevent my giving sensible advise to others. Now -I am perfectly well aware, that there comes a time in the life of -every little child, how beautiful, winning and pleasant soever it may -be, when it hoists with its tiny hand the rebel flag of defiance to -authority. You may walk round another way, and choose not to see it, -and fancy you will have no farther trouble. You may hug to your heart -all its sweet cunning ways, and say--after all, what does it matter? -it is but a child; it knows no better; it will outgrow all that; it is -best not to notice it; I can't bear to be harsh with it; it will be a -great deal of trouble to fight it out, should the child happen to be -persistent: it is a matter of no consequence; and such like -sophistries. I say you may try in this way to dodge a question that -has got some time or other to be met fair and square in the face; and -you may persuade yourself, all the while, that you are thus loving -your own ease, that you are loving your child; but both it and you, -will at some future day see the terrible mistake. - -"Oh, why did my father, or my mother, _let_ me do thus and so?" has -been the anguished cry of many a shame-stricken man and woman whose -parents reasoned after this manner. - -Now, the point at issue between the child and yourself may seem -trifling. It may be very early in its life that it is made. Perhaps -scarcely past the baby age, it may insist, when well and healthy, -upon being sung or rocked in the arms to sleep, and that by some one -particular person. Now, you are perfectly sure this is unnecessary, -and that it would be much better for the child, apart from the -inconvenience of the practice, to be laid quietly in its bed, with -only some trustful person to watch it. But you reason, it has always -been used to this, and I may have to hear it cry every night for a -week before I can teach it. Well--and what then? The child, to be good -for anything, must be taught some time or other that it cannot gain -its point by crying. Why not now? Of course it should not be placed in -bed till it is sufficiently weary; nor should it be frightened at -being left in a dark room alone, or left alone at all, while the trial -is being made. This attended to, if it cry--let it cry. It will be a -struggle of two or three nights and no more; perhaps not that; and the -moral lesson is learned; after that obedience comes easy. - -It is a mistake to suppose, you who are so greedy of a child's love, -that it is more attached to that person who indulges its every whim, -than to the one who can firmly pronounce the monosyllable no, when -necessary. The most brutal word I ever heard spoken, was from a grown -man to a widowed mother, who belonged to that soul-destroying class of -parents who "could never deny a child anything" and whose whole life -had been one slavish endeavor to gratify his every whim without regard -to her own preferences or inclination; and whenever you see such a -man, you may know he had just such a mother; or, having one wiser, -that her attempts at government had been neutralized by one of the -don't-cry-dear-and-you-shall-have-it fathers. It is so strange that -parents who crave to be so fondly remembered by their children in -after years, should be thus short-sighted. It is so strange, that when -they desire next to this, that everybody else should consider their -children supremely lovely and winning, that they should take so direct -a method to render them perfectly disagreeable. Strange that they -should never reflect that some poor wife, in the future, will rue the -day she ever married that selfish, domineering tyrant, now in embryo -in that little boy. Strange that the mother of that blue-eyed little -girl never thinks that the latter may curse her own daughter with that -same passionate temper, which never knew paternal restraint. Stranger -still, that parents launching these little voyagers on the wide ocean -of time, without chart, rudder, or compass, should, when in after days -they suffer total shipwreck, close the doors of their hearts, and -homes, in their shamed and sorrowful faces. - - * * * * * - -I think there is nothing on earth so lovely as the first waking of a -little child in the morning. The gleeful, chirping voice. The bright -eye. The lovely rose-tint of the cheek. The perfect happiness--the -perfect faith in all future to-morrows! - -We who have lain our heads on our pillows so often, with great sorrows -for company; who have tossed, and turned, and writhed, and counted -the lagging hours, and prayed even for the briefest respite in -forgetfulness; who have mercifully slept at last, and our dead have -come back to us, with their smiles and their love, strong enough to -cover any shortcomings of ours. We who have awoke in the morning, with -a sharp shuddering cry at the awful reality, and closed our eyes again -wearily upon the sweet morning light, and the song of birds, and the -scent of flowers, every one of which have given us pangs keener than -death; we who have risen, and with a dead, dull weight at the heart, -moved about mechanically like one walking in sleep, through the gray, -colorless treadmill routine of to-day, a wonder to ourselves;--ah! -with what infinite love and pity do we look upon the blithe waking of -the little child! As it leaps trustfully into our arms, with its -morning caress and its soft cheek to our face, how hard it is -sometimes to keep the eyes from overflowing with the pent-up pain of -the slow years. Oh, the sweet beguilement of that caress! The -trustful, lisping question, which shames us out of our tears, for that -which tears may never bring back. The unconscious bits of wisdom -stammeringly voiced, and left disjointed, and half expressed, in favor -of some childish quip or prank of the moment, which makes us doubt -whether we have most sage or most baby before us. The saucy little -challenge "to play!" - -_We_ play? We swallow a great sob and get obediently down on the -carpet to "build block-houses;" and when the little one laughs, as the -tall structure reels, and topples, and finally falls over, and -merrily stands there, showing the little white teeth, clapping hands, -and peeping into our faces, and says reproachfully, "What are you -thinking about? Why don't _you_ laugh?"--we thank God she has so long -a time before she finds out that grieving "_why_." We thank God that -deep and keen as the child is at one moment, she is so ridiculously -butter-fly-ish the next. - -And then, at its bidding, we set up the chairs and tables in the -baby-house, and locate the numerous families of dolls, in cradles and -beds, and in parlors; and answer the mimic questions about how "live -people" keep house; and play "doctor," and play "nurse," and "play -have them die," and see them twitched out of bed five minutes after -they have departed this life, to be dressed for a party. And in spite -of ourselves, we laugh at the absurd whimsicalities carried out with -such adult earnestness and gravity. - -And yet there are people in the world who don't see a child's mission -in a household; who look upon it as a doll to be dressed, or an animal -to be fed, or a nuisance to be kept out of sight as much as possible. -Heaven bless us, when no other voice or touch or presence can be -borne, a child is often the unconscious Saviour who whispers to the -troubled elements of the soul, "Peace, be still!" - - * * * * * - -Has it ever happened to you that life's contrasts were so sharply -presented, that you were smitten with shamed pain at being housed, -and clad, and fed, and comfortable, as if you had been guilty of a -great wrong, or injustice, that should be immediately wiped out. - -Soon after a deep fall of snow, when fleet horses were flying in all -directions to the tune of merry bells, and the sharp, crisp air was -like wine to the fur-robed riders, I saw a little creature, muffled to -the tip of her pretty nose by the careful hand of love, led down the -steps of a nice house, to a little gaily-painted sleigh, with -cushioned seat, and pretty bells, and soft, warm wrappings, to take -her first ride in the new present "Santa-Claus" had brought her. Three -grown persons were in waiting, to see that she was lifted gently in, -and tucked up, and her hands and feet comfortably bestowed, before -starting on this, her first sleigh-ride. Her bright eyes sparkled with -delight, her voice was merrier than the bells, and the bright rose of -her cheek told of warmth and happiness and plenty. Just three years -old: and as far as _she_ had ever known, _life was all just like -that_. Just at that minute came along another little creature, also -just three years old, and stood by the side of the gaily-painted -little sleigh, looking at its laughing little occupant. _Her_ face was -blue and pinched. A ragged handkerchief was tied over her tangled -brown hair. _Her_ thin cotton dress scarce covered the little purple -knees. _Her_ blue, small fingers held the inevitable beggar's basket, -and the shawl for which the cold wind was contending, left her little -breast and shoulders quite bare. And there she stood, and gazed at -her happier little sister. Merciful Heaven! the horrible contrast, the -terrible mystery of it! Only three years of her sad life gone! So -_much_ of this to endure! and so much still more dreadful that "three -years" could not _yet_ dream of. What had the one child more than the -other done, that each should stand--one with steady, one with -tottering feet--on either side of that dreadful gulf, eying one -another in that guileless, silent way, more terrible to witness than -pen of mine can ever tell? - -Well, the little painted sleigh slid away with its merry freight, and -"three years old" stood still and looked after it. She could not -comprehend, had she been told, the sad thoughts that sent down the -shower of pennies from the window above on her little beggar's basket. -But she looked up and said, timidly, "Thank you," with a shy, little -happy smile, as she scrambled them up out of the snow at her feet. -Poor, little baby!--for she was nothing more. And there are hundreds -just like her in New York. There's the pity of it. Your _men_ beggars -don't fret me, unless crippled. If a _woman_ can earn an honest living -in the face of so many society and custom-dragons, surely a _man_ -ought, or starve. But these babies--oh! it is dreadful. And the more -pitiful you are to them, the harder their lot is; since the more -_substantial_ pity they excite, the more profitable they become to the -callous wretches who live by it. - -And after all, these two little "three years old" may yet change -places. God knows. Often I meet, in my walks, a lady elegantly -apparelled--sometimes in her own carriage, sometimes walking--who -once stood shivering at area doors, like that little owner of the -beggar's basket--_now_ an honored and happy wife and mother. They -don't _all_ go down--down--as inexorable time grinds on. Still the -exceptions are so rare, unless they are snatched away by the -sheltering arms of death, or love, before pollution becomes indelible, -that they are easily counted. - -Back comes the gay little sleigh and the rosy "three years old!" Now -she is taken carefully into the house, and some warm milk prepared for -her, and slippers are warmed for her feet, and her face covered with -kisses; and playthings, which are legion, spread before her; and the -whole house is on its knees, listening to her prattle, and rejoicing -in her presence, that fills the house like the perfume of a sweet -flower, like the warm rays of the sun, like the song of a bird. And -the other? Read this from the daily paper: "Yesterday, a little -beggar-girl, three years old, was run over by the street-car, -at ---- street, while attempting to cross, and instantly killed." Better -so. One short pang, and all the suffering over. - - * * * * * - -Walking behind a father and his prattling child--a fairy little -girl--the other day, I heard a bit of human nature. "I mean to have a -tea-party," lisped the little thing; "a tea-party, papa." "Do you?" -said the father; "Well, whom shall you invite?" "I shan't ask anybody -who don't have tea at _their_ houses," replied the little woman. -"There's worldly wisdom," thought we, "in pantalettes. _So young and -so calculating!_" We smiled--who could help it?--at the little mite; -but we sighed, also. We would rather have heard those infantile lips -say: "I shall ask everybody who _don't_ have tea at their -houses,"--not as a mocking-bird or parrot would say it, as a lesson -taught, but because it was the out-gushing of a warm little unspoiled -heart. That child but echoed, probably, what she had listened to -unobserved, from mamma's lips, on the eve of some party or dinner. The -child who sits playing with its doll, be it remembered, oh mothers, is -not always deaf, dumb, and blind to what is passing around, though it -may seem so. The seed dropped carelessly then, may take root, and -develop into a tree, under whose withering influence your every -earthly hope shall perish. - - * * * * * - -Sometimes one thinks what a pity children should ever grow up. The -other day, passing through an entry of one of our public buildings, I -saw two little boys, of the ages of six and eight, with their arms -about each other's neck, exchanging kiss after kiss. It was such a -pretty sight, in that noisy den of business, that one could but stop -to look. The younger of the children, noticing this, looked up with -such a heaven of love in his face, and said, in explanation, "_he is -my brother_!" Pity they should ever grow up, thought we, as we passed -along. Pity that the world, with its clashing interests of business, -love, and politics, should ever come between them. Pity that they -should ever coldly exchange finger-tips, or, more wretched still, not -even exchange glances. Pity that one should sorrow, and grieve, and -hunger, and thirst, and yearn for sympathy, while the other should -sleep, and eat, and drink, unmindful of his fate. Pity that one with -meek-folded hands should pass into the land of silence, and no tear of -repentance and affection fall upon his marble face from the eyes of -his "brother." Such things have been. That is why we thought, pity -they should ever grow up!--"_Heaven lies so near us in our infancy._" - - - - -_WOMEN AND THEIR DISCONTENTS._ - - -A gentleman asked me the other day, "Why are the women of the present -day so discontented with their lot?" Now there was no denying the -fact, staring, as it does, from every page of "women's books," peeping -out under the flimsy veil of a jest in their conversation, or boldly -challenging your attention in some rasping sarcasm, according to the -taste or humor of the writer or speaker. "Men _can't_ be such devils -as these women seem to suppose," said a gentleman anxious for the -credit of his sex; "and women ought to be able to fulfill the duties -of wives and mothers without such constant complaint. Now my -grandmother"--Here I laid a finger on his lip. Do you know, said I, -that you have this very minute, to use a slang phrase--unladylike, -perhaps, but expressive--do you know that you have this very minute -"put your foot in it?" Do you know that if there is anything in the -world that makes a woman discontented and discouraged, it is to have -some piece of ossified female perfection, in the shape of a relative, -held up to her imitation by her husband--some woman, with chalk and -water in her veins, instead of blood, who is "good" merely because she -is _petrified_? Now, how would a man like his wife constantly to -remind him of the very superior manner in which her grandfather -conducted his business matters? how superior to his was his way of -book-keeping, and of managing his various clerks and subordinates? how -like clockwork he always arranged everything?--and suppose she says -this, too, at moments when her husband had done his very best to be -true to his duties. I wonder how long before he would exclaim, Oh! -bother your grandfather; he did business _his_ way, and I shall do my -business mine. - -Now you see how I have lost patience, as well as what I was going to -say, by the vision of your grandmother, sir. What I was going to -remark when you interrupted me, was this: that, in my opinion, the -root of all this discontent is the prevailing physical inability of -women to face the inevitable cares and duties of married life. Added -to this, the want of magnanimity and _un_wisdom that men show, in -lifting the eyebrow of indifference, or ill-disguised vexation, when -the very fragility they fell in love with, staggers and falls under -the burdens of life. Now were these husbands about to possess a horse, -they would consider first whether they wanted a farm-horse or a fancy -horse--a working animal or an ornamental one. Having chosen the -latter, they would be very careful to choose a carriage of _light -weight_ for it to draw, and not finding one sufficiently light, would -be very apt to have one manufactured on purpose, rather than run the -risk of overtasking the animal's powers. They would treat him -carefully, feed him well, see that he rested sufficiently when weary; -pat him, coax him, instead of lashing and goading him, when, for some -unknown reason, his steps seemed to falter. Now is a man's wife of -less consequence than his horse? Is it less necessary he should stop -to consider, before he marries her, _why_ he wants her? and having -settled that question, make his choice accordingly, after having also -considered what means are at his disposal to carry out his intentions -as to their mutual comfort? In old times, many men married only to get -their butter churned, their cheese made, their clothes mended, and -their meals prepared, their wives raising pigs and children in the -intervals. By this humanitarian process, all that was left of a wife -at thirty, was a horn-comb, inserted in six hairs, on the top of her -head, and a figure resembling the letter _C_. The men of the present -day seemed to have learned no better how to _husband_ their wives. -Their eye is caught by a pretty pink-and-white creature, who steps -about gracefully and gleefully in her father's comfortable, -well-appointed house. They never consider _has she good health_? _Will -she make a healthy Mother?_ nor the good sense to turn resolutely -away, and say, it would be cruelty in me to take her feeble prettiness -from that warmly lined nest, to a home in the performance of whose -duties she would inevitably break down. Nor do they say, when they -have made the irretrievable mistake of marrying her, and find this -weary, discouraged little woman crying over it, "Poor child, I ought -to have foreseen all this, but as I didn't, I must love and comfort -you all the more." Not a bit of it. The more they have been to blame, -the more they blame _her_, and point with exacting finger to that -horrid, stereotyped piece of perfection, "_my_ grandmother." Then they -prate to her about patience--"Job's patience." Now if there _is_ a -proverb that needs re-vamping, it is "_The patience of Job_." In the -first place, Job _wasn't_ patient. Like all the rest of his sex, from -that day to the present, he could be heroic only for a little while at -a time. He _began_ bravely; but ended, as most of them do under -annoyance, by cursing and swearing. Patient as Job! Did Job ever try, -when he was hungry, to eat shad with a frisky baby in his lap? Did Job -ever, after nursing one all night, and upon taking his seat at the -breakfast-table the morning after, pour out coffee for six people, and -second cups after that, before he had a chance to take a mouthful -himself? Pshaw! I've no patience with "Job's patience." It is of no -use to multiply instances; but there's not a faithful house-mother in -the land who does not out-distance him in the sight of men and angels, -every hour in the twenty-four. - -Think of the case of our farmers' wives. Now, just consider it a -little. Next to being a minister's wife, I think I should dread being -the wife of a farmer. Sometimes, indeed, the terms are synonymous. -Raising children and chickens, _ad infinitum_; making butter, cheese, -bread, and the national and omnipresent pie; cutting, making and -mending the clothes for a whole household, not to speak of doing -their washing and ironing; taking care of the pigs and the vegetable -garden; making winter-apple sauce by the barrel, and pickling myriads -of cucumbers; drying fruits and herbs; putting all the twins through -the measles, whooping-cough, mumps, scarlet-fever and chicken-pox; -besides keeping a perpetual river of hot grease on the kitchen table, -in which is to float potatoes, carrots, onions and turnips for the -ravenous maws of the "farm-hands." - -No wonder that the poor things look harassed, jaded and toil-worn, -long before they arrive at middle age. No wonder that a life so hard -and angular, should obliterate all the graces of femininity--when no -margin is left, year after year, for those little refinements which a -woman under any pressure of circumstances, naturally and rightly -desires, and lacking which, she is inevitably unhappy and coarsened. - -Now your farmer is a round, stalwart, comfortable animal. There is no -baby wailing at _his_ pantaloons while he ploughs or makes fences. -_He_ lies down under the nearest tree and rests, or sleeps, when he -can no longer work with profit. He comes in to his dinner with the -appetite of a hyena, and the digestion of a rhinoceros, and goes forth -again to the hayfield till called home to supper. _There_ is his wife, -and too often with the same frowsy head with which she rose in the -morning, darting hither and thither for whatever is wanted, or helping -the hungry, children or the farm-hands. After the supper is finished -come the dish-washing, and milking, and the thought for to-morrow's -breakfast; and then perhaps all night she sleeps with one eye open for -a baby or a sick child, and rises again to pursue the same unrelieved, -treadmill, wearing round, the next day. - -Now the uppermost idea in the minds of too many farmers is, _how to -get the greatest possible amount of work out of their wives_. A poorer -policy than this can scarcely be. They treat their cattle better. If -they are about to be presented with a fine calf or colt, they take -pains that the prospective mother is well cared for, both before and -after the event. The farmer who would not do this would be considered -extremely short-sighted. Their cattle are not allowed to be -overworked, or underfed, or abused in any way. Now, pray, is not a -farmer's wife as valuable an animal as a cow, or a horse, even looking -at the practical side of it? Is it not as important to have a sound, -healthy mother of children, as to have a healthy mare or cow? You may -say that no woman should marry a farmer, who does not _expect to -work_. I say, in reply, that woman was never intended to split or -carry wood, or to carry heavy pails or buckets of water. And yet how -many farmers can we count who ever think of the women of the house, in -regard to the distance or proximity of the wood or the water to the -kitchen? while too many grudge to these overworked women that -labor-saving apparatus in every department of their work, which would -prolong their lives years, to a family of growing children. Then, to -grudge such an industrious wife decent raiment, wherewith to make -herself and her children neat and comfortable, is a shame. To oblige -_such_ a woman to plead like a beggar for the dollar she has earned a -thousand times over _in any family but his own_, should make him -blush. Look at our farmers' wives all over the land, and see if, with -rare exceptions, their toil-worn, harassed faces do not indorse my -statement. Every mother should have time to _talk_ with her -children--to acquaint herself with their souls as well as their -bodies--to do something besides wash their faces and clothes. And how -are these hurried, weary women to find it? Of what avail is it to -those children who _come up_, but who are not _brought up_, that -another meadow, or another barn, is added to the family inheritance, -when the grass waves over the mother's tombstone before their -childhood and youth is past? or when they can remember her only as a -fretted, querulous, care-burdened, over-tasked creature, who was -always jostling them out of the way to catch up some burden which she -dare not drop, though she drop by the way herself. - - * * * * * - -Sunday, "the Day of Rest," so called, to many mothers of families, is -the most toilsome day of the whole week. Children, too young to go to -church, must of course be cared for at home; domestics on that day, of -all others, expect their liberty. The father of the family, also, in -many cases, thinks it hard if, after a week's labor, he too cannot -roam _without_ his family; never remembering that his wife, for the -same reason, needs rest equally with himself, instead of shouldering -on that day a double burden. Weary with family cares, she remembers -the good word of cheer to which she has in days gone by listened from -some clergyman, not too library-read to remember that he was _human_. -The good, sympathetic word that sent her home strengthened for another -week's duties. The good word, which men think they can do without; but -which women, with the petty be-littling every day annoyances of their -monotonous life, long for, as does a tired child to lay its head on -its mother's breast. A mother may feel thus and yet have no desire to -evade the responsible duties of her office. Indeed, had she not often -her oratory in her own heart, she would sink discouraged oftener than -she does, lacking the human sympathy which is often withheld by those -upon whom she has the nearest claim for it. To such a woman it is not -a mere form to "go to church;" it is not to her a fashion exchange; -she _really_ desires the spiritual help she seeks. _You_ may find -nothing in the words that come to her like the cool hand on the -fevered brow. The psalm which is discord to your ear, may soothe her, -like a mother's murmured lullaby. The prayer, which to you is an -offence, brings her face to face with One who is touched by our -infirmities. If an "undevout astronomer is mad," it seems to me that -an undevout woman is still more so. Our insane asylums are full of -women, who, leaning on some human heart for love and sympathy, and -meeting only misappreciation, have gone there, past the Cross, where -alone they could have laid down burdens too heavy to bear unshared. A -great book is unwritten on this theme. When men become less gross and -unspiritual than they now are, they will see the great wrong of which -they are guilty, in their impatience of women's keenest sufferings -because they "are only mental." - - * * * * * - -Ladies, many of you attempt too much. I am convinced that there are -times in everybody's experience when there is so much to be done, that -the only way to do it is to sit down and do nothing. This sounds -paradoxical, but it is not. For instance: the overtasked mother of a -family, in moderate circumstances, who must be brains, hands, stomach -and feet for a dozen little children, and their father, who counts -full another dozen. Do the best she may, plan the wisest she may, her -work accumulates fearfully on her hands. One day's labor laps over on -the next, till she cannot sleep at night for fear she shall oversleep -in the morning. And though she works hard all day, and gives herself -no relaxation, she cannot see any result at the close, save that she -"hath done what she could." Of course you say, let her be satisfied -with that, and not worry about it. That is only another proof how easy -it is for some people to bear the troubles of _other_ people. Suppose -her nervous system has been strained to the utmost, so that every -step is a weariness, and every fresh and unexpected demand sets her -"all of a tremble," as women express it, what is the use of reasoning -then about not working? The more she can't work, the more she will try -to, till she drops in her tracks, unless, catching sight of her -prospective coffin, she stops in time. Now there are self-sacrificing -mothers who need somebody to say to them, "Stop! you have just to make -your choice now, between death and life. You have expended all the -strength you have on hand--and must lay in a new stock before any more -work can be done by you. So don't go near your kitchen; if your cook -goes to sleep in the sink on washing-day, let her; if your chambermaid -spends the most of her time on ironing-day with the grocer-boy in the -area, don't _you_ know anything about it. Get right into bed, and lie -there, just as a man would do if he didn't feel one quarter as bad as -you do; and ring every bell in the house, every five minutes, for -everything you want, or think you want; and my word for it, the world -will keep on going round just the same, as if you were spinning a -spasmodic tee-totum, as hens do, long after their heads have been cut -off. Yes--just lie there till you get rested; and they all find out, -by picking up the burdens you have dropped, what a load you have been -uncomplainingly shouldering. Yes--just lie there; and tell them to -bring you something nice to eat and drink--yes, _drink_; and forbid, -under dreadful penalties, anybody asking you what the family are to -have for dinner. Let them eat what they like, so that they don't -trouble you, and season it to their tastes; and here's hoping it will -do them good." - -And now having located you comfortably under the quilt, out of harm's -way, let me tell you that if you think you are doing God service, or -anybody else, by using up a year's strength in a week, you have made a -sinful mistake. I don't care anything about that basket of unmended -stockings, or unmade pinafores, or any other nursery nightmare which -haunts the dreams of these "Martha" mothers. You have but one life to -live, that's plain; and when you are dead, all the king's men can't -make you stand on your feet again, that's plain. Well, then--don't be -dead. In the first place, go out a part of every day, rain or shine, -for the fresh air, and don't tell me you can't; at least not while you -can stop to embroider your children's clothes. As to "dressing to go -out," don't dress. If you are clean and whole, that's enough; have -boots with elastics at the side, instead of those long mile Balmorals -that take so long to "lace up,"--in short, _simplify your dressing_, -and then stop every wheel in the house if necessary in order to go -out, but go; fifteen minutes is better than nothing; if you can't get -out in the day-time, run out in the evening; and if your husband can't -see the necessity of it, perhaps he will on reflection after you have -gone out. The moral of all which is, that if nobody else will take -care of you, you must just take care of yourself. As to the -children--I might write a long book on this head, or those heads, -bless 'em! THEY can't help being born, poor things, though they often -get slapped for that, and nothing else, as far as I can see. It is a -pity you hadn't three instead of six, so that the care of them might -be a pleasure instead of a weariness; but "that's none of my -business," as people say after they have been unusually meddlesome and -impertinent. Still I repeat it, I wish you _had_ three instead of six, -and I don't care if you _do_ go and tell John. - - * * * * * - -Women can relieve their minds, now-a-days, in one way that was -formerly denied them: they can write! a woman who wrote, used to be -considered a sort of monster--At this day it is difficult to find one -who does not write, or has not written, or who has not, at least, a -strong desire to do so. Gridirons and darning-needles are getting -monotonous. A part of their time the women of to-day are content to -devote to their consideration when necessary; but you will rarely find -one--at least among women who _think_--who does not silently rebel -against allowing them a monopoly. - -What? you inquire, would you encourage, in the present overcrowded -state of the literary market, any more women scribblers? Stop a bit. -It does not follow that she should wish or seek to give to the world -what she has written. I look around and see innumerable women, to -whose barren, loveless life this would be improvement and solace, and -I say to them, write! Write, if it will make that life brighter, or -happier, or less monotonous. Write! it will be a safe outlet for -thoughts and feelings, that maybe the nearest friend you have, has -never dreamed had place in your heart and brain. You should have read -the letters I have received; you should have talked with the women I -have talked with; in short, you should have walked this earth with -your eyes open, instead of shut, as far as its women are concerned, to -indorse this advice. Nor do I qualify what I have said on account of -social position, or age, or even education. It is not _safe_ for the -women of 1868 to shut down so much that cries out for sympathy and -expression, because life is such a maelstrom of business or folly, or -both, that those to whom they have bound themselves, body and soul, -recognize only the needs of the former. _Let them write_ if they will. -One of these days, when that diary is found, when the hand that penned -it shall be dust, with what amazement and remorse will many a husband, -or father, exclaim, I never knew my wife, or my child, till this -moment; all these years she has sat by my hearth, and slumbered by my -side, and I have been a stranger to her. And you sit there, and you -read sentence after sentence, and recall the day, the month, the week, -when she moved calmly, and you thought happily, or, at least, -contentedly, about the house, all the while her heart was aching, when -a kind word from you, or even a touch of your hand upon her head, as -you passed out to business, or pleasure, would have cheered her, oh so -much! When had you sat down by her side after the day's work for both -was over, and talked with her just a few moments of something besides -the price of groceries, and the number of shoes Tommy had kicked out, -all of which, proper and necessary in their place, need not of -necessity form the stable of conversation between a married pair; had -you done this; had you recognized that she had a _soul_ as well as -yourself, how much sunshine you might have thrown over her colorless -life! - -"Perhaps, sir," you reply; "but I have left my wife far behind in the -region of thought. It would only distress her to do this!" How do you -know that? And if it were so, are you content to leave her--the mother -of your children--so far behind? _Ought_ you to do it? Should you not, -by raising the self-respect you have well nigh crushed by your -indifference and neglect, extend a manly hand to her help? _I_ think -so. The pink cheeks which first won you may have faded, but remember -that it was in your service, when you quietly accept the fact that -"you have left your wife far behind you in mental improvement." Oh! it -is pitiable this growing apart of man and wife, for lack of a little -generous consideration and magnanimity! It is pitiable to see a -husband without a thought that he might and should occasionally, have -given his wife a lift out of the petty, harrowing details of her -woman's life, turn from her, in company, to address his conversation -to some woman who, happier than she, has had time and opportunity for -mental culture. You do not see, sir--you will not see--you do not -desire to see, how her cheek flushes, and her eye moistens, and her -heart sinks like lead as you thus wound her self-respect. You think -her "cross and ill-natured," if when, the next morning, you converse -with her on the price of butter, she answers you listlessly and with a -total want of interest in the treadmill-subject. - -I say to such women: Write! Rescue a part of each week at least for -reading, and putting down on paper, for your own private benefit, your -thoughts and feelings. Not for the _world's_ eye, unless you choose, -but to lift yourselves out the dead-level of your lives; to keep off -inanition; to lessen the number who are yearly added to our lunatic -asylums from the ranks of misappreciated, unhappy womanhood, narrowed -by lives made up of details. Fight it! oppose it, for your own sakes -and your children's! Do not be _mentally_ annihilated by it. It is all -very well to sneer at this and raise the old cry of "a woman's sphere -being home"--which, by the way, you hear oftenest from men whose home -is only a place to feed and sleep in. You might as well say that a -man's sphere is his shop or his counting-room. How many of them, think -you, would be contented, year in and year out, to eat, drink, and -sleep as well as to transact business there, and _never desire_ or -_take_, at all costs, some let-up from its monotonous grind? How many -would like to forego the walk to and from the place of business? -forego the opportunities for conversation, which chance thus throws in -their way, with other men bent on the same or other errands? Have, -literally, _no_ variety in their lives? Oh, if you could be a woman -but one year and try it! A woman--but not necessarily a butterfly--not -necessarily a machine, which, once wound up by the marriage ceremony, -is expected to click on with undeviating monotony till Death stops the -hands. - - * * * * * - -I am often asked the question, "Do I believe that women should vote?" -Most assuredly. I am heart and soul with the women-speakers and -lecturers, and workers in public and private, who are trying to bring -this thing about. I have heard and read all the pros and cons on this -subject; and I have never yet heard, or read, any argument in its -_dis_favor, which is worth considering by whomsoever uttered, or -written. Everything must have a beginning, and no noble enterprise was -ever yet undertaken that did not find its objectors and assailants. -That is to be expected. These women-pioneers are prepared for this. It -is not pleasant, to be sure, to see those men in their audiences, who -should give them a hearty, manly support, making flippant, foolish, -shallow remarks on the subject; or thanking God that _their_ wives and -daughters are not "mixed up in it." Meantime their wives and daughters -may be "mixed up" in many things much less to their credit, and much -more to the detriment of their relations as mothers and wives. And -when I hear a woman making fun of this subject, or languidly declaring -that, for her part, she wouldn't give a fig to vote, and she is only -glad enough to be rid of the whole bothering thing, I feel only pity, -that in this glorious year of our Lord, 1869, she should still prefer -going back to the dark ages. I feel only pity, that, torpidly and -selfishly content with her ribbons and dresses, she may never see or -think of those other women, who may be lifted out of their wretched -condition, of low wages and starvation, by this very lever of power. - -As to the principal objection urged against voting, I think a woman -may vote and yet be a refined, and lady-like, and intelligent person, -and worthy of all respect from those who hold womanhood in the highest -estimation. I think she may go to the ballot-box without receiving -contamination, just as I believe that she may walk in the public -thoroughfares, and pass the most desperate characters, of both sexes, -without a spot on her spiritual raiment. Nay, more--I believe that -_through her_ the ballot-box is to become regenerated. Nor do I -believe that any man, educated or uneducated, unless under the -influence of liquor, would in any way make that errand a disagreeable -one to her. You tell me, but they _are_ under that influence more or -less on election day. Very well--the remedy for that is in closing the -liquor-shops till it is over. - -As to women "voting as their husbands tell them," I have my own -opinion, which I think results would prove to be correct. I think, for -instance, that no wife of a drunkard would vote that any drunkard -should hold office, howsoever her husband himself might vote, or tell -her to vote. Then, why is it any worse for a _woman_ "to vote as she -is bid," than for an ignorant _male_ voter to vote as he is bid. And -as to the "soil and stain on woman's purity," which timidity, and -conservatism, and selfishness insists shall follow the act, it might -be well, in answer, to draw aside the veil from many homes in New -York, _not_ in the vicinity of the Five Points either, where -long-suffering, uncomplaining wives and mothers, endure a defilement -and brutality on legal compulsion, to which this, at the worst -estimate ever made by its opponents, would be spotlessness itself. -No--no. Not one, or all of these reasons together, is the _true_ -reason for this opposition; and what is more, not one, or all of these -reasons together, will _eventually_ prevent women from having the -franchise. It is only a question of time; that's one comfort. - - - - -_WOMEN AND SOME OF THEIR MISTAKES._ - - -But, then, it is not altogether the fault of men, that women have so -poor a time in this world. - -If I had a boy, my chief aim would be to make him yield to his -sisters. Why? _Because_ so many boys have been taught a contrary -lesson; their selfishness every day growing stronger and stronger, -till the day when they marry some woman, who is expected to "fall into -line"--toes out, head erect, shoulders squared--at the word of -command, like their sisters. It is a very common thing to hear a -mother say to her daughters, you must do this, or that, or omit doing -this, or that, or some day you will cause the unhappiness of the man -you marry. When was a parent ever known to say this to a _boy_ about -his future wife? The idea, I have no doubt, would be considered quite -ludicrous. But I have yet to learn why it is not as necessary in one -case as in the other. Now, to oblige the girls of a family to be -punctual to their meals, on penalty of displeasure, and cold food, and -to save a warm breakfast for the _boy_, whenever he chooses to lie in -bed an hour or two later than the rest of the family, is making a -fatal mistake, so far as the boy is concerned, and educating a selfish -husband for some unfortunate girl who may be entrapped by him. _Then_ -this foolish mother will be the very first to lament to her circle of -sympathizing friends, that "_her_ John" should have married a woman -who is so exacting and unyielding. _Then_, these sisters will mourn -publicly that dear "John" should have made such a terrible matrimonial -blunder as to marry a woman who was not enamored of mending his -stockings every evening in the week, which he spent out doors, in any -kind of amusement that the whim of the hour suggested. _Then_--aunts, -and cousins, and uncles, of the hundredth degree, will join and swell -the chorus, till "dear John," if he has not sense enough to see the -discrepancy between their preaching and their practice, as exemplified -in their exactions towards their own husbands, will believe himself -entitled to honorable mention in "Fox's Book of Martyrs." - -The evil, I have said, _begins_ with the boy's home education. -"Sister" must mend his gloves and stockings, and alter his shirts, -whenever he wishes; but "brother" may altogether decline waiting upon -his sisters to evening visits, or amusements, in favor of other -ladies, or may, in any other way, show his utter selfishness and -disregard of their natural claims upon him. - -This is all wrong, and boys so brought up must of necessity resist, -when matrimony presents any other side of the question than that of -blind, unswerving obedience. - -Now, imagine this selfishness intensified a thousand fold by solitary -years of bachelorhood, and you have a creature to whom "The Happy -Family" would forever be a myth. - -Perhaps you think that I imagine selfishness to be peculiarly the vice -of the other sex. Not at all. There are women who are most -disgustingly selfish; wives and mothers unworthy both these titles; -but I shall find you ten selfish husbands to one selfish wife, and -therefore I call the attention of parents to this part of their sons' -education. If half the admonitions bestowed so lavishly upon girls -were addressed to their brothers, the family estate and the public -would be the gainers. - -There is one class of women that in my opinion need extinguishing. I -think I hear some male voice exclaim, _One_? I wish there were not a -great many! Sir! know that the foolishest woman who was ever born is -better than most men; but I am not treating of that branch of the -subject now. As I was about to remark, there is a class of sentimental -women who use up the whole dictionary in speaking of a pin, and -circumlocute about the alphabet in such a way, every time they open -their mincing lips, that nobody but themselves can know what they are -talking about, and truth to say, I should have been safe not to admit -even that exception. Their "_ske-iy_" must always be heavenly -"_ble-u_;" to touch household matters with so much as the end of a -taper finger would be "beneneath them," and that though Astor may have -considerable more money in the bank than themselves. To sweep, to -dust, to make a bed, to look into a kitchen-closet, to superintend a -dinner--was a woman made for that? they indignantly exclaim. Now, -while I as indignantly deny that she was born with a gridiron round -her neck, I repudiate the idea that any one of these duties is beneath -any woman, if it be necessary or best that she should perform them. I -could count you a dozen women on my fingers' ends, whom the reading -world has delighted to honor, who held no such flimsy, sickly, -hot-house views as these. Because a woman can appreciate a good book, -or even write one, or talk or think intelligently, is she not to be a -breezy, stirring, wide-awake, efficient, thorough, capable -housekeeper? Is she not to be a soulful wife and a loving, judicious -mother? Is she to disdain to comb a little tumbled head, or to wash a -pair of sticky little paws, or to mend a rent in a pinafore or little -pair of trousers? I tell you there's a false ring about women who talk -that way. No woman of true intellect ever felt such duties _beneath_ -her. She may like much better to read an interesting book, or write -out her own thoughts when she feels the inspiration, than to be _much_ -employed this way, but she will never, never disdain it, and she will -faithfully stand at her post if there can be no responsible -relief-guard. You will never find her sentimentally whining about -moonshine, while her neglected children are running loose in the -neighbors' houses, or through the streets. You may be sure she is the -wrong sort of woman who does this; she has neither head enough to -attain to that which she is counterfeiting, nor heart enough really to -care for the children she has so thoughtlessly launched upon the -troubled sea of life. I sincerely believe that there are few women -with a desire for intellectual improvement, who cannot secure it if -they will. To be honest, they find plenty of time to put no end of -embroidery on their children's clothes; plenty of time to keep up the -neck-and-neck race of fashion, though it may be in third-rate -imitations. They will sit up till midnight, but they will trim a dress -or bonnet in the latest style, if they cannot hire it done, when the -same energy would, if they felt inclined, furnish the _inside_ of -their heads much more profitably; for mark you, these women who are -above household cares will run their feet off to match a trimming, or -chase down a coveted color in a ribbon. _That_ isn't "belittling!" -_That_ isn't "trivial!" _That_ isn't "beneath them!" - -It is very funny how such women will fancy they are recommending -themselves by this kind of talk, to persons whose approbation they -sometimes seek. If they only knew what a sensible, rational person may -be thinking about while they are patiently but politely listening to -such befogged nonsense; how pity is dominant where they suppose -admiration to be the while; how the listener longs to break out and -say, My dear woman, _I_ have washed and ironed, and baked and brewed, -and swept and dusted, and washed children, and made bonnets, and cut -and made dresses, and mended old coats, and cleaned house, and made -carpets, and nailed them down, and cleaned windows, and washed dishes, -and tended the door-bell, and done every "menial" thing you can think -of, when it came to me to do, and I'm none the worse for it, though -perhaps you would not have complimented my "intellect," as you call -it, had you known it. Lord bless me! there's nothing like one's _own_ -hands and feet. Bells are very good institutions when one is sick, but -I never found that person who, when I had the use of my feet, could do -a thing as quick as myself, and as a general thing the more you pay -them the slower they move; and as I'm of the comet order, I quite -forget it is "_beneath me_" to do things, till I've done them. So you -see, after all, so far as I am concerned, it is no great credit to me, -although it _is_ very shocking to know that a woman who writes isn't -always dressed in sky blue, and employed in smelling a violet. - - * * * * * - -Then there is another subject to which I wish women would give a -little consideration; and that is the reason for the decline of the -good old-fashioned hospitality. I think the abolition of the good old -"tea" of our ancestors has a great deal to do with it, and the -prevalent and absurd idea that hospitality is not hospitality, unless -indorsed by a French cook, and a brown-stone front. Now, _dinner_ -takes the place of this meal. Dinner! which involves half a dozen -courses, with dessert and wines to match. That is an affair which -requires the close supervision of the wife and mother of the family, -even though she may have a cook well-skilled, and attendants -well-drilled. Now, as most American wives and mothers, have about as -much strain on their vitality from day to day as they can possibly, -with their fragile constitutions, endure, they naturally prefer as few -of these domestic upheavings as they can get along with, and retain -their social footing; nor for one do I blame them for this. The blame, -is in a system which subordinates everything lovely and desirable in -the way of hospitality, to the coarse pleasures of show and gluttony. -Who shall be the bold lady pioneer of reform in this matter? - -Certainly, ladies have a personal interest in abolishing this state of -things, when gentlemen's dinner-parties, including half a dozen -invitations, to the exclusion of every lady, except the hostess, are -becoming so common. Make your dinners more simple, fair dames, and -make your dress as simple as your dinners. Restore in this way the -power to invite your friends oftener, and let your and your husband's -invitations to dinner, include gentlemen _and their wives_. If the -latter are fools, they will not become less so by being excluded from -rational conversation. If they are _not_ fools, it is an outrage to -treat them as if they were. It would be useless, of course, to hint -that dinner had better be at midday. Fashion would turn up her nose at -the idea. And yet you know very well that _that_ is the natural and -most wholesome time to dine. As to gentlemen "not being able to leave -their business," to do this, I might suggest that they go to bed -earlier, to enable them to go earlier to that business in the morning. -I might also add, that gentlemen generally can find time to do -anything which they greatly desire to do. I might also add, that for -one child or young person who eats this heartiest meal of the day, and -goes directly to bed upon it without harm, thousands bring on an -indigestion, which makes life a curse instead of the blessing it ought -to be. - -Where do you ever hear now, the frank, hearty invitation, "Come in any -time and see us?" How is it possible, when a table preparation that -involves so much thought and expense, is considered the proper way to -honor a guest, and conversation and cordiality are secondary matters, -if not altogether ignored? Of what use is it to have a fine house, and -well-stocked wine-cellar, and drilled servants, when the passion for -show has reached such a pitch, that public saloons and suites of rooms -in vast hotels, must be hired, and a man leave his own house, be it -ever so fine, because he must have more room and more parade, than any -private house can by any possibility furnish, without pitching the -whole family into inextricable chaos and confusion for a month. - -This is all false and wrong, and demoralizing. It is death to social -life--death to the true happiness and well-being of the family, and in -my opinion, ladies are to blame for it, and ladies only can effect a -reform. - -Simplify your toilets--simplify your dinners, ladies. There are many -of you who have sufficient good sense to indorse this view of the -case; how many are there with sufficient courage to defy the tyranny -of omnipotent fashion and carry it out? - - * * * * * - -Now, let me tell you how it was in good old-fashioned New England -towns; when people enjoyed life five times as well as now. Then -husbands, wives, and children had not each a separate circle of -acquaintances, and their chief aim was not to regulate matters, with a -view to be in each other's society as little as possible. That fatal -death-blow to the purity, happiness, and love of home. - -_Then_ you went at dark to tea. I am speaking of the old-fashioned New -England parties. You and your husband, and your eldest boy or girl; -the latter being instructed not to pull over the cake to get the best -piece, or otherwise to misbehave themselves. There were assembled the -principal members of the church, and, above all, its pastor and -spouse, and deacons ditto. The married women had on their best caps -and collars, and the regulation black-silk-company-dress, which, in my -opinion, has never been improved upon by profane modern fingers. The -young girls wore a merino of bright hue, if it were winter, with a -little frill of lace about the shoulders; or a white cambric dress if -the mildness of the weather admitted. The men always in black, laity -or clergy, with flesh-colored gloves, of Nature's own making, -warranted to fit. - -All assembled, the buzz of talk was soon agreeably interrupted by the -entrance of a servant bearing a heavily-laden tray of cups and -saucers, filled with tea and coffee, cream and sugar. This tray was -rested on a table; and the host, rising, requested Rev. Mr. ---- to -ask a blessing. He did it, and the youngsters, eying the cake, wished -it had been shorter. So did the girl in charge of the tray. "Blessing" -at last over, the tea and coffee were distributed. The matrons -charging their initiatory fledglings "not to spill over," often wisely -pouring a spoonful of coffee or tea, from the cup into the saucer, to -prevent the former from any china-gymnastics unfavorable to the best -gown or carpet. The men turned their toes in till they met; spread -their red silk handkerchiefs over their bony knees, and on that risky, -improvised, graceful lap, placed the hot cup of tea, with an awful -sense of responsibility, which interfered with the half-finished -account of the last "revival." Then came a tray of thinly-sliced bread -and butter, delicate and tempting; rich cake, guiltless of hartshorn -or soda, with delicate sandwiches, and tiny tarts. - -This ceremony gone through, the young people crawled from the maternal -wing, and laughed and talked in corners, as freely and hilariously as -if they were not "children of damnation," destined to eternal torment -if they did not indorse the creed of their forefathers. Their elders, -with satisfied stomachs, and cheerful voices and faces, seemed to have -merged the awful "hell," too, for the time being; and nobody would -have supposed them capable of bringing children into the world, to be -scared through it with a claw-footed devil constantly at their backs. - -As the evening went on, the buzz and noise increased. The youngsters -giggled and pushed about, keeping jealous watch the while, for the -nine o'clock tray of goodies, which was to delight their eyes and -feast their palates. This tray contained the biggest oranges and -apples, the freshest cluster-raisins, and almonds, hickory nuts, -three-cornered nuts, filberts and grapes. After this came a tray of -preserved quinces, or plums, or peaches, with little pitchers of -_real_ cream. Then, to wind up, little cunning glasses filled with -lemonade, made of _lemons_. - -_Now_ the youngsters had plenty to do. So absorbed were they, cracking -nuts and jokes, that when the minister, seizing the back of a chair in -the middle of the room, said, "Let us pray," the difficulty of cutting -a laugh off short in the middle, and disposing of their plates, -presented itself in such an hysterical manner, that a pinch of the -ear, or a shake of the shoulders, had to be resorted to, to bring -things to a spiritual focus. After prayers came speedy cloakings, -shawlings, and kind farewells and greetings; and by _ten_, or shortly -after, the hour at which modern parties _begin_, visitors and visited -were all tucked comfortably between the sheets. - -_Now._ Nobody can give a party that does not involve the expenditure -of hundreds of dollars. Dinner, or evening party, it is all the same. -The hostess muddles her brain about "devilled fowl," "frozen -puddings," "meringue" things, of every shape--floral pyramids, for -which she has _my_ forgiveness, for fashion never had a more -pardonable sin than this. She must have dozens of hired silver, and -chairs, and hired waiters, and the mantua-maker must be driven wild -for dress trimmings, and the interior of the house must be thrown off -of the family track for days, before and after. And the good man of it -must have a dozen kinds of wines, and as many kinds of cigars; and -there must be more "courses," if it is a dinner, than you could count; -and you must sit tedious hours, while these are trotted on and trotted -off, by skilled skirmishers; and what with the necessity of all this -restaurant-business, and the stupidity that comes of over-feeding, one -might as well leave his brains at home when he goes into modern -"society." Not to speak of the host and hostess, whose attempts at -conversation are fettered, and spasmodic in consequence; for, have as -many servants as you may, mistakes _will_ happen, _crushing_ mistakes, -such as a dish located east instead of west, or wine wrongly placed, -or the wrong wine rightly placed, or a dish tardy, that should be -speedy; all of which momentous things, to the scholastic mind of the -host, or the intelligent brain of the hostess, being sufficient to -make them forget that "the chief end of man" was not to cultivate his -stomach. Now, if one must needs lure one's friends with a vulgar bill -of fare, like a hotel, in order to ensure their presence; if one must -think of the subject days beforehand, in one shape and another, and be -bored, and worried, and badgered with these material things; if -_bellies_, to speak politely, are to domineer over _brains_ this way, -then I say that "society," at such a price, isn't worth having. For -one, I had rather go back to the weak lemonade and strong prayers of -our forefathers. - - * * * * * - -Then, as to the dress of women. If there is one phrase more -universally misapplied than another, it is the phrase "well-dressed." -The first thing to be considered in this connection, is _fitness_. A -superb and costly silk, resting upon the questionable straw in the -bottom of an omnibus, excites only pity for the bad taste of the -luckless wearer. A pair of tight-fitting, light kid gloves, on female -fingers, on a day when the windows are crusted with frost, strikes us -as an uncalled-for martyrdom under the circumstances; also a pair of -high-heeled new boots, with polished soles, constantly threatening the -wearer with a humiliating downfall, and necessitating slow and careful -locomotion, on icy pavements, in company with a very pink nose. Bows -of ribbon, jewelled combs and head-pins at breakfast, either at a -hotel table or at home, do not convey to me an idea of _fitness_; -also, white or pink parasols for promenade or shopping excursions, -whether the remainder of the dress is in keeping or not, and more -often it is the latter. A rich velvet outer garment over a common -dress; a handsome set of furs with a soiled bonnet; diamond earrings -with shabby gloves; gold watch and trinkets, and a silk dress -ornamented with grease pots; sloppy, muddy pavements and pink silk -hose--all these strike the beholder as incongruous. - -There are women who are slow to understand these things. The season, -the atmosphere and the hour of the day have no bearing at all upon -their decisions as to costume. A woman with restricted means, and -unable to indulge in changes of apparel, instead of selecting fabrics -or trimmings which will not invite attention to this fact, will often -select such a stunning, glaring outfit, that the truth she would -conceal, is patent to every beholder; an inexpensive dress, provided -it be whole, clean, well-fitting and harmonious in its accessories, -conveys the idea of being "well-dressed" quite as emphatically as a -toilette five times more costly. But what is the use of talking? One -woman shall go into her room, and, without study or thought, -instinctively harmonize her whole attire, so that the most fastidious -critic shall find no fault with her selection. Another shall put on -the same things, and then neutralize the whole by some flaring, -incongruous, idiotic "last touch" which she imagines her crowning -success. She can't do it! and, what is worse, she can't be persuaded -that she can't do it. - -After all, what does it matter? growls some believer in "Watts on the -Mind;" what does it matter what a woman _wears_? It is a free country. -So it is; and yet I am glad the trees and the grass in it are green, -not red. I am glad that the beautiful snow is not black. I am glad -that every flower is not yellow, and that the sky is not a pea-green. -Woman is by nature a neat and tidy creature; grace and beauty she -strives for, be it ever so dimly. All that intelligently helps to -this, I affirm to be a means of grace. It would not be amiss to -inquire how much moral pollution and loss of self-respect among the -women in our tenement houses is consequent upon their inability, amid -such miserable surroundings, to appear in anything but their unwomanly -rags. If a woman has a husband who is indifferent whether her hair is -smoothed once a day or once a year, still let her, for her children's -sake, strive to look as attractive as she can. "My mother is not so -pretty as yours," said one child to another. The keen little eyes had -noted the rumpled hair, the untidy wrapper, the slipshod shoe, which -were considered good enough for the nursery, unless company was -expected. Sickness excepted, this is wrong and unnecessary. Nothing -that tends to make home bright is a matter of inconsequence, and this -least of all. How many young mothers, sitting in their nurseries, love -to recall the pleasant picture of _their_ mother in hers. The neat -dress--the shining hair, the beaming face. So let your children -remember you. Be not pretty and tidy, _only_ when company comes. - -Then there is the school question, which is never long out of my mind. -The papers are full of "school advertisements," of every kind, "_Which -is the best?_" ask the bewildered parents as they look over the -thousand-and-one Prospectus-es and read the formidable list of -"branches" taught in each, between the hours of nine and three, for -each day, Sundays excepted. They look at their little daughter. "It is -time, they say, that she learned something;" and that is true; but -they do not consider that is not yet time for her to learn -_everything_; and that in the attempt she will probably break down -before the experiment is half made. They do not consider, in their -anxiety, that she should be educated with the railroad speed so -unhappily prevalent; that to keep a growing child in school from nine -till three is simply torture; and to add to that lessons out of -school, an offence, which should come under the head of "Cruelty to -Animals," and punished accordingly by the city authorities; who, in -their zeal to decide upon the most humane manner in which to kill -calves and sheep, seem quite to overlook the slow process by which the -children of New York are daily murdered. That "everybody does so;" -that "all schools" keep these absurd hours; that "teachers want the -afternoons to themselves,"--seem to me puerile reasons, when I meet -each day, at three o'clock, the great army of children, bearing in -their bent shoulders, narrow chests and pale faces, the unmistakable -marks of this overstrain of the brain, at a critical age. And when I -see, in addition, the piles of books under their arms, effectually to -prevent the only alleviation of so grave a mistake, in the out-door -exercise that their cramped limbs, and tired brains so loudly call -for, after school hours, I have no words to express my sorrow and -disgust of our present school system. - -It is not teachers, but _parents_, who are to right this matter. The -former but echo the wishes of the latter. If parents think physical -education a matter of no consequence, why should teachers love those -children better than the parents themselves? If parents are so anxious -for the cramming process, which is filling our church-yards so fast, -why should teachers, who "must live," interfere? Now and then, one -more humane, less self-seeking, than the majority, will venture to -suggest that the pupil has already quite as much mental strain as is -safe for its tender years; but when the reply is in the form of a -request from the parent that "another branch will not make much -difference," what encouragement has the teacher to continue to oppose -such stupidity? Not long since, I heard of a mother who was boasting -to a friend of the smartness and precocity of her little daughter of -seven years, "who attended school from nine till three each day, and -studied most of the intervening time; and was so fond of her books -_that all night, in her sleep, she was saying over her geography -lessons and doing her sums in arithmetic_." Comment on such folly is -unnecessary. I throw out these few hints, hoping that one mother, at -least, may pause long enough to give so important a subject a -moment's thought. That she may ask, whether it would not be wise -occasionally to visit the school-room where her child spends so much -of its time; and examine the state of ventilation in the apartment, -and see if the desk, at which the child sits so long, is so contrived -that it might have been handed down from the days of the Inquisition, -as a model instrument of torture. I will venture to say, that her -husband takes far better care, and expends more pains-taking thought, -with his favorite horse, if he has one, than she ever has on the -physical well-being of her child. What _right_, I ask, has she to -bring children into the world, who is too indolent, or too -thoughtless, or too pleasure-loving to guide their steps safely, -happily, and above all, _healthily_ through it? - - * * * * * - -There is another topic on which I wish to speak to women. I hope to -live to see the time when they will consider it a _disgrace_ to be -sick. When women, and men too, with flat chests and stooping -shoulders, will creep round the back way, like other violators of -known laws. Those who _inherit_ sickly constitutions have my sincerest -pity. I only request one favor of them, that they cease perpetuating -themselves till they are physically on a sound basis. But a woman who -laces so tightly that she breathes only by a rare accident; who -vibrates constantly between the confectioner's shop and the dentist's -office; who has ball-robes and jewels in plenty, but who owns neither -an umbrella, nor a water-proof cloak, nor a pair of thick boots; who -lies in bed till noon, never exercises, and complains of "total want -of appetite," save for pastry and pickles, is simply a disgusting -nuisance. Sentiment is all very nice; but, were I a man, I would -beware of a woman who "couldn't eat." Why don't she take care of -herself? Why don't she take a nice little bit of beefsteak with her -breakfast, and a nice _walk_--not _ride_--after it? Why don't she stop -munching sweet stuff between meals? Why don't she go to bed at a -decent time, and lead a clean, healthy life? The doctors and -confectioners have ridden in their carriages long enough; let the -butchers and shoemakers take a turn at it. A man or woman who "can't -eat" is never sound on any question. It is waste breath to converse -with them. They take hold of everything by the wrong handle. Of course -it makes them very angry to whisper pityingly, "dyspepsia," when they -advance some distorted opinion; but I always do it. They are not going -to muddle my brain with their theories, because their internal works -are in a state of physical disorganization. Let them go into a Lunatic -Asylum and be properly treated till they can learn how they are put -together, and how to manage themselves sensibly. - -How I _rejoice_ in a man or woman with a chest; who can look the sun -in the eye, and step off as if they had not wooden legs. It is a rare -sight. If a woman now has an errand round the corner, she must have a -carriage to go there; and the men, more dead than alive, so lethargic -are they with constant smoking, creep into cars and omnibuses, and -curl up in a corner, dreading nothing so much as a little wholesome -exertion. The more "tired" they are, the more diligently they smoke, -like the women who drink perpetual _tea_ "to keep them up." - -Keep them up! Heavens! I am fifty-five, and I feel half the time as if -I were just made. To be sure I was born in Maine, where the timber and -the human race last; but I do not eat pastry, nor candy, nor -ice-cream. I do not drink tea! I walk, not ride. I own stout -boots--pretty ones, too! I have a water-proof cloak, and no diamonds. -I like a nice bit of beefsteak and a glass of ale, and anybody else -who wants it may eat pap. I go to bed at ten, and get up at six. I -dash out in the rain, because it feels good on my face. I don't care -for my clothes, but I _will_ be well; and after I am buried, I warn -you, don't let any fresh air or sunlight down on my coffin, if you -don't want me to get up. - - - - -_NOTES UPON PREACHERS AND PREACHING._ - - -I can imagine nothing more disheartening to a clergyman, than to go to -church, with an excellent sermon in his coat-pocket, and find an -audience of twenty-five people. I was one of twenty-five, the other -night, who can bear witness, that having turned out, in a pelting -rain, to evening service, the clergyman preached to us with as much -eloquence, good sense and zeal as if his audience numbered twenty-five -hundred. You may ask why shouldn't he? If he believes _one_ soul is -more value than all the world, why shouldn't he? Merely because there -is as much human nature in a clergyman as in anybody else. Merely -because he is, like other people, affected by outward influences; and -a row of empty seats might well have a depressing physical effect, -notwithstanding his "belief." - -When I go to church I want to carry something back with me wherewithal -to fight the devil through the week. I don't want the ancestry of -Jeroboam and Ezekiel, and Keranhappuck raked up and commented on; or -any other fossil dodge, to cover up the speaker's barrenness of head -or heart. I want something for _to-day_--for over-burdened men and -women in this year of our Lord 1869. Something _live_; something that -has some bearing on our daily work; something that recognizes the -seething elements about us, and their bearings on the questions of -conscience and duty we are all hourly called on to settle. I want a -minister who won't forever take refuge in "the Ark," for fear of -saying something that conservatism will hum! and ha! over. - -One day I heard this remark, coming out of church where that style of -sermon was preached: "Well--what has all that to do with _me_?" Now -that's just it. It expresses my idea better than a whole library -could. What has that to do with me? _Me_ individually--bothered, -perplexed, sore-hearted, weary _me_, hungry for soul-comfort. I think -this is the trouble; ministers live too much in their libraries. If -they would set fire to them, and study human nature more, the world -would be the gainer. They need to get out of the old time-crusted -groove. To stir round a bit, and see something besides Jeroboam; to -know the tragedies that are going on in the lives of their -parishioners, and find out the alleviations and the remedy. We have -got to live on earth a while before we "get to heaven." It might be as -well to consider that occasionally. It is quite as important to show -us how to live here as how to get there. - -I don't believe in a person's eyes being so fixed on heaven, that he -goes blundering over everybody's corns on the way there. If that's his -Christianity, the sooner he gets tripped up the better. _I_ saw "a -Christian" the other day. It was a workingman, who, noticing across -the street a little girl of seven years, trying to lift with her -little cold fingers a bundle, and poise it on her head, put down his -box of tools, went across the street and lifted it up for her, and -with a cheery "there now, my dear," went smiling on his way. - - * * * * * - -Oh, if clergymen would only study their fellow men more. If they would -less often try to unravel some double-twisted theological knot, which, -if pulled out straight, would never carry one drop of balm to a -suffering fellow-being, or teach him how to bear bravely and patiently -the trials, under which soul and body are ready to faint. If, looking -into some yearning face before them on a Sunday, they would preach -only to its wistful asking for spiritual help, in words easy to be -understood--in heart-tones not to be mistaken--how different would -Sundays seem, to many _women_, at least, whose heart-aches, and -unshared burdens, none but their Maker knows. "Heavy laden!" Let our -clergymen never forget that phrase in their abstruse examination of -text and context. Let them not forget that as Lazarus watched for the -falling crumbs from Dives' table, so some poor harassed soul before -them may be sitting with expectant ear, for the hopeful words, that -shall give courage to shoulder again the weary burden. I sometimes -wonder, were I a clergyman, _could_ I preach in this way to nodding -plumes, and flashing jewels, and rustling silks? Would not my very -soul be paralyzed within me, as theirs seems to be? And then I wish -that _nobody_ could own a velvet cushioned pew in church; that the -doors of all churches were open to every man and woman, in whatsoever -garb they might chance to wear in passing, and _not_ parcelled and -divided off for the reception of certain classes, and the exclusion -(for it amounts to that) of those who most need spiritual help and -teaching. You tell me that there are places provided for such people. -So there are cars for colored people to ride in. _My_ Christianity, if -I have any, builds up no such walls of separation. How often have I -seen a face loitering at a church threshold, listening to the swelling -notes of the organ, and longing to go in, were it not for the wide -social gulf between itself and those who assembled--I will not say -worshipped--there, and I know if that clergyman, inside that church, -spoke as his Master spake when on earth, that he would soon preach to -empty walls. They _want_ husks; they pay handsomely for husks, and -they get them, I say in my vexation, as the door swings on its hinges -in some poor creature's face, and he wanders forth to struggle unaided -as best he may with a poor man's temptations. Our Roman Catholic -brethren are wiser. Their creed is not my creed, save this part of it: -"That the rich and the poor meet here together, and the Lord is the -Maker of them all." I often go there to see it. I am glad when the -poor servant drops on her knees in the aisle, and makes the sign of -the cross, that nobody bids her rise, to make way for a silken robe -that may be waiting behind her. I am glad the mother of many little -children may drop in for a brief moment, before the altar, to -recognize her spiritual needs, and then pass out to the cares she may -not longer lose sight of. I do not believe as they do, but it gladdens -my heart all the same, that one man is as good as his neighbor at -least _there_--before God. I breathe freer at the thought. I can sit -in a corner and watch them pass in and out, and rejoice that every -one, how humble soever, _feels_ that he or she _is_ that church, just -as much as the richest foreigner from the cathedrals of the old world, -whom they may jostle in passing out. Said one poor girl to me--"I -don't care what happens to me, or how hard I work through the week, if -I can get away to my Sunday morning mass." She was a woman to be sure, -and women, high and low, have more spirituality than men. _They_ can't -do without their church--sometimes, I am sorry to say, not even with -it; for, as the same servant solemnly and truthfully remarked to me, -"Even then the devil is sometimes too strong for 'em!" - - * * * * * - -A fashionable church is more distasteful to me because memory always -conjures up certain pleasant country Sundays of long ago. Ah! that walk -through the shady sweet-briar roads, full of perfume, and song, and -dew, to the village church, in whose ample shed were tied Dobbins of -every shape and color, switching the flies with their long tails, and -neighing friendly acquaintance with each other. Oh! the wide open -windows of the church, guiltless of painted apostles and dropsical -cherubs, where the breeze played through, bringing with it the sweet -odor of clover and honeysuckle and new-mown hay, and the drowsy hum of -happy insect life, and now and then a little bird, who sang his little -song _without pay_, and flitted out again. Oh! the good old snow-haired -patriarchs--who _didn't_ dye their hair or whiskers--leaning on their -sticks, followed by chubby little grandchildren, whose cheeks rivalled -the reddest apples in their orchards. Then the farmers' wives, with -belts they could breathe under, with ample chests and sunny glances of -content at Susan, and Nancy, and Tommy, in their best Sunday clothes. -Then the good old-fashioned singing, with which nobody found fault, -though a crack-voiced old deacon did join in, because he was too happy -to keep silent about "Jordan." Then the hand-shaking after service, and -the hearty good-will to "the minister and his folks." Then the -adjournment to the grove near by, to pass the intermission till the -afternoon service, and the selection of the sweetest and shadiest spot -to unpack the lunch baskets. The shifting light through the branches, -upon the pretty heads of the country girls, with their fresh cheeks and -shining hair and blue ribbons. And after doughnuts and cheese and -apple-pie, were shared and eaten, the ramble after wild-flowers round -the roots of the mossy old trees, or the selection of the prettiest -oak leaves to make wreaths for pretty heads, and the shy looks of -admiration of the rustic beaux as they were severally adjusted. Then -the little group under the trees, singing psalm tunes, as the matrons -wandered over to the grave-yard to read for the hundredth time the -little word "Anna," or "Joseph," or "Samuel," inscribed on some -headstone, from which they pulled away the intrusive grass or clover, -plucking a little leaf as they left, and hiding it in their ample, -motherly bosoms. - -All this came to me as I sat in that hot, stifled, painted-window, -fashionable church, listening to the dull monotone about the Hittites, -from which I reaped nothing but irritation; and I wished I was a -school-girl again, back in that lovely village in New Hampshire, where -Sundays were not opening days for millinery; where people went to -church because they _loved_ it, and not because it was "respectable" -to be seen there once a day; where heaven's light was not excluded for -any dim taper of man's lighting, and one could sing though he had not -performed during the week at the opera; and the doxology rang out as -only farmers' lungs can make it. I am glad I had this school-girl -experience of lovely, balmy, country Sundays, though it spoils me for -the formal, city Sunday. Every summer, when I go to the country, I -hunt up some old church like this, which all the winter I have longed -for. Though, truth to tell, what with city boarders who infest them, -with their perfume and point-lace, and rustling silks, my country -church is getting more difficult every year to find. How it spoils it -all, when some grand city dame comes sailing in, with her astounding -millinery devices, to profane my simple country church and astonish -its simple worshippers! My dear madam, for _my_ sake, please this -summer "_say_ your prayers" on the piazza of the grand hotel, -afflicted by yourself and your seven mammoth travelling trunks. - - * * * * * - -I strayed into a strange church not long since, chose my seat, and sat -down. Sextons are polite; but they have a way of marching one up, -through a long aisle, under the very shadow of the pulpit, and under -the noses of an expectant congregation, when unfortunately I have a -fancy for a quiet, out of the way corner. The church was plain and -neat, and nicely dressed, with its shining bunches of holly, and its -stars, and its green wreathed-pillars. The temperature of the place -was pleasant, and the bright lights, and the sweet tones of the organ, -were all promotive of serenity and cheerfulness. The congregation -dropped in, in groups and families, and took their places. They were -not fashionable people; evidently they were workers on week-days. The -men and the women, and even the children, had that look, in spite of -their Sunday clothes. So much the more glad was I that they had such a -bright, cheerful church to come to. By and by the minister came in. -Now, thought I, God grant his sermon be cheerful too; for these are -people who lead no holiday lives, and all the more need a lift out of -it on Sunday. The burden of the first hymn he chose was "death's cold -arms;" read in a tone studiedly corresponding to its cheerful -sentiment. A wail from the organ preceded the singing, whose dolor -affected me like a toss-out into a snow-drift. Then the minister rose. -His first salutation was "My _dying_ friends." Then he proceeded to -inform them that the old year was dying. That there it lay, with its -great hands crossed over its mighty heart, and the sepulchre yawning -for its last pulsation. Then he reminded them that very likely many of -those present would be in that very condition before the close of the -new year. Then he told the young folks a frightful story about a dying -young man whose friends sent for him (the speaker.) A young man who -_hadn't_ joined the church. When he got there, he said, "reason had -deserted its throne;" which was his way of saying that the young man -was crazy, and his way of inferring that it was a judgment on him for -not "having joined the church." Then he said, that though they waited -and waited for his reason to come back, his soul fled away without, -and the inference was that _it fled to hell_. He didn't recognize any -charitable possibility that much _might_ have passed between that -young man's soul and its Maker, though _not_ expressed either to -friends or pastor, which might savor of _heaven_ instead of _hell_, -and that--although he had not joined the church;--not a clue was left -for the faintest hope for any of his friends that might happen to be -present, that this young man's soul was not eternally dammed. - -What right, indeed, _had_ the Almighty to know more of one of his -congregation than he himself? What right had He to pardon a fleeting -soul, with no shriving from its pastoral keeper? I say this in no -spirit of irreverence. But, oh! why _will_ clergymen persist in -_scaring_ people to heaven? Why darken lives heavily laden with toil, -discouragement, and care through the six days of the week, by adding -to its depressing weight on Sunday? Has "Come unto me ye heavy laden" -no place in their Bible? Is "God is Love" blotted from out its pages? -Is the human heart--especially the _youthful_ heart--untouchable by -any appeal save the cowardly one of fear? Would those young people, -when out of leading-strings, _continue_ to look upon life through the -charnel-house spectacles of this spiritual teacher? Would there come -no dreadful rebound to those young men and young women, from this -perpetual gloom? These were questions I there asked myself; wisely, or -unwisely, you shall be the judge. - -"Like as a father pitieth his children," I talismanically murmured to -myself, as I left the church, with the last dolorous hymn ringing in -my ear-- - - "When cold in death I lie." - - * * * * * - -How great the change in the temporal condition of the Minister of Old -and Modern Times. The half-fed, ill-paid, scantily-clothed, -over-worked, discouraged "minister" of the olden time is--where is he? -The "minister," before whose pen and paper came the troubled faces of -wife and children; who dreaded the knock of a parishioner, lest it -should involve the diminution of a "salary" which a common day-laborer -might well refuse for its pitiful inadequacy; the minister whose body -was expected to be so Siamesed to his soul, that the "heavenly manna" -would answer equally the demands of both. The minister who must plant -and hoe his own potatoes, but always in a black coat and white -neckcloth. The minister whose children must come up miniature saints, -while all their father's spare time was spent in driving his -parishioners' children safe to heaven. The minister who, when he was -disabled for farther service, was turned out like an old horse to -browse on thistles by the road-side;--_that_ minister, to the credit -of humanity be it said, is among the things that were. Instead--nobody -is astonished at, or finds fault with, paragraphs in the papers -announcing that the Rev. Rufus Rusk was presented by the board of -trustees, in the name of many friends of his congregation, with a -costly autograph album; upon every page of which was found a $10 -greenback, amounting in all to $1,000; and that afterward he was -invited to partake of an elegant collation. Or--that the Rev. Silas -Sands received from his church and congregation securities to the -amount of $10,000, as a testimonial of their esteem for his faithful -services for many years. Or, that the Rev. Henry Cook had a gift of a -commodious and pleasant residence from his church; or, that his -health seeming to require a voyage to Europe, the necessary funds were -promptly and cheerfully placed in his hands by his affectionate -people. - -The community do not faint away at these announcements, as far as I -can find out. They seem to have come to the unanimous conclusion that -the "minister," like other laborers, is "worthy of his hire." For one, -I could wish this knowledge had come sooner; for I bethink me, in my -day, of the good men and true, who have staggered to their graves -without a sympathizing word, or the slightest token of recognition for -services under which soul and body were fainting; and whose bitterest -death-pang was the thought that their children, too young to help -themselves, must, after all this serfdom, be the recipients of a -grudging charity. - -The presence of a clergyman is not now the signal for small children -to be seized with mortal terror; he no longer sits like a night-mare -on the panting chest of merriment. He is merry _himself_. The more -Christianity he has the more cheerful he is, and _ought to be_. He -talks upon other things than the ten commandments. He joins in -innocent games and amusements. If he has an opinion, he dares express -it, though it _may_ differ from that of some "prominent man." He can -fish and shoot, and drive and row, and take a milk punch, like other -free agents without damaging his clerical robe or his usefulness. He -can have beautiful things to make his home attractive, without being -accused of "worldliness." He can wear a nicely fitting coat, or boot, -or hat, without peril to anybody's salvation. He can give a good -dinner, or go to one. He can go to the circus. He can attend the -opera. He can own and drive a fast horse. His stomach consequently -does not, as of yore, cling to his miserable backbone; nor are his -cheeks cavernous; since he draws a free breath, and sneezes when he -see fit, like the laymen. Every day I thank God that the clergyman's -millennium has begun. That his wife looks no longer like a piece of -worn-out old fur, nor his children like spring chickens. That -congregations now feel a pride in their minister, and an honest shame -when he really needs anything which _they_ have, and _he_ has not. -That they no longer hurt his self-respect by their manner of -"_giving_" what he has _earned_ a thousand times over. In short, "the -minister" is no longer a cringing creature, creeping close to the -wall, lest he offend by the mere fact of his existence; but a -brisk-stepping, square-shouldered, broad-chested, round human being, -whom it is pleasant to look at and comforting to listen to, since his -theology is no longer as pinched as his larder. - - * * * * * - -As to "the minister's wife" of the olden time, where is _she_? The -ubiquitous "minister's wife," who must make and mend, and bake and -brew, and churn, and have children, and nurse and educate them, and -receive calls at all hours, with a sweet smile on her face, and thank -everybody for reminding her of what they consider her short-comings; -who must attend funerals, and weddings, and births, and social -prayer-meetings, and "neighborhood-meetings," and "maternal meetings;" -and contribute calico aprons for the Fejee Islanders, and sew flannel -nightcaps for the Choctaw infants, and cut and make her husband's -trousers; and call as often on Mrs. Deacon Smith, and stay as long to -the minute, as she did on Mrs. Deacon Jones; and who must call a -parish meeting to sit on her new bonnet, if so be that the old one was -pronounced by all the Grundys unfit for farther service. The -minister's wife, who was hunted through the weeks and months and -years, by a carping, stingy parish, till she looked like a worn-out -old piece of fur; behold her now! - -For one, _I_ like to see her pretty bonnet, _I_ like to see her -children shouting in the sunshine, all the same as if their "Pa" -wasn't a minister. I like her daughters to play on the piano, and her -boys to kick round independently and generally like the boys of other -men. I like to see them live in a comfortable house, hung with -pictures and filled with pretty things. I like their table to have -nice cups and saucers, and table-cloths and napkins, and good things -to eat on it. I am glad the minister's wife can stay at home when she -feels like it; and not be trotted out with the toothache of a wet day -to see if there is not danger of Squire Smith's baby sneezing because -the wind is east; under penalty of her husband's dismissal from his -pastoral charge. It does me good to see modern ministers' spouses -hold up their heads and face the daylight like other men's wives, -instead of creeping round on all fours, apologizing for their -existence, and inviting cuffs from people who, born without souls, -consequently can have no call for "a minister." - - - - -_BRIDGET AS SHE WAS, AND BRIDGET AS SHE IS._ - - -A square, solid form, innocent of corsets; a thick, dark -"stuff"-dress, raised high above ankles which are shaped for use; -stout leather shoes; hands red and gloveless; a bonnet of obsolete -shape and trimmings; a face round as the moon, from which the rich red -blood, made of potatoes and pure air, seems ready to burst; great, -honest eyes, always downcast when addressed by those whom the old -country styles "superiors." Such is Bridget when she first steps from -the deck of the good ship "Maria," at Castle Garden. - -Bridget goes to a "place." The pert house-maid titters when she -appears, square and wholesome, like a human cow. Bridget's ears catch -the word "greenhorn," and "she might as well be a grandmother as to be -only seventeen." Bridget looks furtively at the smart, though cheap -dress of the chambermaid, with its inevitable flimsy ruffled skirt and -tinsel buttons, and then at her despised "best dress," which she has -been wont to keep so tidy for Sundays and holidays. She looks at the -thin, paper-soled gaiters of the critical housemaid, and then at her -stout, dew-defying brogans. She looks at her own thick masses of hair, -fastened up with only one idea--to keep it out of the way--and then -at the housemaid's elaborate parlor-imitation of puff and braid and -curl. The view subdues her. She is for the first time ashamed of her -own thick natural tresses. She looks at her peony-red cheeks, and -contrasts them with the sickly but "genteel" pallor of the -housemaid's, and gradually it dawns upon her why they whispered -"greenhorn" when she stepped into the kitchen that first day. But the -housemaid, overpowering as she is to Bridget, suffers a total eclipse -when the lady of the house sweeps past, in full dress. Bridget -looks--marvels, adores, and vows to imitate. _That_ hair! _Those_ -jewels! _That_ long, trailing silk skirt and embroidered petticoat! -_Did_ anybody _ever_? _Could_ Bridget in any way herself reach such -perfection? She blushes to think that only last night in her -home-sickness she actually longed to milk once more the old red cow in -the cherished barn-yard. How ridiculous! She doubts whether that -sumptuous lady ever saw a cow. The idea that she--Bridget--had been -contented all her life to have only cows look at her! By the way--why -should that curly-headed grocer-boy talk so much to the housemaid, -when he brings parcels, and never to her? A light dawns on her dormant -brain. She will fix her hair the way to catch grocer-boys. She too -will have a ruffled skirt to drag through the gutter, though she may -never own any underclothes. She will have some brass ear-rings and -bracelets and things, and some paper-soled boots, with her very first -wages; and as to her bonnet, it is true, she can afford only one for -market and for "mass;" for rain and shine; for heat and for cold; but -by St. Patrick, it shall be a fourteen-dollar "dress-hat," anyhow, -though she may never own a pair of India-rubbers, or a flannel -petticoat, or a pocket-handkerchief, or an umbrella. Just as if this -wasn't a "free country?" Just as if that spiteful housemaid was going -to have all the grocer-boys to herself? Bridget will see about that! -Her eyes are a pretty blue; and as to her hair, it is at least her -own; yes, ma'am; no "rats" will be necessary for _her_; that will save -something. - -And so the brogans, and the dark "stuff"-dress, and the thick -stockings, and shawl, come to grief; and in two months' time flash is -written all over Bridget, from the crown of her showy hat to the tips -of her crucified toes, squeezed into narrow, paper-soled, fashionable, -high-heeled gaiters. And as to her "superiors," gracious goodness! -America is not Ireland, nor England either, I'd have you to know. You -had better just mention that word in Bridget's hearing now, and see -what will come of it! - - * * * * * - -Stealing is a rough, out-and-out word, generally most obnoxious to -those, who are in the daily and hourly practice of it. Now domestics -too often consider that everything that drops upon the carpet is their -personal property, from a common pin to a pair of diamond ear-rings. -"_I found it on the floor_," is considered by them sufficient excuse -when detected in any felonious appropriation. - -Now the laws of gravitation being fixed, this view of the case is -rather startling to mistresses; particularly as childish fingers will -pull at belts till buckles and clasps drop off; at chains till -trinkets are dissevered; at hair till ornamental combs or head pins -tumble out; at fingers till rings slip off on sofas or chairs. - -When dropped, "has Bridget seen them?" _No!_ though she may have swept -the room ten minutes after. _No!_--though you are sure of having them -on when you came into that room, and of not having them on when you -left. No!--Bridget confronts you sturdily--No! You bite your lips and -pocket the loss, with the pleasant recollection that the missing -article was a gift from some dear, perhaps dead friend. Once in a -while, to be sure, you may be fortunate enough, by making a sudden and -successful foray among her goods and chattels, to seize the lost -treasure; but as a general rule, you may as well turn your thoughts -upon some less irritating subject. According to Bridget's code, it is -not "stealing," constantly to use your thread, needles, spools, silk, -tape, thimble and scissors, unlimitedly, to make or mend her own -clothes. Is it not just so much saved from her pocket, toward the -purchase of a brass breast-pin, or a flashy dress-bonnet? -India-rubbers and umbrellas, too, being merely useful articles, she -cannot be expected to provide them for her own use; therefore yours, -one after another, travel off in new and unknown directions, until -you are quite weary of providing substitutes. Occasionally, your -spangled opera-fan spends an evening out, where you yourself never had -the felicity of an introduction; or--your gloves take a short journey, -and return as travellers are apt to do, in rather a soiled and -dilapidated condition. As to cologne and perfumes of all kinds, pomade -and hair-pins, they disappear like dew before the rising sun. "_Where -all the pins go_" is also no longer a mystery. Of course "real ladies" -never notice these little thefts; but accept them in the light of -Bridget's perquisites, only too thankful if she leaves to them the -private and unshared use of their head-brush and tooth-brush. To sum -up the whole thing, there would seem to be only two ways at present of -getting along with servants. One is to be deaf, dumb and blind to -everything that is out of the way; or else to live in a state of -perpetual warfare with their general shortcomings. A man's ultimatum -is, "just step into an Intelligence Office and get another." Alas! -what this "getting another" implies, with all its initiatory -vexations, is known only to the _mistress_ of the house. To make the -moon-struck _master_ of it comprehend that his wife cannot at once, -upon the entrance of a bran new Bridget, dismiss dull care, would take -more breath than most mothers of young and rising families are able to -spare. - - * * * * * - -Then again, if there is anything calculated to "rile" the mistress of -a family, it is this common rejoinder of domestics to any attempt to -regulate the household work. "When I lived with Mrs. Smith I did thus -and so." Will they _never_ be made to understand, be they English, -Irish, German, or Yankee, that Mrs. Smith's way of managing _her_ -family affairs can have no possible connection with Mrs. Jones's plans -for the same. That, on the contrary, Mrs. Jones does not care a -d----ime what hour of the day Mrs Smith breakfasts, dines, or sups; -what days she goes out, or stays in; or in what manner she has her -washing, clear-starching and cooking done. In short, that it is not -only totally irrelevant to the subject to mention her, but a nuisance -and an irritation. _Can_ Betty, or Sally, or Bridget ever comprehend -that, when they engaged to work for Mrs. Jones, they were not engaged -to work according to Mrs. Smith's programme, or their own, or that of -any mistress who has ever existed since Eve, who, blessed be her name, -lived on grapes and things that involved no servants. And can any -phrenologist inform us whether a kitchen-bump exists, which, if -patiently manipulated for a series of months, might in time convey the -idea, that while roast-beef, done to leather, may be palatable to Mrs. -Smith, rare beef may be equally palatable to Mrs. Jones? Also, if by -any elaborate and painstaking process of instruction, Sally, or -Bridget, or Betty might be taught, that the hours for meals in -different families may be allowed to vary, according to the different -tastes and occupations of each, and that without endangering the -Constitution of the United States. In short, that it is about time -that the kitchen-traditions, with which domestics usually swathe -themselves round, like so many mummies, were abolished; and every -family-tub be allowed quietly to repose on its own independent bottom. - -We often wonder how Mr. Jones or Mr. Smith would fancy it, should Tom -Tiddler, their clerk, answer their orders by informing them -gratuitously of the manner in which the firm of Jenkins & Co. -conducted their mercantile business; and how they would stand being -harrowed within an inch of their lives while busily taking an account -of stock, by any such irrelevant nonsense. - -Also: I would respectfully submit whether the petty, every-day -irritations over which Mr. Jones or Mr. Smith smoke themselves stupid, -or explode in naughty words, should not, in the case of Mrs. Jones and -Mrs. Smith, be allowed some other escape-valve than that of the -"Woman's Guide Book's"--_sweet smile_. - - * * * * * - -The other day, in running my eye over a daily paper, I read this -advertisement: "A _genteel_ girl wishes a situation as chambermaid." -Now if there is one word in the English language that I hate more than -another, it is the word _genteel_. No matter where, or how, or to -whom, or by whom it is applied, my very soul sickens at it. It is the -universal and never-failing indorser of every sham ever foisted upon -disgusted human nature. From the "genteel" cabbage-scented -boarding-house, where tobacco emasculated young men "feed," and -mindless, be-flounced, cheap jewel-ried married and unmarried women -smile sweetly on them, to the seventh-rate dry-goods store in some -obscure street, whose clerk sells only the most "genteel" goods at a -shilling per yard; to the "genteel" school-girl who, owning one greasy -silk dress, imagines that she understands her geography better in that -attire than in a quiet, clean, modest "de laine;" to the "genteel" -shop-girl who, pitiably destitute of comfortable underclothes, yet -always owns a "dress hat," and swings about the last showy fashion in -trimming, on some cheap fabric; to the "genteel" cook who goes to -market with her hair dressed as near as may be like her mistress, -fastening it up with a brassy imitation of her gold comb; to the -"genteel" seminary for young ladies, who ride to school in a carriage -with liveried servants, their papa having formerly been one himself. - -But a "genteel" chambermaid! Now, why should this patrician creature -seek such a prosaic, vulgar occupation? Could she be aware that -chambermaids must wield brooms, and dust-pans, and scrubbing-brushes, -and handle pokers, and shovel, and tongs, and ashes. That they may -even be asked to stand at the wash-tub, and be seen by the neighbors -in the disgraceful occupation of hanging out clothes. That they may -occasionally have to answer the door-bell in an apron, and usher -finely-dressed ladies into the parlor; or be asked to take a baby out -for an airing, and be stamped at once by the public as a person who -"works for a living." How can a "genteel" chambermaid calmly -contemplate such degradation, least of all perform such duties -faithfully and well? Would not any sensible lady, wishing a -chambermaid, see at once that the thing was impossible? Would she not -know that she might ring her bell till the wire gave out, before this -"genteel" young woman would think it expedient to answer it till she -was ready? And when she sent her up stairs to tidy her chamber, would -she not be sure that this "genteel" creature would probably spend the -time in trying on her mistress' last new opera-hat before the -toilet-glass? And if she sent her out on an errand, involving even a -moderately sized bundle, would not this "genteel" young woman probably -take a circuitous route through back streets to hide her ignominy? - -Heavens! what a relief it is to see people self-poised and satisfied -with their honest occupations, making no attempt to veneer them over -with a thin polish of gentility. Such I am happy to say there still -are, in humble circumstances, notwithstanding the bad example -constantly set them by the moneyed class in our country, who are -servilely and snobbishly bent on aping all the aristocratic -absurdities of the old country. "_Genteel!_" Faugh! even the -detestable expression-word "FUST-rate" is music to my ears after it. - - * * * * * - -After all, I am not sure that my sympathies are not enlisted much more -strongly on the side of servants than of their mistresses, who at any -moment can show them the door at their capricious will, without a -passport to any other place of shelter. Their lot is often at best a -hard one;--the best wages being a very inadequate equivalent for the -great gulf which, in many cases, separates the servant from her -employer as effectually, as if her woman's nature had no need of human -love and human sympathy; as if she did not often bear her secret -burden of sorrow with a heroism, which should cause a blush on the -cheek of her who sits with folded hands in the parlor, all neglectful -of woman's mission to her dependent sister. They who have listened -vainly for kind words know how much they may lighten toil. They who -have shut up in their aching hearts the grief which no friendly look -or tone has ever unlocked, know how it will fester and rankle. They -who have felt every ounce of their flesh taxed unrelentingly day by -day to the utmost, with no approving "well done" to lighten slumber -when the heavy yoke is nightly cast down, know what is servitude of -_soul_, as well as body. - -I could wish that mistresses oftener thought of this; oftener sat down -in the gloomy, underground kitchen or basement, and inquired after the -absent mother, or brother, or sister, in the old country; oftener -placed in the toil-hardened hand the book or paper, or pamphlet, to -shorten the tedious evening in the comfortless kitchen, while the -merry laugh in which the servant has no share, resounds from the -cheerful parlor above. - -I do not forget that there are bad servants, as that there are -unfeeling, inhuman mistresses who make them. I know that some are -wasteful and improvident; and I know, from experience, that there are -cases where the sympathy and kindness I speak of are repaid with -ingratitude; but these are exceptional cases; and think how much hard -usage from the world such an one must have received, ere all her sweet -and womanly feelings could be thus blunted. I must think that a humane -mistress generally makes a good servant. I know that some of the -servants of the present day dress ridiculously above their -station,--so does often the mistress; and why is a poor, unenlightened -girl more reproachable, for spending the wages of a month on a flimsy, -gaudy bonnet, or dress, than is her employer, for trailing a -seventy-five or one hundred dollar robe through ferryboats and -omnibuses, while her grocer and milliner dun in vain for their bills? - -Let the reform in this and other respects begin in the parlor. Our -mothers and grandmothers were not always changing servants. _They_ did -not disdain to lend a helping hand, when a press of work, or company, -made the burden of servitude too heavy. A headache in the kitchen, to -them, meant the same as a headache in the parlor, and, God be thanked, -a heart-ache too. The soul of a servant was of as much account as that -of her mistress; her creed was respected, and no elaborate dinner came -between her and the church-door. How can you expect such unfaltering, -unswerving devotion to your interests, when you so wholly ignore -theirs?--when you spur and goad them on like beasts of burden, and -with as little thought for their human wants and needs? No wonder if -you have poor service--eye-service. I would like to see you do better -in their place. Lift up the cloud, and let the sun shine through into -their underground homes, if it is not a mockery to use the word home. -We exact too much--we give too little,--too little sympathy--too -little kindness--too little encouragement. "Love thy neighbor as -thyself" would settle it all. You don't do it--I don't do it, though I -try to. Human laws may require only of the mistress that she pay her -servant's wages punctually; God's law requires much more--let -conscience be its interpreter;--then, and not till then, we shall have -good servants. - - * * * * * - -I suppose the most jealous fault-finders on this subject will concede -that mistresses themselves are not quite perfect; of course, they have -often real causes of irritation and vexation apart from the kitchen, -which, we are afraid, do not dispose them to look leniently upon any -additional trouble there. A "flare up" with Betty or Bridget, is apt -to be the last drop in the bucket, the last feather in the balance. -But, unfortunately, it is not taken into account that Betty and -Bridget, being human, may have their little world of hopes and joys, -fears and sorrows, quite disconnected with your gridiron, and -dustpan, and ash-barrel. They also have heads and backs to ache, and -hearts too, though this may not always be taken into the account, by -employers, who, satisfied with punctually paying the stipulated wages -when due, and getting as much as possible out of them as an -equivalent, consider their duty ended. Some day your dinner is over or -under cooked; that day Bridget received a letter from the "old -country" with a "black seal." She did not come to you with her -trouble; why should she? when she might have been a mere machine for -any sympathetic word or look that has ever passed from your woman's -heart or eyes to hers. All you know is that your dinner is overcooked, -and a sharp rebuke follows, and from the fulness of a tried spirit an -"impertinent" answer comes, and you show Bridget the door, preaching a -sermon on the neglectfulness and insolence of servants. Had you been -the mistress you should have been, Bridget would naturally have come -to you with her trouble, and you would willingly have excused at such -a time any little oversight in her duty to you, even though on that -day you "had company to dinner." Take another case. On some day in the -week, when the heaviest family labor falls due, your girl whose -province it is to accomplish it, rises with an aching head, or limbs, -as you sometimes do yourself, and as you do not, she rises from bed -all the same as if she were well. As you have no use for your lips in -the kitchen, save to give an order, and no eyes, save to look after -defects of economy or carefulness, you do not see her languid eyes, or -ask the cause of any apparent dilatoriness; you simply "hurry up" -things generally, and go up stairs. Now, suppose you had kindly asked -the girl if she felt quite well, and finding she did not, offered to -lift from her aching shoulders that day's burden; _suppose_ that? why, -ten to one, it would have done her more good than could any doctor who -ever took a degree, and the poor thing, under its inspiration, might -actually have staggered through the day's work, had you been so cruel -as to allow her. - -I wish mistresses would sometimes ask themselves how long, under the -depressing conditions and circumstances of servitude above alluded to, -_they_ could render faithful conscientious labor? Feeling that doing -well, there was no word of praise; and that doing ill, there was no -excuse or palliation; that falling sick or disabled, from over work or -natural causes, there was no sympathy, but only nervous anxiety for a -speedy substitute. - -Again. Many mistresses utterly object to "a beau" in the kitchen. Now -could anything be more unnatural and absurd than this? though, of -course, there should be limitations as to late hours. Marriage, with -many of these domestics, is the heaven of rest and independence to -which they look forward; and even if they are to work quite as hard -"for a living," as a poor man's wife, as they have for you, they may -possibly have, as wives--heaven help them--a little love to sweeten -it; and surely no wife or mother should shut her heart utterly to -this view of the case. As to the girl's "bettering herself," let her -take the chances, if she chooses, as you have. Possibly, some lady who -reads this may say, oh, all this talk about servants is nonsense. I've -often petted girls till I have spoiled them, and it is of no use. Very -true, madam, "petting" is of no use; but it _is_ of use to treat them -at all times kindly, and humanely, and above all things _justly_, as -we--women--in their places, should wish to be treated ourselves. It -_is_ of use to make a little sunshine in those gloomy kitchens, by a -kind good night, or good morning, or some such recognition of their -presence, other than a desire to be waited upon. It _is_ of use, when -they are sick or down-hearted, to turn _to_, not _from_ them. All this -can be done, and not "spoil" them. And how much better, even as far as -yourself is concerned, to feel that their service is that of love and -good-will, instead of mere "eye-service." A lady once asked a servant -for her references. There was more justice and less "impertinence," -than appears at the first blush, in her reply, "and where are _yours_, -ma'am?" - - - - -_A CHAPTER ON TOBACCO._ - - -I hate Tobacco. I _don't_ hate all its devotees. Oh, no. In its ranks -are men who would gladly die for their country if need be; and yet no -slave whom they would lay down a life to free, shall be more truly a -slave, than are these patriots to the tyrant Tobacco. - -Well--what then? manhood inquires, with his hat cocked defiantly, and -his arms a-kimbo. What then? Only this: we women so wish you hadn't so -disgusting and dirty a habit. Now reach out your hand, take a seat -beside me, and let me talk to you about it. - -In the first place, bear with a little egotism. I am not six feet -high; I belong to no Woman's Rights Convention, if that be a crime in -your eyes. I'm just a merry woman, four feet in stature, who would -much rather love than hate everything and everybody in this lovely -world, if I could; who had much rather have friends than enemies if I -could, without muzzling my thoughts, or my pen. - -If not--I am going to shut up my umbrella, and let the shower come. _I -hate tobacco._ I am a clean creature, and it smells bad. Smells is a -mild word; but I will use it, being a woman. I deny your right to -smell bad in my presence, or the presence of any of our clean -sisterhood. I deny your right to poison the air of our parlors, or our -bed-rooms, with your breath, or your tobacco-saturated clothing, even -though you _may_ be our husbands. Terrible creature! I think I hear -you say; I am glad you are not my wife. So am I. How would you like -it, had you arranged your parlor with dainty fingers, and were -rejoicing in the sweet-scented mignonette, and violets, and -heliotrope, in the pretty vase on your table--forgetting in your -happiness that Bridget and Biddy had vexed your soul the greater part -of the day--and in your nicely-cushioned chair, were resting your -spirit even more than your body, to have a man enter, with that -detestable bar-room odor, and spoil it all? Or worse: light a cigar or -pipe in your very presence, and puff away as if it were the heaven to -you which it appears to be to him. The "Guide to Women" would tell you -that you should "let him smoke, for fear he might do worse." Suppose -we try that boot on the other foot, and let women drink for the same -reason? Of course you see, to begin with, that I consider woman as -much an individual as her husband. With just as much right to an -opinion, a taste, a smell, or a preference of any kind, as himself; -and just as much right to express and maintain it, if she see fit. -Now, to my belief, drinking would brutify her physically and morally -no quicker than tobacco does him. Because a man is able to stand on -his two legs, it does not follow that his perceptions are clear; that -his temper is not irritable, or morose; that his vitality by long -abuse is _not_ nearly exhausted, and that, when he should be in the -prime and vigor of a glorious manhood. It does not follow that there -are not empty chairs around his table, and little graves in the -churchyard, for which he is responsible. It does not follow that a -sharp answer, a careless indifference, has not taken the place of -loving words and an earnest desire to contribute his share of sunlight -in his home. When I say that tobacco _brutifies_ its devotees, I know -what I am talking about. When a man carries his lighted pipe, or -cigar, into the bed-room of a sick child, to whom pure air is life or -death, we may infer that his selfishness in this regard has reached -its climax. Or when he continues to smoke in the presence of his wife, -knowing that sick headache is the sure result, we may draw the same -inference. Not to mention that your smoker always selects the -pleasantest window, or the best seat on a piazza, or the shadiest seat -under a tree, forcing the ladies of the family, or the circle, -wherever he is, to breathe this bad odor, or remove to some other -locality. Nor does the bland "_I trust this is not unpleasant to you_" -help the matter; while women, so much more magnanimous than men, -receive this reward for their "polite" evasion of the subject. - - * * * * * - -I go into a newspaper store to purchase a magazine; there stands a -gentleman (?) at my side with a lighted cigar in his mouth, coolly -looking over the papers at his leisure. If I beat a hasty retreat to -another establishment of the same kind, I find other gentlemen (?) -similarly employed. If I get into a street car, even if no one is -"smoking upon the platform," five out of ten of the male passengers -will have parted with their cigars only at the moment of entering, -poisoning still further the close car-atmosphere with this hated -effluvia. At places of evening amusement, concerts, lectures and the -like, the same thing occurs; indeed, they often repeat the horror by -renewing the tobacco-smoke in the intervals during the performance. If -I walk in the street, vile breaths are puffed in my face from pipes or -cigars by every second gentleman (?) who passes. I am getting sick of -"_gentlemen_;" it would be a relief if the great showman would -advertise us a _man_. If a "gentleman" comes in to make an evening -call, he deposits his cigar stump on your front steps just before -entering, and very likely lights another in your front entry before -departing. The man who brings you a parcel, often stands in the entry -smoking, while waiting further orders. The emissary of the butcher, or -grocer, perfumes your kitchen and area in the same manner. Your cook's -male "cousin" smokes when he makes his evening calls. In the railroad -car you are stifled with the remains of tobacco-smoke. In steamboats, -in hotels, it is the same, whensoever a male creature enters. If a -lady exerts herself to get up, or oversee, or engineer, a nice dinner -for some gentleman (?) friends of her husband's, they prove their -appreciation of her good dinner and her good company, by retiring to -another room than that the hostess is in, the moment they have eaten -to satiety, in order that they may smoke till it is time to leave her -very hospitable house. - -Said a prominent editor one day to me: "You are right, madam, the -moment a man becomes wedded to tobacco he becomes a--hog!" This is a -strong way of putting it, but the subject is _strong_ in every sense. -Physicians will tell you that men who would resent the imputation that -they were not good husbands and fathers, will selfishly poison the air -of a sick-room and distress the breathing of the invalid without -remorse. I repeat it, I am firmly of the opinion, that tobacco -brutifies equally with drink. The process may be slower, but it is -just as sure. A drunkard will sometimes own that drink hurts him; or -that he drinks too much; or would be better without it; a smoker -_never_. 'Tis true, he will admit that Tom Jones, or Sam Smith, smokes -too much; but not that _he_ ever did, or shall. In fact, he is sure -that in _his_ case tobacco is beneficial; "it soothes him when he is -irritable," which, thanks to tobacco, is so often, that the soothing -process is perpetual. A man said one day to his comrade in the street -cars, "Tom, I really think I should have given up smoking long since, -had not my wife constantly said it was so disagreeable." What better -proof could he have given of its brutalizing tendency? - -I know no place where "smoking not allowed," is not a dead letter, -except in church. Even there the cigar stump is often tossed away at -the church porch, and men sit impatiently fingering the vile weed -which is destined to console them, the minute the benediction shall -have been pronounced; now, when a gentleman (?) becomes so enslaved by -this bad habit, that neither the disgust of the female inmates of his -own house, or other houses, who suffer by it, fails to move him, even -though they may not, for the sake of peace, complain; and when the -terrible sight of this smoker's own little son, already going to and -from school with cigar and satchel in company, does not shame him; -when any society, how intelligent soever, is distasteful, nay, -_unbearable_ to him, where tobacco is not permitted, for one I would -not toss up a pin for the choice between that man and a drunkard. - - * * * * * - -People say: Whence all these matinées of all kinds, operatic and -other, that are springing up in our cities? I answer--Tobacco! "No -smoking allowed here"--if over the entrance of Paradise--and the men -would prefer their pipe with the accompaniment of the infernal -regions. A man can't very well talk with a pipe in his mouth. If a -pipe he prefers to all things else, from the time he returns to his -house at night till he goes to bed, his wife naturally wearies of -watching that smoke curl, though she may be an angel in his eyes in -every other respect. It is dull music, after the petty little -musquito-stinging household cares of the day, to which even the best -mothers and most capable housekeepers are subject, in a greater or -less degree. "When he lights that cigar every night I want to scream," -said a lovely woman to me. "I am _so_ tired of the house at night; I -want him to talk to me, or go out with me; I should take hold of my -cares and duties the next day with so much more heart if he did. I -love my home; I love my babies; I love my husband; but oh, he _don't_ -know how tired and nervous I often get by night, and that silence, and -that suffocating smoke, are so intolerable to me then." Why don't she -_say_ so? you ask. Why? because women are so hungry for a little love, -and find it so impossible to live without it, that they often endure -any amount of this kind of selfishness rather than hazard its loss for -a day. Now, _is_ this right? Is it what a wife is entitled to, after -trying all day to make home bright and happy for her husband? - -"And all this fuss about a little smoke," I hear Tom exclaim. - -Not exactly. _It is the injustice of men toward women_ for which it -stands the horrible, nauseating symbol. Suppose your wife, fancying -the smell of asafoetida, should keep an uncorked phial of it in her -parlor and bed-room? How long would _you_ stand it? Suppose she should -smoke _herself_ or "dip" in self-defence? Suppose that sweet breath -were to become nauseous? her curls unbearable in near proximity? -Suppose she grew slatternly in her habits in consequence, as all -smokers eventually do? Suppose her little baby's clothes were -saturated with tobacco? In short, that you were disgusted with its -presence or results every hour in the twenty-four, as you would be in -your wife's case. - -Now I ask, isn't it just as much a man's duty to be clean and -presentable and inviting to his wife, as it is hers toward him? Well, -replies Tom, men don't look at the subject in that way, and never -will, and now, what are you going to do about it? - -Me? nothing. The men will continue to put up their heels at night, and -smoke till bed-time, and think it a bore to go out, _i. e._ with their -wives, and the disgusted women, who really _want_ to be good wives, -and would, if their husbands were more just and manly, will go as they -have begun to do, to the next day's operatic matinée for relaxation; -and after the matinée, a cup of chocolate or an ice-cream tastes well; -and sometimes one meets an agreeable _male_ friend there, who does -_not_ prefer a solitary pipe or a cigar to a little bright and -enlivening conversation with this tired lady. - -Women have a right to protest against that which withdraws husbands, -fathers and brothers from their society as soon as they cross the -threshold of home, or else dooms them to inhale a nauseous atmosphere, -and watch the unsocial puff--puff--which is monotonous enough to drive -any woman crazy who already has had quite too much monotony during the -day, and finds little variety enough, in watching the curl from that -eternal pipe. I blame no woman whose only evening amusement is this, -after her children are put to sleep, for protesting, and roundly too, -against such unmitigated selfishness; I blame no woman, whose husband, -when he does occasionally drum up sufficient vitality to wait upon her -out, for requesting that the omnipresent pipe or cigar may for once be -dispensed with, as she takes his arm, on that memorable occasion. As I -said before, men become so utterly brutified by this disgusting habit, -that they lose all sense of politeness and cleanliness. It is quite -time they were reminded of it. - - - - -_GIVE THE CONVICTS A CHANCE._ - - -It seems to me that of all the charities in our great city, none is -more deserving of the attention of the benevolent, than that which -takes the little children of our poor, from the moral and physical -filth of their wretched surroundings, and places them in healthy, pure -homes in the country. No one, who has ever had heart and courage to -penetrate the terrible lanes, alleys and by-ways of poverty and crime -in New York, but asks himself with a shudder, as he looks at the -little ones there, what sort of men and women will these children be? -How far will He who counteth the fall of the sparrow, hold _them_ -responsible for the dreadful teachings of their infancy? Infancy? the -word is a mockery. They have none. To feign--to cheat--to steal--this -is their alphabet. As to the fathers and mothers, who fold their lazy -hands and sit down in these pestiferous places to await the "penny" -pittances their children may collect, or their little pilferings which -may be turned into "pennies," the sooner the doors of our jails and -penitentiaries close on _them_ the better. _Their_ case is hopeless; -since sin has reached its climax when it deliberately and -systematically debauches childhood. But the little ones? _They_ might -be saved. They _are_ being saved; that's a comfort to know. Daily they -are being collected, by good men who make it their chief occupation to -wash, feed, clothe and transplant these sickly shoots of poverty, into -the fair garden of the West. Many a farmer's family there has a rosy -face by its hearth, which you would never recognize to be the squalid -little creature, whose shivering palm was extended to you at midnight, -as you returned home from some place of amusement in the city. There -it is being taught useful and _happy_ labor. There is pure air--sweet -food, and enough of it. Good company and good books. _There_ are -Sundays. Blessed be Sundays! for injudiciously as they are sometimes -observed even by good people, be sure that sweet old hymn will go -singing through the future life of these children, like a golden -thread, gleaming out from the dark woof of care and trouble: - - "Nearer, my God, to Thee, - Nearer to Thee; - E'en though it be a cross - That raiseth me, - Still all my song shall be, - Nearer, my God, to Thee, - Nearer to Thee." - -No matter where they go, this hymn, and others like it, shall go with -them; cleansing and purifying, like a breath of sweet air, all the -dreadful remembrances of that foul home from which they were rescued. -Think what it were to change the life, temporal and eternal, of _one_ -such child! And God be praised, the number of the saved is Legion. -How like a dreadful dream to the girl, in a happy home of her own, -with her own innocent baby on its father's knee, will be the pit of -degradation, where, but for this charity, _she_ might have been lost. -She realizes it fully now, when she looks into her little baby's face, -and grows chill with fear as she kisses it. And her brother! the hale, -sturdy-honest, well-to-do farmer, who comes in of an evening to talk -about _his_ farm and _his_ crops, and _his_ barns full of plenty--can -that be Johnny? once with the hat guiltless of a brim, the coat with -one flap, the trousers with half a leg, and the mouth full of oaths -and obscenity! Can that be Johnny, who dodged policemen so adroitly, -and was on the high road to the gallows in short jackets? This is not -fiction. This is not imagination. The biographies of great men and -women will yet adorn your library shelves, whose childhood had such -rescuing as this. One gets the heart-ache at every step in New York, -if he has eyes or ears for aught save Mammon; and yet how like -sun-beams, now and then, across this darkness, comes some noble -charity, of whose existence you knew nothing, till some unpretentious -sign arrests the eye, in some street never before travelled by you in -your daily rounds--some "Asylum," or "Retreat," or "Home," or -Hospital, at whose gate Mercy stands with outstretched arms, nor asks -the poor unfortunate whom it shelters, its creed or its nationality, -but says only--Here is comfort and help. - -This much concerning _organized_ Charities. But of the noble women, -and men, too, who daily and quietly stretch out helping hands, giving -time and money, without other reward than the satisfaction such acts -bring to a kind heart--of them, surely there is One who will keep -record. - - * * * * * - -I see other signs of the millennium. In Massachusetts they have -Evening Lectures for the benefit of the convicts in the State Prison. -I shall never forget my tour through a State Prison, one bright summer -day. The hopeless faces of the men in the workshops. Their sullen -looks when by twos they marched in long procession across the yard, -under guard, to their dinner. I shall never forget the poor wretches -in the carding-room, breathing all day, and every day, the little -fuzzy, floating particles, which set me coughing painfully the moment -I entered the door; and when I asked the attendant if it did not -injure their lungs, the cool matter-of-fact manner in which he -answered, "Yes--they didn't live very long." I remember well the -horrid, contracted cells, against whose walls I know I should have -dashed out my brains, were I locked in long enough. And well too could -I understand what a horror Sunday must be, imprisoned there, _all_ -day, with only the interval of an hour of church; alone with torturing -memories; till they prayed for the light of Monday morning and -work--work!--ever so _hard_ work, so that it only brought contact and -companionship with their kind, speechless though it were. - -I remember, too, being told, on inquiry, that the convicts were -allowed books to read in their cells on Sunday; but on examination of -the cells, I found many so dark that even at midday the offer of -"books to read" would have been a mere mockery. I remember, too, the -emaciated, hollow-eyed sick men, lounging on benches in the yard, and, -when I pitied them, being told that they often "feigned sickness." -Heaven knows I should not have blamed them for feigning anything, when -humanity so slept that visitors were told _in their hearing_ of their -crimes, as they were severally pointed out, and their names and former -professions and places of residence given; here a doctor, there a -minister, who had fallen from grace. - -Surely, thought I, there _must_ come a time when a better way than -this shall be found to "_reform_" men. Surely it can never be done by -driving them mad with unrelieved severity like this. For I remembered -a letter I received from a convict, to whom some printed word of mine -had accidentally floated through his prison bars, and "helped him," so -he wrote me, "to bear up till the time for his release came, when he -hoped to be a better man." - -Had I never written but that one word, I am glad to have lived for -that man's sake. - -And now what a change! These poor creatures, instead of darkness and -solitude--with hate, and revenge, and despair maddening them--have -evening lectures for their profit and encouragement. Something to -_think_ about in the long hours of wakefulness and sickness; -something to look forward to when the day's unrewarded toil is done; -something to rout the demons that crouch in their cells and wait their -coming at night, till any other hell than this would seem heaven. Let -us hope that the example of good old Massachusetts in this and many -other praiseworthy regards may be widely imitated. - -Surely as God lives, there is a window in the soul of every debased -man and woman, at which Love and Mercy may knock and whisper, and be -heard. Nor can warden or overseer or chaplain ever be sure that from -those convict cells is not issuing the stifled cry--No man cares for -_my_ soul. - - - - -_A GLANCE AT WASHINGTON._ - - -I have no means of judging what Washington may look like in sunny -weather; sleet and rain having combined on my visit there, for a -"spell" of the most detestable weather ever encountered by a -traveller. The streets were a quaking jelly of mud, filled with a -motley procession of dirt-incrusted army-wagons, drawn by -wretched-looking horses, the original color of whose hide was known -only to their owners. Military men swarmed on the sidewalks, gossipped -on the steps of public buildings, filled hotel entries, parlors and -dining-rooms, and splashed through mud-puddles with a recklessness -born of camp-initiation. To escape from wet sidewalks into street-cars -was to wade to them literally ankle-deep in mud-jelly. To the -resolute, however, all things are possible; especially when millinery -and dry-goods are counted as naught; I went there to see what was to -be seen, and I saw it. - -The night before I visited the Capitol there came a heavy fall of -snow; the long avenues of trees leading to it looked very beautiful, -bending under their pure white burden, or tossing it lightly off, as -the wind swept by. Every garden seat had a round white cushion, every -statue a snow-crown. No art of man could have improved upon this -festal adorning of nature. The "prospect from the dome" we had to -take, by faith, more's the pity, the snow-king having drawn a veil -over it. Of course I stared about the Rotunda, like my betters. As I -have never "been abroad," I suppose I am not entitled to an opinion -upon the pictures I saw there; but it _did_ strike me that De Soto, -the discoverer of the Mississippi River, who travelled through the -wilderness for that purpose, thousands of miles, exposed to all -dangers and weathers; who lost cattle and men by fatigue and famine, -and was otherwise harassed to the verge of dissolution, could not, at -the moment, when success crowned his efforts, have been found in a -rich crimson jacket with slashed Spanish sleeves, and silk stockings -drawn over well-rounded calves, and an immaculate head of hair, -looking as if it had just emerged from a fashionable barber's shop. I -say it struck _me_ so, but then I'm "only a woman," and have never -been to Italy. It struck me also that their rags, and their dirt, and -their uncombed locks, and their jaded horses, would have looked quite -as picturesque, and had the added advantage of being true to nature. -It occurred to me also that some of the horses of the victorious -generals in the other pictures were very impossible animals, but that -may be owing to some defect in my early education. I could not help -thinking that our great-great-great-grand children might possibly wish -that we had left the _art-selection_ to themselves. It won't matter -much to us then, however. - -How patriotic I felt when I stood on the floor of the Senate! A minute -more, and I should have forgotten my bonnet, and made a speech myself. -It might not have been "in order," but I think it would have been -listened to while it lasted, though when my enthusiasm was over, I -should probably have collapsed into shamefaced consciousness, very -much as do the restored breathers of "the laughing gas." I never heard -a more eloquent or appropriate prayer than was offered at the opening -of the Senate, that day, by a clergyman, whose name I did not learn. -Years ago, and what clergyman would have dared utter such bold words -in such a place? There were no speeches made that morning; and there -was no need; the place itself was inspiration. My breath came quick as -I looked about me. - -As to the "White House," I have no doubt that the upholstery and -carpets are all right--also the chandeliers. For myself I coveted the -green-house and garden, and the fine piazza at the back of the house, -with its view of Arlington Heights and the white tents of the -encampment in the distance. The "East Room," with its Parisian carpet, -would have astonished the ghost of Mrs. John Adams, who used to dry -her clothes there, when it was in an unfinished state. How very -strange it looked to see sentinels on duty before the doors; one -realizes that there "is war," when in Washington and its surroundings, -where railroad gates and public buildings are guarded, and at every -few miles of road up starts a sentinel, and camps are so plentiful -that one ceases to regard them with a curious eye. - - * * * * * - -After walking through the Patent Office at Washington, I had several -reflections. First, a feeling of thankfulness that our innocent -ancestors died without knowing how uncomfortable they were,--minus -these modern improvements. Secondly, how many heads must have ached, -hatching out the ideas there practically perfected. Thirdly, did the -_real_ inventors themselves reap any reward, pecuniary or otherwise, -or, having died "making an effort," did some charlatan, with more -money than brains, filch their discovery and, attaching his name to -it, secure both fame and gold? - -Leaving these vexed questions unsettled, the place is of rare interest -even to the ordinary curiosity-hunter, destitute either of -philosophical or mechanical proclivities. Looking at General -Washington's relics, one cannot but be struck with the simple tastes -of that time. The plates, knives and chairs, which formed part of his -household furniture, would--apart from their associations--be sniffed -at in any fashionable mansion of the present day. And as to his -camp-chest and writing-desk, every mother's 1862-pet, whose budding -moustache is half demolished by parting kisses, is provided with a -better as he goes to "the war." And Washington's coat, waistcoat and -breeches are of a fabric so coarse, that our present officials would -decline wearing the like except under compulsion. The same may be said -of the coat worn by the immortal General Jackson; at the mention of -whose name I will forever remove my bonnet, for his unswerving loyalty -toward, and manly defence of, his zealously slandered wife. Alas for -some of the pluck and spirit that animated the sometime wearers of -those faded old military clothes. But it is too aggravating a theme; -though I _did_ linger over those military buttons, with divers little -thoughts which I should like to have whispered into the President's -ear, and which, if properly carried out, would no doubt save this -nation! - -As to the fifteen flashy silk robes presented by the Japanese -government to ours, I had no desire to get into them. A strange -soldier standing near while I was gazing, stepped up, and with camp -frankness said to me: "now I suppose, being a lady, you can form some -idea of the value of those things." "Oh, yes," said I, "they are like -the bonnets of to-day, expensive in proportion to their ugliness." -Penetrated by the wisdom of my reply, he answered feelingly, "_Just -so_,"--and touching his cap, passed on. Among General Washington's -relics I saw a cane presented to him by Franklin, and a chandelier -presented to Washington by some French magnate, so awkward, inferior -and crude, compared with the splendid affairs of the present day, that -one compassionately wishes, for the donor's sake, that his name were -withheld. I saw also, under glass, the original treaties of several -foreign nations, French and others, with our government. The -autographic signatures of great potentates, yellow with time, was -suggestive. The models of steam-engines, revolvers, torpedoes, -mowing-machines and excavators, were "too many for me;" I might have -looked wise over them, to be sure, like other folks, but had I stood -staring till the millennium I couldn't have comprehended them, so -where was the use of shamming? I just said, that's not in my line, and -inspected the different varieties of hoop-skirts; and though the -masculine mind may not recognize the fact, the perfection to which -those things have arrived by gradual stages is comforting to -contemplate. I say "comforting" advisedly; because if one _must_ drag -round so many yards of dry goods, a cage is better adapted to hang -them on than the human hips. It is my opinion that notwithstanding the -torrent of abuse to which the hoop is and has been subjected, it will -never be _dropped_--save at bed-time. - - * * * * * - -It is a melancholy affair to visit public institutions that have -sprung from the legacies of wealthy persons, so often do they fail to -carry out the philanthropic results so enthusiastically programmed by -the donors. This reflection seemed to me not out of place when leaving -the Smithsonian Institute in Washington. The building itself is fine, -and favorably located, and the grounds about it very attractive; but -dust-covered statues, cobwebs, and a general and indescribable air of -inefficiency in the interior, were painfully palpable, and stood as a -type of other posthumous charities which have come under my notice. In -fact, "_wills_" oftener turn out, "_wonts_" than one imagines, -codiciled and guarded as they may be by the best human ingenuity and -foresight. Snakes are not the only wriggling animals, and dead men are -happy in not being able to return to their old haunts. Some of the -pictured celebrities in the place would have leaped from their frames, -had they heard the irreverent bystanders, who here "doing" the lions, -asking who they were, and gaping at the guide-book recital of their -greatness and goodness, from some companion; or turning an indifferent -joke, in the middle of the narration, upon the cut of the pictured -coat, or hair, or beard. It was an excellent comment upon the wearing, -toil and fret of ambition, which eats the heart out of life, and often -sets aside everything worth living for, to gain--_a name_. The -collection of animals there would be interesting doubtless to the -naturalist; but we often wonder who _but_ he, could take pleasure in -bottled snakes, sprawling, impaled bugs, and stuffed monkeys and -baboons. As to the latter, they are too painful a burlesque upon human -beings, to be regarded with complacency. Their horrible and fiendish -exaggeration of some faces, which all of us have, once or more, in our -lives met, is anything but agreeable. The collection of stuffed birds -in this place is exquisitely beautiful. One lingers _there_, oblivious -of wide-mouthed, hungry-looking bears, standing on their hind legs, or -grinning skulls of Indians, or other delightful monstrosities. These -brilliant birds, orange with black wings, or scarlet wings with black -bodies, or drab with bright little heads, or with the whole body of -the loveliest blue, were beautiful as the most brilliant hued -bouquet. So perfectly were they prepared and mounted, that one waited -expectant for a sweet trill, or an upward flight. There was also a -very curious and pretty exhibition of bird's eggs, of every size and -color, some of them "cuddled" comfortably in little nests. I would -have agreed to leave to the Institution the numerous and precious -volumes of "De Bow's Review" which graced it, for the liberty of -appropriating those bright birds and those pretty eggs. - -One feature in the place was quite novel. Specimens framed under glass -of the hair of some of the Presidents of the United States. Either -these gentlemen were not liberally endowed with this commodity, or -inveterate lion-hunters had taught them a niggardly caution on the -distribution of this article, in view of baldness or a future wig; for -under the names of some of them were only four or six hairs. Most of -them were white or grey; suggestive of rather equivalent repose, for -the craniums from whence they sprang. Of course, one's organ of -reverence would not admit in this case the possibility of the trick -adopted by "pestered" celebrities--attacked in the hair--viz: wickedly -substituting something else for the original coveted article. Of -course not! As to the soldiers and military men passing through -Washington, they must be pleased to know how comfortably they can be -"embalmed," should a chance shot render it necessary. Large signs to -this effect, conspicuously placed, and running the whole length of a -block, stare them remindingly in the face, at every turn. As to -Jackson's equestrian statue, fronting the President's house, I opine -that nobody _but_ General Jackson could have sat on a horse's back in -that rearing condition, without slipping backward over the tail. -However, one forgives everything to an admirer of General Jackson; and -the sculptor evidently had strong faith in his omnipotence, as well as -in the wonderful upward, danger-defying curve of his unique horse's -tail! - - - - -_GLIMPSES OF CAMP LIFE IN WAR TIME._ - - -A visit to the head-quarters of an executive General is a means of -grace. I recommend it to all ladies who, year after year, closing -their disgusted ears to what limpingly passes below stairs, accept its -dawdling results as inevitable. For my own part, my back is up. So -imbued am I with the moral beauty of military discipline, that unless -I can inaugurate its counterpart from garret to cellar, I shall return -in disgust to army-life. - -The idea struck me forcibly one morning before breakfast as I stepped -out into the bright sunshine, to behold a captain drilling his company -for the day. As each musket was presented for inspection, turned -quickly from one side to the other, and tossed lightly back into its -owner's waiting hands, I rushed back to tent and exclaimed: "General, -can you give any reason why we ladies shouldn't do with our pots, pans -and gridirons, each day, what your captain is doing yonder with the -muskets of his men; and with a 'guard-house' to back us up in case of -default or impertinence." "Why--_don't_ you ladies inspect your pots, -pans and gridirons?" inquired General Butler. "When our cooks are -_out_, never for our lives else," I replied. "Poor slaves!" was his -feeling reply. - -"Poor slaves!" I echoed, as I returned to my lovely "drill" and grew -more righteously mad each minute. As I stood there, my dears, I for -one resolved never again to be the pusillanimous wretch to say, "If -you please, Martha," or "will you please, Bridget, bring me this or -that." No--instead, I boldly propose: "Orderly! bring me that baby!" -and when Bridget comes in, with a well-feigned sorrow for the decease -of that stereotyped "friend" who is always waiting to be "waked," and -begs leave of absence, let us answer, _à la militaire_, "Yes--you can -go for awhile; but your 'friend' is not dead, neither are you going to -a wake. I want you to understand that I am not deceived." And when, -after repeated instructions, the roast-beef is still overdone, with -executive forefinger let us touch the bell, and in the _lowest_ but -firmest of tones remark, "Orderly! put the cook in the guard-house." - -But stay--women can never manage women that way. They are too cat-ty. -Let us have _men_-cooks, my dears, and science as well as civility -with our sauce. Yea--_men_-cooks, who will not "answer back;" -_men_-cooks who will not need to be an hour at the glass "prinking" -before they can look a tomato in the face; men-cooks, who, having once -done a thing "your way," can ever after reproduce it, and not, with -feminine caprice, or heedlessness, each time lessen the sugar and -double the salt, and vice-versa; _men_-cooks, whose "beaux" are not -always occupying the extra kitchen chair; _men_-cooks, who understand -the economy of space, and do not need a whole closet for every -tumbler, or a bureau-drawer for each towel. - -Oh! I have not been "to camp" for nothing. There are no carpets -_there_ to spot with grease. There are no pictures whose golden frames -are wiped with a wet dish-cloth. There are no velvet chairs, or -ottomans, upon which they can lay red-hot pokers or entry-mats. There -is no pet china they can electrify the parlor with smashing, to the -tune of hundreds of dollars. But instead, there are little tents -dotted about, furnished with brave men; and for pictures, long lines -of army wagons trailing their slow length along; and yonder, against -the burnished sunset sky, gallop the cavalry, with glittering arms; -and there are "squads" of secesh coming into the lines, with most -astounding hats and trowsers and no shoes, who hold up the _wrong -hand_ when they take the oath of allegiance, and make their "mark" in -the registry book instead of writing their names, and some of whose -"profession," when questioned, is--"to shoemake;" and there are -grotesque-looking contrabands; and rat-ty looking, useful mules; and -in the evening there are fire-fly lamps gleaming from the little -tents; and of a cool evening lovely, blazing camp-fires, round which -you can sit and talk with intelligent men till the small hours, about -other things than "bonnets;" and there's reveille, and--good heavens! -_why_ did I come back to New York, with its "peace-men" and its tame -monkeys. - - * * * * * - -While waiting at City Point for the "flag-of-truce boat," we sauntered -up from the wharf. There was an encampment not far from the river, and -the first thing that attracted my notice was a sutler's -establishment--in other words, a little shed with a counter, two men -behind it, and a little bit of everything displayed inside. "Now," -said I, "I will just bother that man asking him for something which I -am sure he has not for sale." "Do it," answered my companion; "I will -wager something he will have it." With triumph in my step, I -inquired--"Have you ladies' fans?" "Yes ma'am," was the reply; "here -is one, made in prison by a Union soldier." In my eagerness to secure -it, for it was a marvel of ingenuity, apart from the interest attached -to it, I forgot to collapse at my defeat--doubly defeated, too, alas! -"as it was not for sale." But there were books, and tobacco, and -combs, and suspenders, and pocket looking-glasses, and everything, -except "crying babies." A little farther on was a soda-fountain, then -a watch-maker, then an ice-cream shanty. Still I was not surprised; -for I lost my capability for a new sensation while staying in General -Butler's encampment. Strolling off, one lovely morning, in the woods, -for wild-flowers, I was overtaken by a shower of rain. Spying a little -shed at a distance under the trees, I made for it with all speed; and -found it full of bottles and a young man. The latter politely rose and -offered me the only stool in the establishment, and when I and my -hoop-skirt had entered, I regret to say that there was no room left, -save for the bottles above alluded to; and _their_ safety consisted in -my remaining quite stationary. "What is this place?" asked I, staring -about me. With a pitying smile the youth drew from a corner some fine -photographic views of "Dutch Gap," the site of General Butler's canal; -and then proposed my sitting for my picture. Had he produced a French -dress-maker from the trunk of one of the trees, I should not have been -more astonished. When the fickle Virginia sun again shone out, and I -had said the pretties, in the way of thanks, I resumed my walk; and -though on my way home I stopped to witness the fascinating operation -of felling trees, and to admire the vigorous strokes of the woodman's -axe, and listen to its far-off echoes through the woods, I still kept -on saying to myself--Well, I _never_! a photographic establishment in -these woods! - -While wandering round at the landing at City Point, waiting to take -passage for Annapolis, I saw at a distance some tents, exquisitely -trimmed with green boughs. "How very pretty!" I exclaimed; "I must go -up there and have a peep." "But it won't do to go nearer," suggested -my companion. "I must," said I; "I never saw anything half so pretty. -I must see them nearer." Gradually approaching, I saw that the floor -of the tent was ingeniously carpeted with small pine boughs. In the -middle of it was a round table covered with green in the same manner; -while in either corner stood a small rustic sofa, cushioned with -green leaves. No upholsterer could have improved the effect "How -_very_ pretty!" I again exclaimed, growing bolder as I saw it -temporarily unoccupied. As I said this, two officers made their -appearance from a tent near, and said--"Walk in, madam, and look at -it; it is not often that we see ladies at our encampment." So we -accepted the invitation, and then and there I penitently and publicly -dropped a theory I had hugged for years--viz., that a man, left to -himself, and deprived of the society of woman, would gradually -deteriorate to that degree, that he would not even comb his hair, or -wash his face, much less desire ornamentation in his home -surroundings. And now here was a bower, fit for the prettiest maiden -in all the land, made without any hope that a woman's eye might ever -approve it; made, too, though its owner might be ordered to pack up -his one shirt and march to battle the very next day; made for the -sheer love of seeing something home-like, and beautiful. I bade its -gallant proprietors good-bye, and went my ways, a humbler and a wiser -woman. - -While absent on this excursion I had several times the pleasure of -observing the fine soldierly appearance of our colored troops. When I -saw them form into line to salute the General as he passed, it gave me -a thrill of delight; because I knew that it was not a mere show -performance, on their part, toward one who has been so warmly, and -bravely, their friend and protector. - - * * * * * - -The farther a New Englander goes South, the gladder he is to return. -Blessed is it to pass the line, where doors will shut; where windows -will open; where blinds will fasten; where chairs will maintain their -usual uprightness; where wash-bowls are cleansed; where one towel for -half a dozen persons is not considered an extravagance, and where the -glass-panes in the windows are not so elaborately mended with putty -that a street view is impossible. In short, blessed is the Yankee -"faculty," as opposed to all this hanging-by-the-eyelids -thriftlessness. In Virginia the grass is too lazy to grow. Now and -then a half-dozen spears poke above-ground, and having done that, seem -to consider their mission accomplished; then comes a bare spot of -sand, until you come to the next five enterprising spears. However, -the North before long will teach Virginia grass what is expected of -grass. The James River appeared very lovely with its soft shadows that -beautiful afternoon I stood upon its banks; and incongruous enough -seemed the murderous-looking black Monitor resting upon its placid -bosom; and the screeching shells flying overhead, with the soft hues -of the rainbow against the blue sky. I said to myself--"Now, Fanny, -you too would have loved this beautiful country, had you been born -here instead of at the North; but, having ever been to the North and -seen what Southern eyes must see there, whether they admit it or not, -could you again have been contented and happy with your Southern -birthright and its accompanying curse? That is the question. _I think -not._" Everywhere now, in that region one is struck with the absence -of all the peaceful signs of domestic life. True, there are beautiful -trees and vines, and the same sweet wild-flowers in the odorous woods -skirting the roadside, that are to be found in New England. There are -houses, but the fences have been torn away; and from the skeleton -window-pane no fair faces look out. No chickens run about in the -yards; no little children swing upon gates; no young maidens stand in -the deserted gardens; but, instead, there are soldiers and sentinels; -and the negro huts belonging to these houses are empty, and on the -walls of the family mansions are rude charcoal drawings of ships, and -well-remembered faces, and _Northern_ homesteads; and there are verses -of poetry, and names, and dates, and arithmetical calculations; and -upon floor and stairway and threshold the omnipresent evidences of -that male-comforter and solace--Tobacco! As you ride miles along, -under the soft blue sky and through rows of majestic old trees, -missing the sight of human faces, suddenly, upon one of the tree -trunks, you are startled with this inscription, "Embalming the dead -here," or "Coffins here," or you see in the distance the creeping -ambulance, or in a sudden turn of the road an "abatis," or some -fortification. One realizes in such scenes the meaning of the word -"war." Strange enough it seems, to come back from all that, to city -theatres and their mock woes. - -As to Annapolis--one feels, upon walking through it, as if -Herculaneum and Pompeii after all might be no fable. Going from its -one-horse hotel, to the model hotel of Philadelphia, was almost too -sudden a change even for my excellent constitution. The brass -door-knocker of antiquity, placed high up out of reach of human hands -save those of well qualified adults, exists in Annapolis in full -splendor. The windows, too, are all on the second and third stories; -and one must get up early in the morning if he would ascend their -front steps. I invaded their legislative halls, and got as far as two -huge piles of earthen spittoons, reaching high above my head, awaiting -the advent of their august legislative proprietors, at which point I -expressed myself perfectly satisfied with my exploration, nor waited -to be shown the room in which "General Washington publicly resigned -his commission." With my hand on my heart to the General, I must still -be permitted to say, that being born fatally wanting in the bump of -reverence, I could never lose my breath in any such place if I tried, -and that I am quite willing, after having been assured that certain -skeletons of the past are to be evoked in certain places, to let more -pious hands feel of their bones. - -The _present_ only, now seems to me real. In the streets of Annapolis -I could only feel that here General Butler landed the 8th -Massachusetts, and showed the New York Seventh the way to Washington. - - - - -_UNWRITTEN HISTORY OF THE WAR._ - - -What a four years we had of it! And now that our cheeks no longer grow -hot at the name of Bull Run, and peace and victory--terms which no -loyal heart ever wished to dissever--are ours; now that we have laid -down our muskets and stop to take breath, how strange it all seems! -Now that we can snap our fingers at those precious "neutral" friends; -now that we can smile complacently upon croakers this side of the -water, and enjoy the wry faces which suddenly converted patriots make, -swallowing their allegiance; now that we sleep peaceably nights, -without tossing up window-sashes and thrusting out night-capped heads, -regardless of the modest stars and a shivering bed-fellow, to hail -some lightning "Extra;" now that our pockets are no longer picked for -standing gaping on the streets spelling out bulletins; now that -six-foot cowards have done squabbling about the "draft" that is to -tear them from families for which they never half provided, and for -which they have suddenly conceived such an intense affection; now that -our noble soldiers look back upon their sufferings and privations as -some troubled dream, so happy are they in the love of proud wives and -glad children and friends; now that Libby--thank God!--holds only its -jailer, and kindred spirits, and on the prison ground of Andersonville -loyal philanthropy already talks of erecting an institution for the -benefit of our brave soldiers; now that Broadway has time to cool, -between regiments coming and regiments going; now that the rotten -thrones of the old country will have as much as they can do to prop up -their shaky foundations, without making mouths at the new cap-stone of -our glorious republic, phew! _now_ we can untie our bonnets and toss -them up in the air, without caring for their descent. For have not -dry-goods and groceries gone down? and can't we buy needles, threads -and pins without beads of perspiration standing on our faces at the -thought? are not pennies plenty? and won't we soon have the dear -little clean silver pieces back again, instead of greasy stamps? and -isn't there a prospect that when hanging is good for a man he will now -be sure to get it? and if I _am_ a woman, can't I fold my arms and -strut about a little, even though I didn't help fight? Come to think -of it, though, I _did_; I can show you a spoiled dress I got, touching -off a thirty-two pounder Parrot gun commissioned to throw shells into -Petersburg; and I never got a shoulder-strap for it either, like many -another fellow, and never grumbled about it, _un_-like many another, -but was satisfied with that spot on my dress, and none on my soldierly -honor, and when it was told me that "that lady had better leave the -field and go somewhere else," I went there. - -We've done so much grieving lately, that it is a relief to be silly; -so you'll excuse me; but deep down in my heart, I thank God that the -dear lost lives, from our President down, have not been in vain; that -the blood the monster slavery would have lapped up triumphantly has -only gone to strengthen the roots of the tree of Liberty. - -Ah! think if tyranny all over the world had flaunted more defiantly -for our _uncrowned_ struggle! If every despotic chain, the earth over, -were fresh riveted! Ah! then indeed we _might_ mourn. - -But now!--with tender compassion for the bereaved,--for in many a home -that bright flag will _always_ wear its mourning-border--to-day! -Joy--joy to it! I never see its dear folds waving in and out against -the clear blue sky, that my eyes do not fill; I want to fold it round -my shoulders, I want to wear it for a dress. I want to sleep under it -for a bed quilt--and I want to be wrapped in it when I die. - - * * * * * - -Bye and bye what a glorious history of our war may be written. Not -that the world will not teem with histories of it. But I speak not of -great generals and commanders, who, under the inspiration of -leadership, and with the magnetic eyes of the world upon them, shall -have achieved their several triumphs; but of those who have laid aside -the plough, and stepped from behind the anvil, and the printing press, -and the counter, and from out the shop, and with leaping pulses, and -without hope of reward, laid an honest heart and a strong right arm on -the altar of their country; some to languish in prison, with undressed -wounds, defying taunts and insults, hunger and thirst, their places of -sepulture even unknown, and their names remembered only at some -desolate hearthstone, by a weeping widow and orphans, and yet whose -last pulse-beat was "for their country." By many a cottage fireside -shall old men tell tales to wondering childhood, that shall bring -forth their own precious harvest; sometimes of those who, enclosed in -meshes too cunningly woven to sunder, wore hated badges over loyal -hearts, and with gnashing teeth and listening ear and straining -eyeballs, bided their time to strike! Men who planted, that the tyrant -might reap; whose wives and children went hungry and shelterless, that -he might be housed and fed. Nor shall woman be forgotten, who, with -quivering heart but smiling lip bade God-speed to him, than whom only -her country was dearer, and turned bravely back to her lonely home, to -fight the battle of life, with no other weapon than faith in Him who -feedeth the ravens. All these are the true heroes of this war; not -alone they who have memorials presented, and if they die, pompous -monuments erected, but the thousands of brave fellows who know, if -they fall, they will have mention only among the "list of the killed -and wounded." Who, untrammelled by precedents, shall write us _such_ a -history? - - * * * * * - -Let me tell you a story I heard the other day. - -He was home at last! It was for three years he he had enlisted. When -his term was nearly out, and just as his heart leaped at thought of -going home, he was taken prisoner. We all know what that word means in -connection with "Andersonville" and "Libby." No shelter from rain, or -sun, or night dew; stung by vermin; devoured by thirst and hunger. So -day after day dragged by, and fewer and fewer came thoughts of home; -for the light was fading out from the sufferer's eyes, and one only -thought, day and night, pursued him--food, food! At last came the -order for exchange, and John was taken with the rest, as he could bear -the removal--slowly--_home_! Oh, how joyful they all were as they -waited for his coming! How tenderly he should be cared for and nursed. -How soon his attenuated form should be clothed with flesh, and the old -sparkle of fire come back to his faded eyes. How they would love him -ten thousand times better than ever for all the dreadful suffering he -had undergone for his country's sake. And when he got better, how they -would have the neighbors come and listen to his stories about the war. -Oh, yes--they would soon make John well again. Nine--ten--eleven -o'clock--it was almost time for him to be there. Susy and Jenny were -quite wild with joy; and mother kept saying "Girls, now be quiet;" but -all the time she kept smoothing the cushions of the easy-chair by the -fire, and fidgetting about more than any of them. Then there was -_such_ a shout went up from Susy, who was looking down the road from -the end window. _He's_ coming! father's coming! and fast as her feet -could carry her through the door and down the road she flew; and Jenny -followed, and mother?--well, _she_ stood there, with beating heart and -brimming eyes of joy, on the threshold. But what makes the girls so -quiet as they reach the wagon where "father" is sitting? Why don't -father kiss and hug them, and he three long years away? He is _alive_, -thank God, else he couldn't be sitting there--why don't he kiss his -girls? He _don't_ kiss them: he don't speak to them; he don't even -know Susy and Jenny, as they stand there with white lips and young -faces frozen with terror. It _is_ father--but, look! he is only a -crazy skeleton. And when they came to him, he only stretched out his -long, bony fingers, and muttered, feebly--"Bread! bread! Oh, give me -some bread!" And when they brought him in, crowded round and kissed -him, and carried him to the warm fire, and, with streaming eyes of -pity, showed him the plentiful table, he only looked vacantly in their -faces and muttered, "Bread! bread! Oh, give me some bread!" And to -everybody who came into the door till the hour he died, which was very -soon, he said still, "Bread! bread!" and this was the last word they -ever heard from "father." - - * * * * * - -And yet they say we must forgive the leader of the rebellion who did -such things as these! Spirit of Seventy-six! Can I believe my ears? -What sort of mercy is this, that sets the viper of to-day free to -raise up a brood of hissing vipers for the future? What is this mercy -for one, and this injustice for the million? This mercy which hangs -little devils, and erects no gibbet for the arch-fiend himself? This -mercy which lets Jeff. Davis glide safely out of the country with his -money-bags, and claps the huge paw of the law upon some woman, for -giving so much aid and comfort to the enemy as she could carry in her -little apron-pocket? What! Forgive Jeff. Davis, with the fresh memory -of Forts Pillow and Wagner? What! because your son, or your husband, -are now smiling at you across your table, are you to ignore that poor -mother, who night after night paced up and down her chamber floor, -powerless to release her husband or boy, who, at Libby or -Andersonville, was surely, horribly dying with the slow pangs of -starvation! The poor mother, did I say? The thousands of mothers, -whose wrung hearts cry out that the land be not poisoned with the -breath of their children's assassinator. To whom the sight of the gay -flags of victory, and the sound of the sweet chiming bells of peace -are torture, while this great wrong goes unredressed. Who can see only -by day and night that dreadful dead-cart, with its unshrouded -skeleton-freight, and uppermost the dear face, rumbling from that -loathsome prison, to be shovelled, like carrion, underground. - -Tell me? Is it in nature or grace, either, for these parents to vote -that Jeff. Davis and his like be neither expatriated nor deprived of -the rights of citizenship? In the name of that "mercy" which would be -so burlesqued, let them not suffer this crowning injury. Let them not -be pained with this mock magnanimity which so "forgivingly" crosses -palms with this wrencher of other people's heartstrings. Let it not be -said thoughtlessly, "Oh, we are too happy to think of vengeance." Say -rather, "Let us not, in our joy, forget to be just." - -And let me, individually, have due notice, if it be in contemplation -to present these traitors, either with a costly service of silver -plate or an honorable seat in the United States Senate. - - * * * * * - -Overhead floats the dear old flag, thank God! but countless are the -homes where the music of "the holidays" has forever died out; where -sorrow will clasp its hands over an aching heart, or sit down by a -solitary hearth, with a pictured face it can scarce see for the tears -that are falling on it. There seems nothing left now. The country is -safe, the war has ended; that rifled heart is glad of that; but oh! -what shall make its terrible desolation on these festival days even -endurable? _That's_ the thought that can't be choked down even by -patriotism. It comes up all over the house, at every step. It meets -you in parlor, and chamber, and entry. It points where the coat and -hat used to hang; it whispers from the leaves of some chance book you -listlessly open, where are _his_ pencil-marks. Even the dish on the -table you loved to prepare for him is turned to poison. The sun seems -merciless in its brightness; the music and dancing in unrifled homes -is almost heartless. What can you _do_ with this spectre grief, that -has taken a chair by your fireside, and, change position as you may, -insists on keeping you torturing company? You may walk, but it is -there when you return. You may read, but you feel its stony eyes on -you the while; you may talk, but you keep listening for the answer you -will never hear. Oh, what shall you do with it? Face it! Move your -chair up as closely to it as you can. Say--I see you; I know you are -here, and I know too that you will never, _never_ leave me. I am so -weary trying to elude you. Let us sit down then together, and -recognize each other as inseparable. Between me and happiness _is_ -that gulf--I know it. I will no longer try to bridge it over with -cobwebs. It is there. As you say this, a little voice pipes -out--mother, when is Christmas? Ah!--you thought you could do it; but -_that_ question from that little mouth, of all others! Oh, how can -_you_ be thankful? - -Poor heart, look in that little sunny face, and be thankful for that. -Hasn't it a right to its share of life's sunshine, and are you not -God-appointed to make it? There's work for you to do--up-hill, weary -work, for quivering lips to frame a smile--I grant, but there's no -dodging it. That child will have to take up its own burthen by and -by, as you are now bearing yours; but for the present don't drop your -pall over its golden sunshine. Speak cheerily to it; smile lovingly on -it; help it to catch the floating motes that seem to it so bright and -shining. Let it have its youth with all its bright dreams, one after -the other, as you did. They may not all fade away; and if they should, -there's the blessed memory of which even you would not be rid, with -all the pain that comes with it. Now would you? - -So, little one--Christmas is coming! and coming for you. There's to be -turkey and pie, and you shall stuff your apron full. There's to be -blind-man's buff, and hunt the slipper, and puss in the corner, and -there shall be flowers strewn for _your_ feet, you little dear, though -we all wince at the thorns. - -But for our soldiers' homes where death has literally taken all; where -the barrel of meal and cruse of oil too has failed; let a glad country -on festival days, of all others, bear its widows and orphans in -grateful remembrance. - - * * * * * - -Speaking of "Unwritten History," reminds me of some curious written -chapters of it that I saw the other day. - -I begin now to think that an "All-Wise Providence" spent more time -finishing off human beings than was at all necessary. I arrived at -this sapient conclusion, the other evening, while looking at some -hundreds of specimens of the handwriting of our disabled soldiers. -Before this I had always supposed that hands and arms were necessary -preliminaries to chirography, and _right_ hands and above all arms. -And there I was, brought up all standing, with the legible, fair -proofs to the contrary before my very face. Positively there was one -specimen written with the soldier's _mouth_, both hands being useless. -It was enough to make an able-bodied man or woman blush to think of -cowering for one moment before the darkest cloud of fate. As a moral -lesson I would have had every boy and girl in the land, taken there to -see the power of the mind over the body. The potency of that one -little phrase, "I will try." The impotency of that cowardly plea, "I -can't." I wished, as I examined these interesting and characteristic -papers, with the signatures and photographs of the writers annexed, -that all our schools in order, should be taken there, to learn a -lesson that all their books might never teach so impressively. I -wished that every man in the nation, whose patriotism needed -quickening, (alas that there should be any!) might see that these men -who have fought for the peace we are now enjoying, who have languished -long months in wretched prisons for us, and through all have but just -escaped, maimed and disabled, to reach their homes, are yet -self-helpful and courageous, fearing nothing, hoping all things, since -they have helped save the nation. _Is_ it safe? That is a question I -shall not meddle with here. Meantime I, for one, feel proud as an -American loyal woman that this collection of manuscripts has been -made. I believe it to be purely an _American_ idea. I am not aware -that in any other country such a novelty exists. I think it as highly -creditable to the head and heart of the originator, as to the skill -and patience of our soldiers. I felt as though it should have, like a -great national picture, its appropriate framing and setting in the -most conspicuous spot in the Capitol. How often I think of these -"privates," as they are called, when grand "receptions" and "balls" -are in progress for some great "General" in our midst. All honor to -him; but meantime what of these brave maimed "privates?" - -_Therefore_ I was rejoiced when John Smith and Thomas Jones had -succeeded in "making their mark" on paper as well as in battle. I was -glad that they had placed it on record that an American soldier is -still wide awake and hopeful, though he may be so hacked and hewed to -pieces that not half his original proportions remain. I wanted to sing -"Hail Columbia," and "The Star Spangled Banner," and "John Brown," and -"Yankee Doodle," and more than all, I wanted those people who are -sticking pins through curious sprawling bugs, and paying fabulous sums -for shells, and taking their Bible oaths over some questionable -pictures "by the old masters," would just turn their attention to -something not only veritable and unique, but honorable and worthy as a -legacy to every American child that shall be born to the end of time, -or--the end of our Republic, which is one and the same thing. - - - - -_MY SUMMERS IN NEW ENGLAND._ - - -You should have lived there to understand the delight with which I -linger about an old farm-house, to see if the old familiar objects -were all there. The clump of tall, nodding hollyhocks, many-hued, and -gorgeous in the sunlight; the lovely, evanescent morning-glories, -always reminding me of the clear eyes and silken locks of childhood; -the big tree, the pride of the homestead, under which it nestles, elm, -locust, maple or willow, it matters not; the hen, with her busy brood; -the old dog, of any breed Providence wills, lying with his nose -between his paws, lazily winking at the sun; the row of shining -milk-pans turned up against the wooden fence; the creaking well-sweep; -the old tub under the eaves; the neatly arranged wood-pile; the -honest, homely sun-flowers at the back door, and the scarlet -bean-blossoms; oh, how I love them all! - -Let us go in; any excuse--a glass of water--will serve. They are not -ashamed to be caught working. - -Bless you, no! One person is as good as another in New England, and -better, too. Observe how stainless are the steps, threshold and entry; -see the little mats, laid wherever a heedless foot might possibly mar -their purity. How white are the curtains and table-covers, and the -napkins pinned upon the backs of the chairs; see how nicely that patch -has been placed over the stain upon the wall-paper; look at that book -shelf hung in the corner. Surely some hand not devoid of daintiness, -arranged those pretty touches of color, in the scarlet cord and -tassels that support it, and the pretty little blue vase upon its top -shelf. Then there are picture-frames made of pine cones, quite as -pretty as any Broadway dealer could show; and the chairs, with their -flowered-chintz coverings, and now you look to see some sweet maiden -trip in, with pure eyes, and soft, smooth hair, and her name shall be -Mary. Nor are you disappointed; and as you look at her, as the -softened light comes in through the vine-leaves at the window, you see -how it is that flowers of beauty are wreathed round the rugged trunk -of New England asceticism. You see how no home, without a foundation -of thrift, can be anything like a home to this New England girl. You -can see how, in her married far-off abode, when reverses come, she is -not the woman to fold her hands and sit down and cry about it. You see -how she can make bread one minute, and ten to one, write a poem the -next; how she can trim a bonnet or row a boat; how she can cut and -make her own and her children's dresses, and keep her kitchen in a -state of polish, to make the haunter of Intelligence Offices stare -with wonder. - -I adore it all! I know that wheresoever fortune, in its vagaries, -tosses a New Englander, male or female, that individual will always -come up like a cat, on its feet. Meantime, they can bear your gibes -at their time-honored dishes of "pork and beans," and "apple-dowdy," -and "fish-balls" and "brown-bread." You can no more see "anything in -them" with all your tasting, than you could imitate the moral courage -of their makers in finding out what a thing will cost before they -order it home; and you will always manifest the same astonishment that -you do now, that these same economical, careful New Englanders are -always ready with open hearts and purses, whenever a fire lays waste a -city, when stormy winds send shipwrecked families upon their coasts, -or when any great philanthropic object challenges their pity or -assistance. - -You can't understand it--how should you? You who think it "mean" and -"unlady-like" to inquire the price of a thing before you buy it, or to -decline buying it, not because you do not like it, but for the honest -and sensible reason that it is beyond your means. You can never solve -the problem how a just economy, and a generous liberality, can go hand -in hand, or how one legitimately follows the other and makes it -possible. - -Then perhaps you smile when you see what a prominent place has Watts' -Psalms and Hymns, and the Bible upon the table yonder. Oh, if you -could hear the Sunday night singing in that little "_keeping-room_!" - - "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, - Stand dressed in living green." - -_You_ remember that hymn? You who had its lullaby sung to you, -countless starry nights by your own mother; _you_, who repeated it to -her in broken accents when she was dying--"Watts' Psalms and Hymns" is -to you as sacred as her memory. And the Bible? _You_ don't think, more -than myself, that mankind have furnished us anything better, as yet, -in the way either of morality or literature. You know that it is not a -mere lesson-book to that soft-eyed girl with the brown hair. - -I pity a genuine New Englander, who migrates from a land in which -every inhabitant is born with a faculty of doing everything in the -best manner, and in the very "nick of time," and settles down among a -Penelope race, who weave their webs in the morning, only to find them -irretrievably unravelled every night. _Thriftless!_ You may think -there are worse qualities than this in a person's moral make-up. _I_ -believe it to be the foundation of sand upon which any permanently -useful superstructure is impossible. Thriftless! The gods remove _me_ -far from this aimless specimen of adult infancy, who crawls a mile on -all fours to pick up a straw; who, forgetting where he placed it the -moment after he gets it, makes a series of circuitous journeys in -search of it; who is constantly placing things on their tops that are -not self-supporting unless set upon their bottoms; and who, though -warned by repeated thumps and bumps, that there are better ways than -those he chooses to crawl in, still persists in scratching and -scarring himself, and driving you wild with wondering what mischief he -_can_ do next that he has not already done. _I_ say that a lunatic -asylum can be the only end of a New Englander who is forced into a -daily yoke-ship with your "thriftless" person. - -New England! bless it! _Isn't_ it thorough? Does their sewing ravel -out? Do their shoes rip at the first wearing? Don't their children's -"bought" clothes hang together, at least till you get them home? Isn't -a New England-buttonhole exhilarating to the moral eyesight? Don't -their blinds keep fastened? Don't their doors shut without bringing -them "to" with a bang like the explosion of a Parrot gun? Haven't the -women sense "into" them? Don't the men know what they know? Haven't -their children a backbone, moral and physical? and haven't they a -right to boast of the "hub?" And as to their kitchens, my very soul -yearns for those shining tin pans and pewter pots, and immaculate -dishcloths. I am homesick for an old-fashioned "dresser," with the -kitchen spoons laid in a row after every meal. I long for a peep into -the kitchen closet, where the tea isn't in the coffee-thing, and the -starch mixed with the pepper; where the rolling-pin hangs up, white -and suggestive of flaky pie-crust; where the clothes-pins are shrouded -in a clean bag till next Monday's wash; where the lids of the coffee -and tea-pot are left open, for those vessels to air, and no -yesterday's "grounds" are permitted to repose over night; where--but -what's the use? Gotham is Gotham--Erin always _will_ be Erin--and New -England, God be praised! will always be New England; for were there -not _that_ leaven to infuse thrift through the veins of the -country----Well, you perceive that I am a New-Englander. - - * * * * * - -While in Brattleboro I obtained permission to write in the quiet empty -school-house, during the summer vacation. I thought while seated there -of the probable fate and fortunes of their absent occupants. How many -Senators, how many Presidents, how many Artists, how many Sculptors, -how many Authors, how many men, and women, of note, might make their -starting-point from that very school-house. - -I should like to keep the statistics from this time had I leisure. You -must know that it is an article in my creed that a _New England -cradle_ is the safest and fittest to rock a baby in. In other words, -that a New England foundation is sounder and better than any other; -the superstructure may be laid elsewhere--I had almost said -anywhere--this being secured. - -With these views, from which I am quite willing you should dissent, -should it so please you, I look around on these vacant seats of our -future men and women, with intense interest. "The war is over," I hear -people say; _I_ say it has just begun. The smoke of battle having -cleared a little, he that hath eyes to see, shall note the dead who -are to be carried out of sight, the maimed who are to be tenderly -cared for, and the vultures who are to be driven, at all costs, from -feeding on that which is as dear to us as our heart's blood. This work -these children will have to do. Pinafores and blouses they will not -wear forever. Balls, kites and dolls are but for now. _Earnest_ men -and women they must be, being New England born. Earnest for the -_Right_, I plead, as I glance at the Teacher's Desk. I do not know -him, who wields a power for which I would not exchange a monarch's -throne--who must face in this world, and account for in the next, -these boys and girls, who look to him for guidance and help; but -whoever he may be, I trust that he holds his office, for sublimity and -honor, second to none. I trust he looks beyond _to-day_, when he gazes -into those clear, bright eyes, where his teachings are mirrored like -the branches and blossoms in the clear, still lake beneath. I trust he -sees in those boys something beyond a trousers-tearing, -bird's-nest-robbing crew, _out_ of whose craniums must be thumped fun, -and _into_ whose craniums must be bored grammar. I trust he sees in -those girls something besides machines for sewing on buttons, and -frying "flap-jacks," and making cheese. I trust he does not expect to -run all these children, like a pound of candles, into the same shaped -and sized mould. I trust he knows a properly developed head when he -sees it, and believes in individuality of character, whether male or -female. I am glad to hear that he does not see only dollars and cents -in the glorious vocation he has adopted. - -Schoolmaster! Why, Emperor, King, President, are nothing to it. There -is only one thing before it, and that is--"Mother." Let the world look -to it who are its schoolmasters. Let schoolmasters look to it that -they are God-appointed to their places. If a conscientious clergyman -need ask God's blessing on his Sunday message before delivering it to -his flock, so much the more need the schoolmaster take the shoes from -off his feet; because the place where he treads is holy ground. - -Meantime, I sat there in the empty school-house, and watched the birds -flit in and out through the open window, while the breath of the -clover and the smell of the new-mown hay came pleasantly enough to my -city-disgusted nose. So now, dear children all, whoever you may be, I -leave you my hearty and sincere benediction for the pleasant hour in -your school-house, when _you_ had "a vacation" and I had none. - - * * * * * - -Now let me tell you a little story about a Green Mountain Sculptor. -The town of Brattleboro', wrapped in its mantle of snow, looked very -lovely one crisp, cold winter night. There were no operas, no -theatres, no racketing or frolicking of any sort going on. The snow -and the stars had it all their own way. I said it was "quiet," and -yet, from the windows of one pretty little white house, lights were -gleaming; and now a young man, warmly muffled to the ears, crosses the -threshold, and is joined by two or three young companions, who -commence gathering the snow in heaps in front of the house, while he -shapes it with his benumbed fingers into the form of a pedestal; -occasionally stepping back and looking at it, or slapping his hands -together to produce circulation. Now upon the pedestal he commences -modeling a figure; while his companions continue patiently to supply -him with fresh heaps of the pure white snow, one holding a lantern -while he proceeds with his work. Noiselessly and industriously they -toil, no policeman disturbing them with curious inquiries or a -threatened "station house." Occasionally they glide into the house, -where warm flannels, and warm beverages, and a good fire, and -"mother's" encouraging smile, await them, to inspire the party with -new energy. It is near daylight, and still our snow-sculptor toils on, -hour after hour, till, fair and lovely, stands before him, on this -night of the New Year, the form of a Recording Angel, writing upon a -scroll. Now, the party, taking one long look, quietly retire, leaving -the figure conspicuously standing at the meeting of two roads. The -stars gradually fade out, and Brattleboro' begins to be astir. First -comes the earliest riser of all, poor "crazy Jim," who never seems to -weary of wandering to and fro on the earth, and up and down on it. Dim -in his confused brain lie tangled memories of childhood's "angels." He -stands and gazes, awe-struck and wondering, while his busy, chattering -tongue is for the time quite still. Now a farmer from the mountains -glides over the snow with his fleet horse and sleigh, with tinkling -bells, and reins up, and shares crazy Jim's amazement. As the morning -wears on, the news flies that there is "an angel" among them. -Schoolgirls and boys forget that it is "past nine," and stand -spell-bound by the side of their parents, whose wonder at the -marvellous beauty of the figure is only equalled by their curiosity as -to the fingers that so cunningly shaped it. Had Brattleboro', with its -other natural marvels, furnished also a genius? Was Vermont, rich in -so many other treasures, to "keep" a sculptor? Artists were not wont -to swarm in Brattleboro' in mid-winter, how long soever might be the -list of "arrivals" during the balmy days of summer. There was no name -of distinction now on the hotel books. Who _could_ it be? And what a -pity such a beautiful thing should perish, and fade away with the -first warm rays of the sun. Among the crowd who gathered to wonder and -admire came an editor. This editor was intelligent, and what is more, -sympathetic and appreciative. He wrote a glowing account of the -"snow-angel." The paper containing it met the eye of rich old Nicholas -Longworth, of Cincinnati. He immediately sent an order to the young -sculptor, who was then modestly enjoying his first triumph from the -windows of his father's little white house, to perpetuate it for him -in marble, not forgetting to send with the order a generous check in -advance. _This_ was substantial praise. _This_ looked like beginning -the world right. For once, Fortune, too often churlish to genius, -seemed about to take it at once into her ample lap. - -But our sculptor did not presume on this. He finished his beautiful -statue to the satisfaction of his patron, and with the proceeds went -to Italy, where he could more easily command the requisites of the -profession for which Nature had ordained him. One lovely creation -after another has succeeded the snow-angel, and are now cherished -household treasures in his native land and State. I am not a -Vermonter, unless strong love for its grand mountains and intelligent -people can make me one; still, though suffering under the disgrace of -not having been born in that glorious old State, I feel just as proud -of that young Green Mountain sculptor and his beautiful works, as if -its lovely valleys had cradled me. - -So, lest other States begin to wrangle by and by as to the honor of -producing him, I wish to place it on record that Larkin G. Mead was -born and reared in _Vermont_, and nowhere else. - - * * * * * - -While in Vermont, it seemed to me that every State in the Union should -consider it a _religious duty_ to gather, in some shape, form or -place, every relic of the war with which the people of that State were -in any way connected. The golden moment of action in this regard will -pass, _is_ passing, with each fleeting day. Life presses heavily on -most of us. The shuttlecock of the present is so busy and swift, that -its whirr may well distract us from aught else. But think! to our -children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren what these relics -would be. This coat, torn, blood-stained, bullet-riddled in so many -battles. This shoe, patched with improvised needle and thread in the -horrible prison pens of Andersonville and Libby. This--but time would -fall me to tell of the relics and memorials which every farm-house in -the country might yield, and which might so easily _now_ become a -nation's property and pride. I was particularly awake to this subject -because I lately saw, up here in Brattleboro', a private by the name -of Colt, with his right arm _now_ quite useless, who has in his -possession a fiddle manufactured by himself, while in camp, from a -maple stump, with no other tools than a jackknife, and a piece of -broken bottle, a gimlet and an old file, which he made into a chisel. - -It was in Virginia, on the Potomac, below Washington, that his -regiment was located. "Boys," said one of them, as they lounged in -their tents at nightfall, when it will not do to think too long or too -much of the dear faces they might never more see--"boys, if we had a -fiddle here we might have some music." "I could play on it," says one, -(what _can't_ a Yankee do?) "So can I," said another. "Well," said our -hero, "the only way for us to have a fiddle is to _make_ one." No -sooner said than begun, at least. A maple stump was found, and comrade -after comrade, when off duty, watched its transformation to a fiddle -with the intensest interest. Some laughed, some cheered; praise, blame -or indifference were all alike to our indomitable private, who was -bound to get music out of that maple stump. - -Still the fiddle grew. Still the chips flew. A good piece of wood was -desirable for what I shall designate as the _lid_;--the bottom and -sides being finished. Our private looked about. There was an old box -in camp, sent from prolific Vermont, with "goodies" for her valiant -boys. He seized upon the best part of it, and shaped it to its -purpose, polishing it smooth with the broken bit of glass. The pegs he -made from the horns of secesh cattle slaughtered by the rebels, when -they didn't dream our boys would rout them to take possession. The -strings for the fiddle-bow he made of hairs from the tail of the -General's horse. Just at this juncture in fiddle-progress, came a -pause. Where are the fiddle _strings_ to come from? Away there in -camp; even a Yankee might well stop, and scratch his head. Up comes an -officer, and gazes with dumb wonder on that improvised fiddle. When he -found his tongue, he offered our private to send to Washington by the -sutler for the desired strings. These were obtained, and straightway -fastened in their places. And now behold a pretty, delicate little -affair, in color resembling the satin wood-fans sent us from Fayal. -But did it have music in it? Most assuredly. There is the beauty of -it. The tone of our Yankee fiddle is irreproachable. - -Now I ask, is that fiddle to become the property and pride of Vermont, -and be handed down, as it should, to its future sons and daughters, -with the name of its enterprising maker? As I sat in that low-roofed -wooden house, listening to his simple story, and looking first at the -fiddle, and then at his twisted and useless arm, and then at a little -fat roly-poly of a dimpled baby on the carpet, I thought--well, I -said, Fanny, thank God that you were born a Yankee; and now go home -and tell the world the history of that fiddle. And I have done it. -Now, millions of relics, most interesting, like this, lie scattered -all over the land. _Let each State garner its own._ It is due to the -brave fellows who, modest as brave, will never do it themselves. It is -due to these "_Privates_" to whom no splendid residences in our cities -are presented, ready furnished and victualled. Let _them_ have the -reward of remembrance and appreciation, _at least from a grateful -posterity_. - - * * * * * - -After leafy, lovely Vermont, to come back to the dusty city! To lose -October! the golden month of all the year in the country, that one may -come to town, to see that a dusty house is put in shining order: -that's what I call a trial. Of course, I anticipate your provoking -rejoinder--"What if you had no house to put to rights?" And now, if -you have done interrupting me, I will proceed to say, that to decide -between poultry, beef, mutton or veal for dinner; to make the -disgusting tour of closets and cupboards that have enjoyed a long -summer vacation in company with mice; instead of strolling "down to -the river" and watching the little boats glide on its polished -surface, or gaze at the mist lazily rolling off the mountain; while -sweet odors of flowers, and the fresh smell of grass, make breathing -itself a luxury, for which you can find no words of thanks--this -change, I say boldly, is not to _my_ taste. Not to mention, of a hot -morning, when you innocently thought hot mornings were quite gone till -next season, sitting in Intelligence Offices trying to decipher the -countenances of various applicants for the care of your kitchen-range, -or dining-room, or bed-chamber, when your tantalizing thoughts were -far away on delicious roads, shaded so thickly with trees that in the -hottest noon scarce a sun-ray penetrated, while the cool water dripped -from mossy rocks, or rushed foaming over them, with a glad free joy -that set you wild with longing. To fight rabid _city_ mosquitoes all -night, after a blessed freedom from the wretches all summer; to listen -to the shrieks of infuriated cats, in the intervals, instead of the -whisper of the soft leaves almost within your bed-room window; to hear -the ceaseless click, click, of the tireless street cars, instead of -the solitary musical "peep, peep" of some little bird; to be woke in -the morning, when exhausted nature craves so madly that one little -restoring-nap before breakfast, by the whooping of infuriated -milk-men, and the thumping and ringing of bakers; in short, after -kicking your heels like a colt in a pasture all summer, to be suddenly -noosed, caught and harnessed to a relentless dray-cart which keeps on -going up hill, regardless of your disgusted puffing and panting and -attempts at halting; well--I trust now you understand what my emotions -are on returning to this Pandemonium of a city, after a breezy, -care-free, delicious summer sojourn in the mountains. - -What do I care for the "new style of bonnets," when I have found it so -much pleasanter to stroll out without any covering for the head? What -to me are "top-boots" with red and blue tassels and lacings, when any -old shoe served my turn if a lovely country tramp was in prospect? -What to me are new dresses? involving weary hunts for buttons, and -"bones," and hooks, and eyes, and cord, and tassels, and lace, and -bugles, and gimp, and facings, and linings, and last, but not least, a -"lasso" to catch a dress-maker? - -That's what I said to myself as I sat down on my dusty travelling -trunk, with my hair full of cinders, and both fingers stuffed in my -ears to keep out the questions that were pouring into them about what -was to be done with this and that and t'other thing; and if I wanted -the windows cleaned first or last; this paint or that paint scrubbed. -Good heavens! said I, what is woman that she should be thus tormented? - -That was the first onslaught, you see, and I am not naturally a -patient animal. But now that the wheels are greased and the household -machinery "whistles itself," it is a comfort to sit down again in my -own favorite little chair, which must really have been made for my -particular shoulders and back. It is a comfort to have a nail and a -closet and a shelf for everything, and see my worldly effects neatly -placed away from dust, each in its own niche, where I can find them on -the darkest night without the aid of a light. It is a comfort to have -many rooms, instead of two. It _is_ pleasant, after all, to feel that -you yourself have brought all this order out of chaos, although -man--ungrateful creature--gobbles up the results without any such -reflection. - -After all, I'm going to be proud of myself, since nobody else will -praise me; I'm proud of myself, I say, as I take a cake of glycerine -soap to remove the working traces from my hands and put my fingers in -writing order. And then, after all, this had to be done; and one's -life can't be all play, and I must be woman enough to take my share of -the disagreeables, instead of shirking them like a great coward; for -all that, I like a tree better than a broomstick; a fine sunset better -than a gridiron; also I prefer a flower-garden to a sewing-machine, if -the truth _must_ out. - - * * * * * - -But back again in town, how shall we adapt ourselves to its unnatural -ways? Every thing in the country, animate and inanimate, seems to -whisper, be serene, be kind, be happy. We grow tolerant there -unconsciously. We feel that in the city we are not only hard, but that -we by no means get the most out of life. We wonder if, after all, the -opera is better than the gushing melody which is ours for the -listening, whenever we will. We wonder if the silken sheen of the -Queen of Sheba fabrics, which our splendid store-windows display, -quite comes up to the autumnal splendor of the woods and mountains. -Our bones ache with the necessity of _spick-and-span-ness_ -trammelling every movement indoors and out. And if, as Goethe asserts, -"the unconscious are alone complete," what chance do city people stand -of ever being rounded out, mentally and morally, where everybody is on -the _qui vive_ lest his neighbor outshine him? Where the _must haves_ -multiply faster than rabbits, and grow so clamorous that we forget -there is a possibility of silencing their tyrant voices? It is so -long, too, since we have seen a drunkard, or a beggar, or a wretched -woman who dare not think of her sinless infancy, that these things -come to us with such an appalling newness, that we are shocked and -pained that we could ever have become accustomed to their presence, or -shall ever grow so again, by daily contact. - -We almost dread ourselves. Our life seems puerile, and ignoble, and -cruel. It seems dreadful to take all this wretchedness, and waste of -life, as a matter of course, and that with which we have nothing to -do. We can't get used to the worn faces, the hurried footsteps, the -jostling indifference, the dust, and grime, and shabbiness through -which we plunge at every turn. Visions of moss-dripping rocks, huge -and grand; sweet, grassy roads, full of birds, and darting squirrels; -plentiful orchards and barns; stout, round, rosy children, tumbling -therein. Cows, with their rich burdens, going slowly homeward. The -farmer, brown and happy, sitting with his happy wife, in the low -doorway, at eventide, with _peace_ written upon their faces. Oh, we -had much rather think of these, and close our eyes on all this -maelstrom-misery, and tinselled grandeur. We feel stifled. We throw up -the window, and wonder what can ail us? for unrest, unquiet, and -strife seem to be in the very atmosphere that we breathe. - -We want to get out of it, since the times are out of joint, and we -can't help _everything_, at least. We feel a cowardly desire to fly, -and simply enjoy ourselves; somewhere, anywhere, but in this Babel of -odds and ends; where everything is always beginning, and never is -finished; where mouths keep opening, faster than loaves of bread can -be baked; where churches are built so grand, that poor people can't -say a prayer in them; where rulers are elected by whiskey, instead of -wisdom; where, on the other side of the thin wall which frames your -home, the awful tragedies of life and death go on, without a thought -or care from you; where bitter tears fall, which you might, but -_don't_ assuage, because your neighbor, having enough of this world's -goods, is supposed to need nothing else. - -Oh, I dare say I shall ossify in time; but at present these thoughts -keep me quite miserable after the serene, heavenly peace, and plenty, -and content of the country. - - - - -_BOSTON AND NEW YORK.--THE DIFFERENCE._ - - -To live in Boston is to feel necessitated to wear your "Sunday -clothes" all through the week. To live in New York is to wear a loose -wrapper every day in the seven if you choose, without danger of being -sent to Coventry for so doing; not because Gotham admires your -wrapper, but because it has not time or inclination to overhaul so -minute a circumstance. In New York, you may wash your one pair of -stockings every night; or you may have seven changes of the same for -all New York will care about it. In Boston the pedigree of your -stockings, shawls, and bonnets is, by no contrivance of ingenuity, -hidden. In New York, good Christians can take a walk on Sunday, if it -_does not_ lead straight to the church door. In Boston, one perils his -salvation, and business standing, by taking a breath of air that has -not first blown round a pulpit. In Boston, a rich man or woman must, -in public places, keep within the talismanic circle marked out for -them, nor cross the line of demarkation at peril of non-recognition. -In New York a rich man or woman, by virtue of such position, feels at -liberty to take any loafer-ish jump over the customary fence that -inclination shall dictate. In Boston, the literary knee is not -literary, if it has not knelt before certain shrines. In New York, if -it is a _genuine_ knee, it may kneel or not kneel, so far as perilling -its safe foundation is concerned. In Boston, one who carries a parcel -is supposed not to be able to hire it sent. In New York one may carry -a double armful, without being suspected of living at the Five Points. -In Boston, people settle your claims to notice by inquiring if you -know Mr. This or visit Mrs. That. New York is more interested to know, -whether you are eligible by virtue of good manners, and general -jolliness, without reference to your tailor, hatter, or dressmaker. In -New York, if you choose only to board two servants instead of five, -and decline wasting your life in superintending their neglect of -upholstery, silver, and china, your intelligence, and irreproachable -grammar, are considered an equivalent. In Boston, under such -circumstances, the golden gate turns not on its hinges to let you into -the crystal city. - -In other words, well as I love old Boston--and I do love it--I must -own that it is a snob of the first water. It makes a vast difference -what my opinion is, of course; but for all that, when Boston stays all -its life in Boston, it becomes fossilized, mummy-ized, swathed round -and round, from neck to heel, so that growth and expansion are morally -impossible. - -Still, let Boston always be _born_ in Boston; but after it grows -vigorous, if it would stay vigorous, and not get the cramp of -self-conceit till it can't turn its "Boston neck," no matter how -loudly the wheel of progress is dashing past, let it migrate betimes -to New York; where it will get wholesomely thumped and bumped, and -its conservative corns pounced upon by the rushing crowd; who will -knock its respectable shiny hat over its eyes fifty times a day, all -the same as though it was not one of the "highly respectable -citizens," the state of whose kitchen-chimney is gravely reported to a -gaping universe, in their daily papers. - -I don't know what would become of New York had it not its Paradise in -the Central Park. I never go there without blessing its originator, -and wishing it might be baptized with a more suggestive and prettier -name. But never mind names. In its lovely October dress, with its -sparkling lake, and drooping willows, its white swans, its lovely -velvet greensward; the myriads of sweet children alighting here and -there, in their bits of gay dresses, like little humming birds or -orioles, with happy mothers and fathers who have left their cares and -frets in the city, and come there to be young again for too brief an -hour, with the little ones; all this is a picture to feast the eye and -gladden the heart. In one respect Central Park might borrow a hint -from Boston Common. There the little children are allowed to run upon -the grass at all times; not on certain days of the month or week as in -Central Park. Said a bright little child of six the other day, when -asked if it would like to go to Central Park: "No! (emphatically) -_no_! I don't want _to waste my time going_ where they won't let me -step on the grass." - -I sometimes wish that the policeman on duty there--so Argus-eyed to -arrest the tiny shoe, when temptation is too strong for childhood -which has always been cooped within city limits--would bestow some of -their notice upon the men-loafers who stretch themselves at full -length upon benches, occupying them to the exclusion of the children; -puffing vile tobacco, and making a spittoon of the path through which -ladies pass. It strikes me there might be an improvement on the -strain-at-a-gnat and swallow-a-camel system now in vogue there. - -To return to Boston, which I always like to do occasionally: that city -needs not our Central Park drives, with its lovely and easily -accessible environs. - -Here in New York one does not get to the environs until it is time to -come home; what with clogged streets and ferry-boats, and -Babel-hindrances too numerous to mention, such as scratched sides of -the pet carriage, and often-recurring "locked wheels," the fright of -prostrate horses, and the music of profanity, from the lips of hurried -and irate drivers of teams, and drays, in every direction. All this is -death to the repose one seeks in "a drive." Therefore we New Yorkers -love our quiet accessible Central Park. May its boundaries be -limitless as our tax bills! I couldn't say more. But my first -love--that dear old gem of a Boston Common! How happy were the -Saturday and Wednesday afternoons, when, under the blessed old school -system, before children were forced with grammar and geography, like -hot-house plants,--and we had short forenoon and _afternoon_ sessions, -with the exception of the above-mentioned holidays; how happy were the -afternoons I spent there, picking buttercups, and blowing off -thistledown, "to see if mothers wanted us at home;" which by the way, -was sure to be answered in the negative. And as to the Frog-Pond--what -was the Atlantic Ocean to that? On the Atlantic Ocean, they had -dreadful ship-wrecks; on the Boston Frog-Pond, we sent out our tiny -ventures, sure to find safe arrivals when we ran round the other side -of the Pond. And the big Tree--hooped all round like a modern -belle--with what big eyes of wonder we looked up into its branches, as -our elders told us wonderful stories of what it had seen in its long, -eventful life. And _now_ there are many big trees where _little_ ones -used to stand. Bless me! it shows how old I must be; just as it does -to go back there and meet in the street some radiant fresh young girl, -"the very image of her mother," with whom I used to play buttercups, -on Saturday afternoons. There are the same bright eyes, and lovely -hair, and smiling lips--bless me, how old I _really_ must be! and why -don't I walk with a stick? - -And then I laugh as I look up at Boston State-House and its -awe-inspiring dome of our childhood; and recall the "members of the -Legislature," crawling up and down stairs and galleries like great -black ants; and think of the terrific "_Inquisition_"-doings which we -used to be sure must be going on, inside those wonderful halls, and to -which Blue-Beard's locked apartment was nothing. Oh, it is all very -funny now, when I go there; and though I sit on a seat in the Common, -and try to conjure all the myriad hours, and days, and years, between -then and now, and try to feel like the second Methusaleh I am, I -declare to you I never can do it,--but, instead, catch myself trotting -off home under the trees, as briskly as a squirrel. I suppose, some -day, I shall be dead though, for all that. - - - - -_ABOUT SOME THINGS IN NEW YORK WHICH HAVE INTERESTED ME._ - - -The Battery was my first New York love. I shall never forget how -completely it took possession of me, or how magnetically it drew me -under the shade of its fine trees, to breathe the fresh sea-breeze, -and watch the graceful ships come and go, or lie calmly at anchor, -with every line so clearly defined against the bright sky. It was not -"the fashion," even then, to go there; so much the better. It is still -less the fashion now; but there I found myself, one bright Sunday not -long since, as I left the leafy loveliness of Trinity church, with its -sweet choral music still sounding in my ears. - -Alas! for my dear old Battery. The sea is still there, to be sure--no -"corporation" can meddle with that; and still the picturesque ships -come and go; but the blades of grass grow fewer and thinner, and the -dirty, dusty paths call aloud for a "vigilance committee." What a sin -and shame! I exclaimed, that this loveliest spot in New York should -present so forlorn an appearance. Is there not room enough in the -purses and affections of New Yorkers for the Central Park and the -Battery too? In good truth, when I reflect upon it, I am jealous of -this new aspirant for the public favor. What is a _horse_ to a ship? -sacrilege though it be to say so. What is the gaudy, over-dressed -equestrian "swell" of fine ladies and fine "Afghans" to the majestic -_swell of the sea_? What are the stylish equipages and liveries, to -the picturesque crowd of newly-arrived emigrants, with their funny -little, odd-looking babies, their square, sturdy forms and bronze -faces, chattering happy greetings in an unknown tongue, and gazing -about them bewildered, at the strange sights and sounds of a great new -city; or sauntering up to Trinity church, and in happy ignorance of -novel steeples and creeds, dropping on their catholic knees in its -aisles, in thankful, devout recognition of their safe arrival in a new -country. What is the pretty toy-lake, and the hearse-like "gondola," -and "the swans," and the posies, and the "bronze-eagle," and the -blue-coated policemen, who stand ready to handle rogues _with_ gloves, -and _white ones_ at that, to my dear old Battery, battered as it is. - -I call capricious, fickle New York to order, for thus forsaking the -old love for the new. I demand an instant settlement of any protracted -dispute there may be on hand, as to "whose business it is" to renovate -the Battery, before it quite runs to seed, like the City Hall Park. -Not that _I_ won't keep on going to the Battery, though they should -build a small-pox hospital on it; for it is not my way to forsake an -old friend because he is shabby; but I _should_ like to be a female -General Butler, for one month, and put this business through in his -chain-lightning executive fashion. - -It is a great plague to be a woman. I think I've said that before, but -it will bear repeating. Now the wharves are a great passion of mine; I -like to sit on a pile of boards there, with my boots dangling over the -water, and listen to the far-off "heave-ho" of the sailors in their -bright specks of red shirts, and see the vessels unload, with their -foreign fruits, and dream away a delicious hour, imagining the places -they came from; and I like to climb up the sides of ships, and poke -round generally, just where Mrs. Grundy would lay her irritating hand -on my arm and exclaim--"What _will_ people think of you?" - -I am getting sick of people. I am falling in love with things. They -hold their tongues and don't bother. - - * * * * * - -I like also to stroll forth in New York, just at dusk, and see the -crowds hurrying homeward. The merchant, glad to turn his back at last -on both profit and loss. The laboring man with his tools and his empty -dinner pail. The weary working-girl, upon whose pallid face the fresh -wind comes, like the soft caressing touch of her mother's fingers. The -matron, with her little boy by the hand, talking lovingly, as he skips -by her side. The young man, full of hope for the future, looking, with -his eagle eye, and fresh-tinted cheek, as if he could defy fate. The -young girl, rejoicing in her prettiness, for the power it gives her -to win love and friends. The little beggar children, counting their -pennies on some doorstep, to see how much supper they will buy. The -small boot-blacks, who stoop less, after all, than many men whose feet -they polish, singing as merrily as if they were sure of a fortune on -the morrow. The bright glancing lights in the shop windows, touching -up bits of scarlet, and yellow, and blue, and making common beads and -buttons gleam like treasures untold. The lumbering omnibuses, crawling -up and down, heavy with their human freight. The rapid whirl of gay -carriages, with their owners. The little bits of conversation one -catches in passing, showing the depth or shallowness of the speakers. -The tones of their voices, musical or otherwise. The step, awkward or -graceful, and the sway of the figure. The fading tints of the sky, and -the coming out of the stars, that find it hard to get noticed among so -many garish lights. The interior glimpses of homes, before caution -draws the curtains. Now--some picture on the wall. Now--a maiden -sitting at the piano. Now--a child, with its cunning little face -pressed close against the window. Now--a loving couple, too absorbed -in the old--old--but ever _new_ romance, to think that their clasped -hands may be noted by the passer by. Now--a woman for whom your heart -aches; walking slowly; glancing boldly; going anywhere, poor thing! -but--_home_. Now--oh! the contrast--a husband and wife, with locked -arms, talking cheerily of their little home matters. Now--a policeman -with folded arms, standing on the corner, past being astonished at -anything. Now a florist's tempting window, whence comes a delicious -odor of tube-roses, and heliotrope, and geranium. There is a huge, -fragrant pyramid for some gay feast. There is a snowy wreath and -cross, white as the still, dead, face, above which they are soon to be -laid. There is a snowy coronal for a bride. There is a gay, -bright-tinted bouquet for an actress. Lingering, you look, and muse, -and spell out life's alphabet, by help of these sweet flowers; and now -you are jostled away by a policeman, dragging a wretched, drunken -woman to the station-house. - -People talk of Niagara, and tell how impressive is its roar. What is -the roar of a dumb thing like that to the roar of a mighty city? -There, _souls_ go down, and alas! the shuttle of life flies so swiftly -that few stop to heed. - - * * * * * - -There are persons who can regard oppression and injustice without any -acceleration of the pulse. There are others who never witness it, how -frequent soever, without a desperate struggle against non-interference, -though prudence and policy may both whisper "it's none of your -business." I believe, as a general thing, that the shopkeepers of New -York who employ girls and women to tend in their stores, treat them -courteously; but now and then I have been witness to such brutal -language to them, in the presence of customers, for that which seemed -to me no offence, or at least a very trifling one, that I have longed -for a man's strong right arm, summarily to settle matters with the -oppressor. And when one has been the innocent cause of it, merely by -entering the store to make a purchase, the obligation to see the victim -safe through, seems almost imperative. The bad policy of such an -exhibition of unmanliness on the part of a shopkeeper would be, one -would think, sufficient to stifle the "damn you" to the blushing, -tearful girl, who is powerless to escape, or to clear herself from the -charge of misbehavior. When ladies "go shopping," in New York, they -generally expect to enjoy themselves; though Heaven knows, they must be -hard up for resources to fancy this mode of spending their time, when -it can be avoided. But, be that as it may, the most vapid can scarcely -fancy this sort of scene. - -The most disgusting part of such an exhibition is, when the -gentlemanly employer, having got through "damning" his embarrassed -victim, turns, with a sweet smile and dulcet voice, to yourself, and -inquires, "what else he can have the pleasure of showing you?" You are -tempted to reply, "Sir, I would like you to show me that you can -respect womanhood, although it may not be hedged about with fine -raiment, or be able to buy civil words with a full purse." But you -bite your tongue to keep it quiet, and you linger till this Nero has -strolled off, and then you say to the girl, "I am so sorry to have -been the innocent cause of this!" and you ask, "Does he often speak -this way to you?" and she says, quietly, as she rolls up the ribbons -or replaces the boxes on the shelves, "Never in any other!" It is -useless to ask her why she stays, because you know something about -women's wages and women's work in the crowded city; and you know that, -till she is sure of another place, it is folly for her to think of -leaving this. And you think many other things as you say Good-morning -to her as kindly as you know how; and you turn over this whole -"woman-question" as you run the risk of being knocked down and run -over in the crowded thoroughfare through which you pass; and the -jostle, and hurry, and rush about you, seem to make it more hopeless -as each eager face passes you, intent on its own plans, busy with its -own hopes and fears--staggering perhaps under a load either of the -soul or body, or both, as heavy as the poor shop-girl's, and you gasp -as if the air about had suddenly become too thick to breathe. And then -you reach your own door-step, and like a guilty creature, face your -dressmaker, having forgotten to "match that trimming;" and you wonder -if you were to sit down and write about this evil, if it would deter -even one employer from such brutality to the shop-girls in his employ; -not because of the brutality, perhaps, but because by such a -short-sighted policy, he might often drive away from his store, ladies -who would otherwise be profitable and steady customers. - - * * * * * - -There is an animal peculiar to New-York, who infests every nook and -corner of it, to everybody's disgust but his own. He is a boy in -years, but a man in vicious knowledge. Every woman who is unfortunate -enough to be in his presence is simply a _she_--nothing more. He may -be seen making a charmed circle of expectoration, about the seat he -occupies in a ferry-boat, ferry-house, or car, while she stands half -fainting with exhaustion, in hearing distance of his coarse, prurient -remarks to some other little beast like himself. Pea-nuts are the -staple food of this creature, the shells of which he snaps dexterously -at those about him, when other means of amusement give out. When a -public conveyance has reached its point of destination, this animal is -the first to make an insane rush for egress, treading down young -children, and tearing ladies' clothing in his triumphal march. -Sometimes he stops on the way to "bung out the eye" of an offending -youngster, in so tight a place for a combat that somebody's corpse -seems inevitable. Terrified ladies, who would fain give him elbow room -if they had it, faintly ejaculate "Oh!" as they squeeze themselves -into the smallest breathable space; nor does he desist, till his -adversary is punished for the crime of existing, without this brute's -permission; he then emerges into the open street, settling his greasy -jacket and indescribable hat, muttering oaths, and squaring off -occasionally, as he looks behind him, as though he wished somebody -else was "spiling for a licking." - -Often this animal may be found in the city parks; where the city -corporation generously furnishes about one seat to every hundred -children, and selecting the shadiest and most eligible, stretches -himself on it upon his stomach, while tired little children and their -female attendants, wander round in vain for a resting-place. Sometimes -sitting upon it, he will stretch out his leg so as to trip some -unwary, happy little child in passing; or perhaps he will suddenly -give a deafening shout in its ear, for the pleasure of hearing it cry; -or from a pocket well stuffed with pebbles will skillfully pelt its -clean clothes from a safe distance; and sometimes this animal, who -smokes at ten years like a man of forty, will address a passing lady -with such questions as these: - -"Oh, aint _you_ bully? Oh, give _her_ room enough to walk!--oh, yes!" -Or, "Who's _your_ beau, Sally?" which last cognomen seems with them to -constitute a safe guess. - -When not otherwise occupied, this young gentleman writes offensive -words on door-steps and fences with bits of chalk, which he keeps on -hand for this purpose. Or, if a servant has just nicely cleaned a -window, he chews gum into little balls wherewith to plaster it; or he -kicks over an ash-barrel in passing upon a nicely swept side-walk; or -he rings the door-bell violently, and makes a flying exit, having -ascertained previously the policeman's "beat" on that district; or he -climbs the box round a favorite tree, which has just begun by its -grateful shade to refresh your eye and reward your care, and, -stripping off the most promising bough for a switch, goes up street -picking off the leaves and scattering them as he goes; or he will -stand at the bottom of a high flight of steps, upon the top step of -which is a lady waiting for admittance, and scream, "Oh, my--aint -_you_ got bully boots on?" He also is expert at stealing newspapers -from door-steps, and vociferating bogus extras about shocking murders -and fires, and "lass of life;" and flowers out in full glory in a red -shirt, in a pit of a Bowery theatre of an evening. - -Sometimes he diverts himself throwing stones at the windows of passing -cars, and splintering the glass into the eyes of frightened ladies and -children, and suddenly disappearing as if the earth had opened and -swallowed him, as you wish some day it would. - -What this boy will be as a man, it is not difficult to tell. He counts -one at the ballot-box, remember that, when you deny cultivated, -intelligent, loyal _women_ a vote there. - - * * * * * - -If there is one sight more offensive to me in New York than another, -it is that of a servant in livery. Daily my republican soul is vexed -by the different varieties of this public nuisance. Sometimes he -appears to me in the sacerdotal garb--a long, petticoat-y suit of -solemn black, with stainless stiff white cravat. Then again he crosses -my path, bedizzened in blue, with yellow facings, and top-boots. Then -again he flames out like a poll-parrot, in green coat, and scarlet -waistcoat. Again, his white gloves, and broad hat-band, are the only -public advertisements of his servitude. Generally upon the hat of this -animal is mounted the "cockade," which his parvenu master imagines is -just the thing, but which in reality is in "the old country" only worn -by servants of _military_ men. Yesterday I saw a vehicle, in which was -seated a gentleman, driving a fine pair of horses, and behind him, on -a small seat, was his man-servant with his arms folded like a trussed -turkey, _and his back turned to his master_. This last fact seemed to -me a very funny one; but, I dare say, it is satisfactorily accounted -for in some book of heraldry, unfortunately not in my library. Now, it -is not for a moment to be supposed, that when but so lately the nation -was struggling for its "God-given rights," that the _men_ of America -are interested in these finikin-equine-millineries. Of course not. -They are to be pitied; they are undoubtedly the too compliant victims -of weak wives and silly daughters. For themselves, I have no doubt -they are sick at their manly hearts at these servile and -badly-executed imitations of old-country flunkeyism, and blush, with -an honest shame, at being obliged to parade this disgusting and -ill-timed exhibition, in the same streets where our maimed soldiers -are limping home, with our torn and blackened flag, which tells so -well its mute, eloquent story. - - * * * * * - -Let me speak of a pleasanter topic: my visit to the newsboys. One -Sunday evening I went to "The Newsboys' Lodging House, 128 Fulton -Street, New York." Few people who stop these little fellows in the -street to purchase a paper, ever glance at their faces, much less give -a thought to their belongings, associations or condition. Oh! had you -only been down there with me that evening, and looked into those -hundred and fifty intelligent, eager faces, numbered their respective -ages, inquired into their friendless past, given a thought to the -million temptations with which their _present_ is surrounded, spite of -all the well directed efforts of Christian philanthropy, and looked -forward into their possible future, your eyes would have filled, and -your heart beat quicker, as you have said to yourself, Oh, yes; -something _must_ be done to save these children. - -Children! for many of them are no more. Children! already battling -with life, though scarce past the nursery age. Imagine your own dear -boy, with the bright eyes and the broad, white forehead, whom you tuck -so comfortably in his little soft bed at night, with a prayer and a -kiss; whom you look at the last thing on retiring; for whom you gladly -toil; whom you hedge around with virtuous, wholesome influences from -the cradle; who does not yet know even the meaning of the word "evil;" -who jumps into your arms as soon as he wakes in the morning, with the -sweet certainty of a warm love-clasp; who has the nicest bit, at -breakfast, laid on his little plate; whose little stories and -questions always find eager and sympathizing ears; imagine this little -fellow of seven or eight, or ten years, getting out of his bed at one -or two o'clock in the morning, going out into the dark, chill, -lonesome street, half-clad, hungry, alone to some newspaper office, to -wait for the damp morning papers, as they are worked from the press, -and seizing his bundle, hurrying, barefoot and shivering, to some -newspaper stand or depot, at the farther part of the city. Imagine -_your_ little Charley doing that! Then, if that were all! If this -drain on the physical immaturity of childhood were the worst of it. -The devil laughs as he knows it is not. Big boys--_men_, -even--_cheat_; why not he? If he can pass off bad change--surely, who -has more need to make a sixpence, though it be not an honest one? What -care customers if he grow up a good or a bad man, so that the -newspaper comes in time to season their warm breakfast? Who will ever -care for him living, or mourn for him dead? What does it matter, -anyhow? - -That's the way this poor friendless child reasons. I understood it all -last night. All too that this noble philanthropy called "The Newsboys' -Lodging House" meant. And as I looked round on those boys, I felt -afraid when they were addressed, that the right thing might not be -said to so peculiar an audience. For children though they were, they -had seen life as men see it. Untutored, uneducated, in one sense, in -others they knew as much as any adult who should address them. -Sharpened by actual hard-fisted grappling with the world, let him be -careful who should speak to these grown-up children of seven, and ten, -and fourteen years. Thinking thus, I said, as their friend, Mr. C. L. -Brace, rose to speak--pray God, he may take all this into -consideration. Pray God, he may give them neither creeds nor theology; -but, instead, the wide open arms of the good, pitiful, loving -Saviour, whose home on earth was with the lowly and the friendless. -And he did! It was a human address. The God he told them of was not -out of their reach. It was every word pure gold. Bless him for it! He -had them all by the hand, and the heart too. I saw that. Promptly, -frankly, and with the confidence of children in the family, they -answered his questions as to their views on the chapter in the Bible -he read them. And if you smiled at some of their queer notions, the -tear was in your eye the next minute at the blessed thought that they -had friends who cared whether the immortal part of them slumbered or -woke; who recognized and fanned into a flame even the smallest -particle of mentality. Now and then among the crowd a head or face -would attract your eye, and you would be lost in wonder to see it -_there_! The head and face of what I call "_a mother's boy_." God -knows if its owner had one, or, if it had, if she cared for him! And -as they sang together of "The Friend that never grew weary," my heart -responded, aye--aye--why should I forget that? - -I hope you will go--and you and you--on some Sabbath evening, if you -come to New York. They love to feel that people take an interest in -them. It brightens and cheers their lives. It gives them self-respect -and motive for trying to do right; and don't forget to ask the -Superintendent, Mr. O Conner, to show you the nice little beds where -they sleep. _Do_ go; and if you can say a few words to them, or tell -them a bright short story, so much the better. They will know you -next time they sell you a newspaper; don't forget to shake hands with -them _then_. And take your little pet boy Charley down there. Show him -the little fellows who go into business in New York at seven and ten -years old, and have no father or mother at night to kiss them to -sleep. It will be a lesson better than any he will ever learn at -school. He will find out that all boys are not born to plum-cake and -sugar candy, and some of the best and smartest boys too. He will open -his eyes when you tell him that without plum-cake, or candy, or a -grandpa, or an aunt, or father or mother to care for them, some of the -newsboys who came from that very house, to-day own farms in the West, -that they earned selling newspapers, and have since come back for -other newsboys to go out there and help them work on it. Tell Charley -that. I think he will be ashamed to cry again because there was "not -sugar enough in his milk." - - * * * * * - -People who visit a great city, and explore it with a curious eye, -generally overlook the most remarkable things in it. They "do it up" -in Guide-Book fashion, going the stereotyped rounds of custom-ridden -predecessors. If _my_ chain were a little longer, I would write you a -book of travels that would at least have the merit of ignoring the -usual finger-posts that challenge travellers. I promise you I would -cross conservative lots, and climb over conservative fences, and leave -the rags and tatters of custom fluttering on them, behind me, as I -strode on to some unfrequented hunting-ground. - -That's the way I'd do. Never a "lord" or "lady," or a "palace," or a -"picture gallery," should figure in my note-book. "Old masters" and -young masters would be all the same to me. When my book was finished, -if nobody else wanted to read it, I'd sit down and read it myself. Of -course you know such a method pre-supposes a little capital to start -with, at the present price of paper; but really, I put it to you, -wouldn't that be the only honest and racy way to write a book? - -Don't be alarmed--there's no chance of my doing it. I dream of it, -though, sometimes--this deliciousness of "speaking right out in -meetin'" without fear of the bugbear of excommunication. And speaking -of "meetin,'" that's what I have been coming at. The "Fulton-street -daily prayer-meeting." It is one of the most wonderful sights in New -York. In the busiest hour of the day, in its busiest business street, -noisy with machinery of all kinds, even the earth under your feet -sending out puffs of steam at every other step, to remind you of its -underground labor, is a little plain room, with a reading-desk and a -few benches, with hymn-books scattered about. Take a seat, and watch -the worshippers as they collect. _Men_, with only a sprinkling of -bonnets here and there. Business men, evidently; some with good coats, -some with bad; porters, hand-cartmen, policemen, ministers; the young -man of eighteen or twenty, the portly man of forty, and the bent -form, whitening head, and faltering step of age. For _one_ hour they -want to ignore, and get out of, that maelstrom-whirl, into a spiritual -atmosphere. They feel that they have souls as well as bodies to care -for, and they don't want to forget it. How lonely soever yonder man, -in that great rough coat, may be, in this great, strange city, to -which he has just come, here is sympathy, here is companionship, here -are, in the best sense, "brethren." Never mind creeds; that is not -what they assemble to discuss. _But has that man a burden, a grief or -a sorrow, which is intensified tenfold_ by want of sympathy? Nobody -knows his name; nobody is curious to know. He has sent a little slip -of paper up to the desk, and he wants them all to pity and pray for -him. It may be the man on this seat, or that yonder--nobody knows. -Yes--"_pray_" for him. Perhaps you are smiling. You "don't believe in -prayer." Oh, wait till some strand of earthly hope is parting, before -you are quite sure of that. Was there ever an hour of peril or human -agony through which he or she who "did not believe in prayer," was -passing, that the lips did not involuntarily frame the short prayer, -"Oh, God?" - -Well, they "pray" for him. He feels stronger and better as he listens. -He has found friends, even here in this great whirling city, who are -sorry for him; of whose circle he can make one, whenever he chooses; -and to whom he can more fully introduce himself, if he cares to be -better known. - -_I say it is a good and a noble thing._ It warmed and gladdened my -heart to see it. And all the more, that at every step, on leaving, I -saw the "traps" of the Evil One, sprung for that man's return -footsteps. - -One of the pleasantest features of this "one-hour meeting" to me was -the hymns. I don't know or care whether they were "sung in tune." It -wasn't _hired_ singing, thank God! It came straight from orthodox -lungs, with a will and a spirit. Those old "come-to-Jesus" hymns! I -tell you I long for them sometimes with a homesick longing, like that -of the exiled Swiss for his favorite mountain song. You may pick up -the hymn-books containing them, and with your critical forefinger -point to "hell" and "an angry God," and all that. It makes no -difference to me. Don't I take pleasure in looking at your face, -though your nose isn't quite straight, and your eyes are not perfect, -and your shoulders are not shaped to my mind. I don't mind _that_, so -that there's a heart-tone in your voice, a love-look in your eye, when -I'm heart-sore--don't you see? - -Oh! I liked that meeting. I'm going again. It was so homely, and -hearty, and Christian. One man said, "_them_ souls." Do you think I -flounced out of the meeting for that? I liked it. One poor foreigner -couldn't pronounce straight, for the life of him. So much the better. -His stammering tongue will be all right some day. I haven't the least -idea who all those people were, singing and praying there; but I never -can tell you how I liked it. That "Come to Jesus" was sung with a -_heart-ring_ that I haven't stopped hearing, yet, though I have slept -on it once or twice. You may say "priestcraft!" "early education!" and -all that. There are husks with the wheat, I know; but for all that--I -tell you there is _wheat_! - - * * * * * - -With submission, to the authorities it seems to me that the Sunday -Schools of to-day are somewhat perverted from the original intention -of their founders. As I understand it, their object was to collect the -children of poor, ignorant parents for Biblical instruction. I look -out of my window, every Sunday morning, upon the spectacle of gaily -attired little ladies and gentlemen, leaving their brown-stone fronts -of handsome dwellings, and tripping lightly in dainty boots to the -vestries of well-to-do churches. As I watch them, I wonder why their -parents, educated, intelligent people, or at least with plenty of -leisure, should shift upon the shoulders of Sunday-school teachers so -responsible a duty? I say "duty," and it is a cold, hard word to use, -in connection with a dear little child whose early lessons on -religious subjects should be carefully and cautiously and judiciously -unfolded. I cannot understand, and I say this without meaning any -disrespect to the great army of well-meaning, good-hearted -Sunday-school teachers all over the land, how these parents can -reserve to themselves on Sunday morning only the dear pleasure of -decking their little persons in gay Sunday attire, and never -ask--never inquire--never think--what may be the answer given by a -Sunday-school teacher, to the far reaching childish question, which -may involve a lifetime of bewilderment, perplexity, and spiritual -unrest, to the little creature, each shining fold of whose garment has -been smoothed and patted into place by these "doting" parents; it may -be treasonable to say so, but it seems to me an unnatural proceeding. -Then again I think these children should not occupy the time and -attention of teachers, while the poor, who are always with us, are -totally uninstructed, far beyond all the humane attempts that have -been made, and are daily making, to accomplish this purpose. Surely no -teacher whose heart is in his or her work, would let the want of fine -clothes stand in the way of such effort. Now when I see the children -in a locality like the Five Points, or in the various mission schools -established for the benefit of children, I say--Now _that_ is "a -Sunday-school" after the plan of the founders. These children, who -have nothing inviting at their miserable homes on Sunday; whose weary -parents have no heart or strength or knowledge for these things; -gathered in here by kind men and women; to whom this weekly reunion is -perhaps the only bright spot in their whole little horizon; who sing -their little songs with real heart and feeling; who believe in their -teachers, because they know they have come down to inodorous, -disagreeable localities, and love them because their lives are not -cast in pleasant places; these teachers who, if the children have had -no dinner or breakfast, _give_ them dinner or breakfast--why--that I -call a practical Sunday School! It is a blessed thing; and no one can -listen to the hearty singing of these little uncared-for waifs of the -street, without a choking feeling in the throat, that, if voiced, -would be, God bless these teachers? If they were taught nothing but -those simple little songs, it were worth all the time, and money, and -self-sacrifice involved in the teaching. - -Those words ring in their ears during the week. They sing them on the -door-steps of the miserable dwellings they call home; there is a -"heaven" somewhere, they feel, where misery, and dirt, and degradation -are unknown. The passer-by listens--some discouraged man, perhaps, -whom the world has roughly used--some wretched woman who weeps, as she -listens; and this little bit of Gospel, so unobtrusive, so accidental, -so sweetly voiced, is like the seed the wind wafts to some far-off -rock--when you look again, there is the full-blown flower; no one knew -how it took root or whence it came, but, thank God, winds and storms -have no power to dislodge it. My heart warms to such Sunday-schools; -and, without any wish to disparage others, I cannot but think that, if -the parents who are in condition to instruct their own children, would -not delegate this duty, the hundreds of teachers by this means freed, -might gather in the stray lambs, whose souls and bodies no man cares -for. - - * * * * * - -The stranger in New York will not find that its population affect -Evening Lectures as much as in smaller cities, and in rural districts, -owing to the surfeit of all kinds of amusements there; but it is very -curious to study an expectant audience in New York. Some sit resignedly -upon their seats, comfortable or the reverse, as the case may be; -thinking of nothing, or thinking of something, just as it happens, in a -sort of amiable-chew-the-cud-stupor, oblivious of the slow-dragging -moments. Others pull out watches for frequent consultation, shuffle -feet, and take an affectionate and mournful and fond look at a furtive -cigar, which can be of no possible present use. Others, with an -enviable forethought, draw from the depths of coat-pockets the daily -papers, and studiously apply themselves to the contents, to the -manifest envy of that improvident class who are obliged to fall back -upon the unsatisfactory employment of twiddling their fidgety thumbs. -As for the _ladies_, bless 'em! they are never at a loss. Are there not -gloves to pull off, to show a diamond ring to advantage, and glistening -bracelets to settle, and the last finishing polish to put upon hair, -already groomed to the satin smoothness of a respectable hair-sofa? -This duty done, the first bonnet within range passes under the -inspection of an inexorable martinet, viz: "Did _she_ make it herself?" -or, "Is it the approved work of a milliner?" "Does her hair curl -naturally?" or, "Does she curl it?" "Is her collar _real_ lace?" or, -"Only imitation?" These professional detective-queries, so amusing to -the general female mind, while away the time edifyingly, especially -when there is a variety of heads within eye-range for minute -inspection. - - * * * * * - -"What can _she_ have to tell us that we did not know before?" I heard -some one say, as we took our seats in the Lecture-room to hear a -Female Lecturess. Have you always, thought I, heard new and original -remarks from the _male_ speakers, whose audiences yawned through -fifty-cents-worth of bombast, and platitudes, and repetition, in this -very place? And is it not worth while, sometimes, to look at a subject -from an intelligent _woman's_ stand-point? And granting she were -wanting in every requisite that you consider essential in a public -speaker, if she can draw an audience, why shouldn't she fill her -pocket? Is it less commendable than marrying somebody--anybody--for -the sake of being supported, and finding out too late, as many women -do, that it is the toughest possible way of getting a living? As I -view it, her life is not unpleasant. She takes long journeys _alone_, -it is true--and very likely so she would have to do, if she took any, -were she married. At least, she circulates about in the fresh air, -among fresh people, makes many acquaintances, and, let us hope, some -friends; instead of gnawing the bone of monotony all her colorless -life. And what if a hiss should meet her sensitive ear from some adder -in her audience? Does it sting more than would a brutal word at her -own fireside, whither she was lured by promises of love until death? - -If conservatism is shocked to hear a woman speak in public, let -conservatism stay away; but let it be consistent, and not forget to -frown on its own women, who elbow and push their way in a crowded -assembly, and with sharp tongue and hurrying feet "grab"--yes, that's -the word--the most eligible seat, or who push into public conveyances -already filled to over-flowing, and, with brazen impudence, wonder -aloud "if these are _gentlemen_," as they try to look them out of -their seats. There be many ways a woman can "unsex" herself, beside -lecturing in public. - -Not that I see, either, how they can get up and do it. Somebody would -have to put me on my defence; or somebody I loved dearly must be -starving, and need the fee I should get, before _I_ could muster the -requisite courage? but none the less do I honor those who can do it. -So many have acquitted themselves honorably in this field of labor, -that this subject needs neither defender nor apologist; but still, -much of the old spirit of opposition occasionally manifests itself, -even now, in spiteful comments from lip and pen, particularly with -regard to the more fortunate. - -_They_ can stand it!--with a good house over their independent heads, -secured and paid for by their own honest industry. They can stand -it!--with greenbacks and Treasury notes stowed away against a rainy -day. _They_ can stand it!--with any quantity of "admirers" who, not -having pluck or skill enough to earn their own living, would gladly -share what these enterprising women have accumulated. May a good -Providence multiply female lecturers, female sculptors, female artists -of every sort, female authors, female astronomers, female -book-keepers, female--anything that is honest, save female -_sempstresses_, with their pale faces, hollow eyes and empty pockets, -and a City Hospital or Almshouse in prospective. - - * * * * * - -Certainly these earnest women lecturers are in pleasant contrast to -many of the young men of the present day, to whom nothing is sacred, -to whom everything in life is levelled to the same plane of -indifference. Nothing is worth a struggle; nothing worth a sacrifice -to them. Evils, they say, must come; and, folding their hands idly, -they say--let them come. In _their_ moral garden, weeds have equal -chance with the flowers; and it is very easy to see which are in the -ascendant. To be in the blighting proximity of such a person is to -breathe the air of the bottomless pit. Every noble aspiration, every -humane and philanthropic feeling, shrivels in such an atmosphere. What -is it to them that the poor bondman points to his chains? What is it -to them that the world groans with wrong that they can and should at -least begin to redress. The mountain is steep, the top is hidden in -clouds, and they have no eye to discern that they are even now parting -that a glory may gild its summit. It is bad enough--humiliating -enough--to hear the aged express such chilling sentiments. One can -have a pitying patience with them; but when masculine youth and -vigor, born to the glorious inheritance of 1864, tricks itself out in -these old moth-eaten, time-worn garments, instead of buckling on sword -and helmet for God and the right, it is the saddest, most -disheartening sight that earth can show. - - * * * * * - -And speaking of young men, did you ever, when shopping in New York, -notice the different varieties of clerks one sees. There is your -zealous clerk, who thinks fuss is impressive. When you enter, he -places one hand on the counter and turns a somerset over to the other -side, with an astonishing agility equalled only at the circus; he -twitches down the desired piece of goods from the shelf and slaps it -down on the counter with a whirlwind velocity that would send your -bonnet through the door into the street were it not fastened firmly on -by the strings. You catch your breath and sneeze at the dust he has -raised, and trust that _this_ part of the performance is over. Not at -all; he repeats it with another elevation of the piece of goods in the -air, announcing the price per yard, just as its second flapping -descent makes said announcement inaudible. You sneeze again as the -dust fills your nostrils, and stoop to pick up your handkerchief which -he has sent flying to the floor. By this time, if you can recollect -what it is you came to buy, or how many yards of the same you desire, -you have more self-possession and patience than I. - -Then there is your stupid clerk, who thinks you mean blue when you say -green; who thinks flannel and ribbon are one and the same article; who -gives you short measure and short change if you buy, and impresses you -with the idea that he "don't come home till morning." Then there is -your impertinent clerk, who puts his face unnecessarily close to your -bonnet; who assures you that every article he sells is "chaste," if -you know what that means in such a connexion; who inquires, before you -have even glanced at the fabric, "how many yards _you said_ you would -require?" who leans forward on both elbows and stares you in the face -as if his very soul were exhaling. _He's_ a study! Then there's your -inattentive clerk, who makes you wait for an answer while he finishes -some discussion with a brother clerk, or details to him some grievance -he has suffered with the principal of the establishment, or narrates -to him some personal affair, apart from business; meanwhile tossing -for your inspection, as one would throw a bone to a troublesome dog, -any piece of goods that comes handiest, to occupy your mind till he -gets ready to attend you. Then there's your surly clerk, who acts as -though he were afflicted with a perpetual cold in his head, that -incapacitates him from giving any information you require, save by -piecemeal, and at long intervals, but who has yet a marvellous quick -ear to catch any conversation that may be going on between you and -your companion; who, if the latter ventures to remark to you -confidentially that she has seen the article under consideration at -less cost, at such or such a place, volunteers the civil remark "that -it must have been a beauty!" Then, there's your clerk with a high and -mighty presence. What! ask _him_ the price of a ribbon, or a yard of -silk? Shade of Daniel Webster forbid! The idea is sacrilege. You pass -to another counter as fast as possible, in search of some more -ordinary mortal, capable of understanding petty human wants. Then, -there's your dandy clerk. Isn't that cherry-colored neck-tie killing? -And the sleeve-buttons on those wristbands? And the way that hair is -brushed? And the seal-ring on that little finger? And the cut of that -coat, particularly about the shoulders, and the lovely fit of the -sleeves. Don't he consider himself an ornament to the shop? - -Last, not least, there's your sensible, self-respecting, gentlemanly -clerk--young or old, married or single, as the case may be--incapable -alike of officiousness or inattention; who gives you time silently to -look at that which you desire to see; who answers you civilly and -respectfully when you speak to him; who counts your change carefully -for you, and sends you off with the desire to make another purchase at -that shop the very first opportunity. - -As to the _female_ clerks, my pen is fettered there; as I always make -it a rule to stand by my own sex in any and every attempt to earn -their own livelihood innocently and honestly, no matter how many -blunders they make in doing it. Suffice it to say that there is quite -as much variety in their deportment as in that of the males. I think -if I were about to join them, I should be sadly puzzled whether to -choose a male or female shop-proprietor. When a man _is_ a brute, he -is _such_ a brute! And when one's bread and butter depends on him, -heaven help the dependent. Now, one could call a _woman_-proprietor a -"nasty thing," and then she'd say, "you are another," and there'd be -an end of it. But a man-brute would "know the law," as he calls it; -and swear that he'd "paid you your salary, and didn't owe you a cent;" -and scare you, if you were not up to such rascality, with what he -_could_ say if you made him any trouble. Or, if you were young and -pretty, you might have to choose between the endurance of his -condescending attentions or the loss of your place. That much I can -say on the subject. Also that I have seen some of the prettiest and -most lady-like women I ever saw, employed as clerks in New York; also -there are some so ill-mannered that they pretend not to hear what you -inquire for, and keep you standing till they have taken a minute -inventory of the dry-goods on your back. Then there are some who look -so utterly weary and homesick and heartsick, that you long to -say--"Poor thing! come cry it all out on my shoulder." - - * * * * * - -A MORNING AT STEWART'S. - -It is not often that I treat myself to a stroll into Stewart's great -shop. Mortal woman cannot behold such perfection _too_ often and -live. It is like a view of the vast ocean, so humiliating and -depressing by its immensity and sublimity that little atoms of -humanity are glad to creep away from it, to some locally-big elevation -of their own. Once in a while, when I feel strong enough to bear it, -when the day is very bright, and the atmosphere propitious, I put on a -bold face and plunge in with the throng. When I say "throng" I don't -wish to be understood as meaning anything like a mob. It is a very -curious circumstance that how objectionably soever "throngs" may -behave elsewhere, even that most disorderly of all throngs, a -_woman_-throng--yet at Stewart's so suggestive of order and system is -the place, that immediately on entering, they involuntarily "fall into -line," like proper little Sunday scholars in a procession, and never -shuffle or elbow the least bit. Perhaps they are astonished into good -behavior by the sight of those well-behaved statuesque clerks--I don't -know. Perhaps with the artistic manner in which yonder silky-inky -bearded Italian-looking, red-neck-tied gentleman, has arranged the -different shades of silk on yonder counter; so that, as the light -falls on it from the window, it looks like a splendid display of -folded tulips and roses. Perhaps it is the imposing well-to-do portly -individual who walks up and down between the rows of counters, -snapping his eyes about, as if to say--"Ladies, if this don't suit -you, what in heaven's name _will_?" Perhaps it is the eel-like manner -in which little "Cash" winds in and out, with his neatly-tied parcels, -and bank-bills and change. Perhaps it is the astounding sight of -yonder fur-cape, as displayed to advantage on one of those revolving -lay-figures. Perhaps it is the cloak room up-stairs, where the ladies -sigh as they tumble over heaps of beautiful garments, unable to choose -from such a superfluity. "How happy could I be with either, were the -other dear charmer away!" Perhaps 'tis the thought of the money that -must have been expended in this wonderful Juniper store, inside and -out, first and last, and "if _they_ only had it," how many diamonds, -and laces, and silks it would buy, _all at once_; instead of taking it -in disgraceful little installments from their stingy husbands, so that -they positively blush when Stewart's factotum inquires, "Any thing -more this morning, ma'am?" to be obliged to answer "No." I don't -pretend to comprehend the talismanic spell; but I know that at other -than Stewart's I see those very women, snub and brow-beat clerks, and -put on astounding airs generally, as women will when let out on a -shopping spree.--I see none of it there. Indeed, I sometimes think -that if the great Stewart himself were bodily to order them out, they -would neither mutter, nor peep mutinously; but turn about, like a -flock of sheep, and obediently leap over the threshold. The amount of -it is, Stewart is a sort of dry-goods "Rarey." Perhaps husbands wink -at the thing and give the little dears coppers to spend there on -purpose--I don't know. - - - - -_THE WORKING-GIRLS OF NEW YORK._ - - -Nowhere more than in New York does the contest between squalor and -splendor so sharply present itself. This is the first reflection of -the observing stranger who walks its streets. Particularly is this -noticeable with regard to its women. Jostling on the same pavement -with the dainty fashionist is the care-worn working-girl. Looking at -both these women, the question arises, which lives the more miserable -life--she whom the world styles "fortunate," whose husband belongs to -three clubs, and whose only meal with his family is an occasional -breakfast, from year's end to year's end; who is as much a stranger to -his own children as to the reader; whose young son of seventeen has -already a detective on his track employed by his father to ascertain -where and how he spends his nights and his father's money; swift -retribution for that father who finds food, raiment, shelter, -equipages for his household; but love, sympathy, companionship--never? -Or she--this other woman--with a heart quite as hungry and unappeased, -who also faces day by day the same appalling question: _Is this all -life has for me?_ - -A great book is yet unwritten about women. Michelet has aired his -wax-doll theories regarding them. The defender of "woman's rights" -has given us her views. Authors and authoresses of little, and big -repute, have expressed themselves on this subject, and none of them as -yet have begun to grasp it: men--because they lack spirituality, -rightly and justly to interpret women; women--because they dare not, -or will not, tell us that which most interests us to know. Who shall -write this bold, frank, truthful book remains to be seen. Meanwhile -woman's millennium is yet a great way off; and while it slowly -progresses, conservatism and indifference gaze through their -spectacles at the seething elements of to-day, and wonder "what ails -all our women?" - -Let me tell you what ails the working-girls. While yet your breakfast -is progressing, and your toilet unmade, comes forth through Chatham -Street and the Bowery, a long procession of them by twos and threes to -their daily labor. Their breakfast, so called, has been hastily -swallowed in a tenement house, where two of them share, in a small -room, the same miserable bed. Of its quality you may better judge, -when you know that each of these girls pays but three dollars a week -for board, to the working man and his wife where they lodge. - -The room they occupy is close and unventilated, with no accommodations -for personal cleanliness, and so near to the little Flinegans that -their Celtic night-cries are distinctly heard. They have risen -unrefreshed, as a matter of course, and their ill-cooked breakfast -does not mend the matter. They emerge from the doorway where their -passage is obstructed by "nanny goats" and ragged children rooting -together in the dirt, and pass out into the street. They shiver as the -sharp wind of early morning strikes their temples. There is no look of -youth on their faces; hard lines appear there. Their brows are knit; -their eyes are sunken; their dress is flimsy, and foolish, and tawdry; -always a hat, and feather or soiled artificial flower upon it; the -hair dressed with an abortive attempt at style; a soiled petticoat; a -greasy dress, a well-worn sacque or shawl, and a gilt breast-pin and -earrings. - -Now follow them to the large, black-looking building, where several -hundred of them are manufacturing hoop-skirts. If you are a woman you -have worn plenty; but you little thought what passed in the heads of -these girls as their busy fingers glazed the wire, or prepared the -spools for covering them, or secured the tapes which held them in -their places. _You_ could not stay five minutes in that room, where -the noise of the machinery used is so deafening, that only by the -motion of the lips could you comprehend a person speaking. - -Five minutes! Why, these young creatures bear it, from seven in the -morning till six in the evening; week after week, month after month, -with only half an hour at midday to eat their dinner of a slice of -bread and butter or an apple, which they usually eat in the building, -some of them having come a long distance. As I said, the roar of -machinery in that room is like the roar of Niagara. Observe them as -you enter. Not one lifts her head. They might as well be machines, -for any interest or curiosity they show, save always to know _what -o'clock it is_. Pitiful! pitiful, you almost sob to yourself, as you -look at these young girls. _Young?_ Alas! it is only in years that -they are young. - - * * * * * - -"Only three dollars a week do they earn," said I to a brawny woman in -a tenement house near where some of them boarded. "Only three dollars -a week, and all of that goes for their board. How, then, do they -clothe themselves?" Hell has nothing more horrible than the cold, -sneering indifference of her reply: "_Ask the dry-goods men._" - -Perhaps you ask, why do not these girls go out to service? Surely it -were better to live in a clean, nice house, in a healthy atmosphere, -with respectable people, who might take other interest in them than to -wring out the last particle of their available bodily strength. It -were better surely to live in a house cheerful and bright, where merry -voices were sometimes heard, and clean, wholesome food was given them. -Why do they not? First, because, unhappily, they look down upon the -position of a servant, even from _their_ miserable stand-point. But -chiefly, and mainly, because when six o'clock in the evening comes -they are their own mistresses, without hinderance or questioning, till -another day of labor begins. They do not sit in an under-ground -kitchen, watching the bell-wire, and longing to see what is going on -out of doors. More's the pity, that the street is their only refuge -from the squalor and quarrelling and confusion of their tenement-house -home. More's the pity, that as yet there are no sufficiently decent, -cleanly boarding-houses, within their means, where their self-respect -would not inevitably wither and die. - -As it is, they stroll the streets; and who can blame them? _There_ are -gay lights, and fine shop-windows. It costs nothing to _wish_ they -could have all those fine things. They look longingly into the -theatres, through whose doors happier girls of their own age pass, -radiant and smiling, with their lovers. Glimpses of Paradise come -through those doors as they gaze. Back comes the old torturing -question: Must my young life _always_ be toil? _nothing_ but toil? -They stroll on. Music and bright lights from the underground "Concert -Saloons," where girls like themselves get fine dresses and good wages, -and flattering words and smiles beside. Alas! the future is far away; -the present only is tangible. Is it a wonder if they never go back to -the dark, cheerless tenement-house, or to the "manufactory" which sets -their poor, weary bodies aching, till they feel forsaken of God and -man? Talk of virtue! Live this life of toil, and starvation, and -friendlessness, and "unwomanly rags," and learn charity. Sometimes -they rush for escape into ill-sorted marriages, with coarse rough -fellows, and go back to the old tenement-house life again, with this -difference, that their toil does _not_ end at six o'clock, and that -from _this_ bargain there is no release but death. - -But there are other establishments than those factories where -working-girls are employed. There is "Madame ----, Modiste." Surely -the girls working there must fare better. Madame pays six thousand -dollars rent for the elegant mansion in that fashionable street, in -the basement or attic of which they work. Madame cuts and makes -dresses, but she takes in none of the materials for that purpose. Not -she. She coolly tells you that she will make you a very nice _plain_ -black silk dress, and find everything, for two hundred dollars. This -is modest, at a clear profit to herself of one hundred dollars on -every such dress, particularly as she buys all her material by the -wholesale, and pays her girls, at the highest rate of compensation, -not more than six dollars a week. At this rate of small wages and big -profits, you can well understand how she can afford not only to keep -up this splendid establishment, but another still more magnificent for -her own _private_ residence in quite as fashionable a neighborhood. -Another "modiste" who _did_ "take in material for dresses," -and--ladies also! was in the habit of telling the latter that -thirty-two yards of any material was required where sixteen would have -answered. The remaining yards were then in all cases thrown into a -rag-pen; from which, through contract with a man in her employ, she -furnished herself with all the crockery, china, glass, tin and iron -ware needed in her household. This same modiste employed twenty-five -girls at the starvation price of three dollars and a half a week. The -room in which they worked was about nine feet square, with only one -window in it, and whoso came early enough to secure a seat by that -window saved her eyesight by the process. Three sewing-machines -whirred constantly by day in this little room, which at night was used -as a sleeping apartment. As the twenty-five working-girls were ushered -in to their day's labor in the morning before that room was -ventilated, you would not wonder that by four in the afternoon dark -circles appeared under their eyes, and they stopped occasionally to -press their hands upon their aching temples. Not often, but -_sometimes_, when the pain and exhaustion became intolerable. - -One of the twenty-five was an orphan girl named Lizzy, only fifteen -years of age. Not even this daily martyrdom had quenched her abounding -spirits, in that room where never a smile was seen on another -face--where never a jest was ventured on, not even when Madame's back -was turned. Always Lizzie's hair was nicely smoothed, and though the -clean little creature went without her breakfast--for a deduction of -wages was the penalty of being late--yet had she always on a clean -dark calico dress, smoothed by her own deft little fingers. In that -dismal, smileless room she was the only sunbeam. But one day the -twenty-five were startled; their needles dropped from their fingers. -Lizzie was worn out at last! Her pretty face blanched, and with a low -baby cry she threw her arms over her face and sobbed: "Oh, I _cannot_ -bear this life--I cannot bear it any longer. George _must_ come and -take me away from this." That night she was privately married to -"George," who was an employee on the railroad. The next day while on -the train attending to his duties, he broke his arm, and neither of -the bridal pair having any money, George was taken to the hospital. -The little bride, with starvation before her, went back that day to -Madame, and concealing the fact of her marriage, begged humbly to be -taken back, apologizing for her conduct on the day before, on the plea -that she had such a violent pain in her temples that she knew not what -she said. As she was a handy little workwoman, her request was -granted, and she worked there for several weeks, during her honeymoon, -at the old rate of pay. The day George was pronounced well, she threw -down her work, clapped her little palms together, and announced to the -astonished twenty-five that they had a married woman among them, and -that she should not return the next morning. Being the middle of the -week, and not the end, she had to go without her wages for that week. -Romance was not part or parcel of Madame's establishment. Her law was -as the Medes and Persians, which changed not. Little Lizzie's future -was no more to her than her past had been--no more than that of -another young thing in that work-room, who begged a friend, each day, -to bring her ever so little ardent spirits, at the half hour allotted -to their miserable dinner, lest she should fail in strength to finish -the day's work, upon which so much depended. - -Oh! if the ladies who wore the gay robes manufactured in that room -knew the tragedy of those young lives, would they not be to them like -the penance robes of which we read, piercing, burning, torturing? - -There is still another class of girls, who tend in the large shops in -New York. Are they not better remunerated and lodged? We shall see. -The additional dollar or two added to their wages is offset by the -necessity of their being always nicely apparelled, and the necessity -of a better lodging-house, and consequently a higher price for board, -so that unless they are fortunate enough to have a parent's roof over -their heads, they will not, except in rare cases, where there is a -special gift as an accountant, or an artist-touch in the fingers, to -twist a ribbon or frill a lace, be able to save any more than the -class of which I have been speaking. They are allowed, however, by -their employers, to purchase any article in the store at first cost, -which is something in their favor. - -But, you say, is there no bright side to this dark picture? Are there -no cases in which these girls battle bravely with penury? I have one -in my mind now; a girl, I should say a lady; one of nature's ladies, -with a face as refined and delicate as that of any lady who bends over -these pages; who has been through this harrowing experience of the -working-girl, and after years of patience, virtuous toil, has no more -at this day than when she began, _i. e._, her wages day by day. Of the -wretched places she has called "home," I will not pain you by -speaking. Of the rough words she has borne, that she was powerless, -through her poverty, to resent. Of the long walks she has taken to -obtain wages due, and failed to secure them at last. Of the weary, -wakeful nights, and heart-breaking days, borne with a heroism and -trust in God, that was truly sublime. Of the little remittances from -time to time forwarded to old age and penury, in "the old country," -when she herself was in want of comfortable clothing; when she herself -had no shelter in case of sickness, save the hospital or the -almshouse. Surely, such virtue and integrity, will have more enduring -record than in these pages. - -Humanity has not slept on this subject, though it has as yet -accomplished little. A boarding-house has been established in New York -for working-girls, excellent in its way, but intended mainly for those -who "have seen better days," and not for the most needy class of which -I have spoken. A noble institution, however, called "The Working -Woman's Protective Union," has sprung up, for the benefit of this -latter class, their object being to find places _in the country_, for -such of these girls as will leave the overcrowded city, not as -servants, but as operatives on sewing-machines, and to other similar -revenues of employment. Their places are secured before they are sent. -The person who engages them pays their expenses on leaving, and the -consent of parents, or guardians, or friends, is always obtained -before they leave. A room is to be connected with this institution, -containing several sewing-machines, where gratuitous instruction will -be furnished to those who desire it. A lawyer of New York has -generously volunteered his services also, to collect the too tardy -wages of these girls, due from flinty-hearted employers. Many of the -girls who have applied here are under fifteen. At first, they utterly -refused to go into the country, which to them was only another name -for dullness; even preferring to wander up and down the streets of the -city, half-fed and half-clothed, in search of employment, than to -leave its dear kaleidoscope delights. But after a little, when letters -came from some who had gone, describing in glowing terms, their -pleasant homes; the wages that one could live and save money on; their -kind treatment; the good, wholesome food and fresh air; their hearty, -jolly country fun; and more than all, when it was announced that one -of their number had actually married an ex-governor, the matter took -another aspect. And, though all may not marry governors, and some may -not marry at all; it still remains, that _inducing them to go to the -country is striking a brave blow at the root of the evil_; for we all -know, that human strength and human virtue have their limits; and the -dreadful pressure of temptations and present ease, upon the -discouragement, poverty and friendlessness of the working-girls of New -York, must be gratifying to the devil. I do not hesitate to say, that -there is no institution of the present day, more worthy to be -sustained, or that more imperatively challenges the good works and -good wishes of the benevolent, than "The New York Working Woman's -Protective Union." May God speed it! - - - - -_WASHING THE BABY._ - - -You may think it a very simple thing to wash a baby. You may imagine -that one feels quite calm and composed, while this operation is being -faithfully and conscientiously performed. That shows how little you -know. When I tell you that there are four distinct, delicate chins, to -be dodgingly manipulated, between frantic little crying spells, and as -many little rolls of fat on the back of the neck, that have to be -searched out and bathed, with all the endearing baby-talk you can -command, the while, as a blind to your merciless intentions; when I -tell you that of all things, baby won't have her ears or nose meddled -with, and that she resents any infringement on her toes with shrill -outbreaks, and that it takes two people to open her chubby little -fists, when water seeks to penetrate her palms. When I tell you the -masterly strategy that has to be used to get one stiff, little, -rebellious arm out of a cambric sleeve, and the frantic kickings which -accompany any attempts to tie on her little red worsted-shoe; when I -tell you that she objects altogether to be turned over on her stomach, -in order to tie the strings of her frock, and that she is just as mad -when you lay her on her back; when I inform you that she can stiffen -herself out when she likes, so that you can't possibly make her sit -down, and at another time will curl herself up in a circle, so that -you can't possibly straighten her out; and when you enumerate the -garments that have to be got off, and got on, before this process is -finally concluded, and that it is to be done before a baking fire, -without regard to the state of the thermometer, or the agonized dew on -your brow; when I inform you that every now and then you must stop in -the process, to see that she is not choking, or strangling, or that -you have not dislocated any of her funny little legs, or arms, or -injured her bobbing little head, you can form some idea of the relief -when the last string is tied, and baby emerges from this, her daily -misery, into a state of rosy, diamond-eyed, scarlet-lipped, content; -looking sweet and fresh as a rosebud, and drowsing off in your arms -with quivering white eyelids and pretty unknown murmurings of the -little half-smiling lips, while the perfect little waxen hands lie -idly by her side. Ah me! how shall one keep from spoiling a baby? Ah! -how can one ever give brimming enough love-measure--to this--_the -motherless_. - - - - -_CHILDREN HAVE THEIR RIGHTS._ - - -There is not a day of my life in which I am not vexed at the injustice -done to children. A Sunday or two since, I went to church. In the pew -directly in front of me sat a fine little lad, about twelve years old, -unobtrusively taking notes of the sermon. By my side sat a -man--gentleman, I suppose, he called himself--his coat, pants, boots, -and linen were all right as far as I am any judge, and dress seems to -be the test now-a-days--who occupied himself in leaning over the front -of the pew, and reading what the boy was writing--evidently much to -the discomfiture of the latter. Now I would like to ask, why that -child's pencilled notes should not have been as safe from curious eyes -as if he had been an adult? and what right that grown-up man had, to -bother and annoy him, by impertinently peeping over his shoulder? and -of what use is it to preach good manners to children, while nobody -thinks it worth while to practice the same toward them? The other day -I was sitting in a car, and a nice, well-behaved boy of ten years took -his seat and paid his fare. Directly after, in came the conductor, and -without a word of comment, coolly took him by the shoulder and placed -him on his feet, and then motioned a lady to his vacant seat? Why not -_ask_ the child, at least? I have often been struck with the ready -civility of boys in this respect, in public conveyances--but that is -no reason why they should be imposed upon; the lady who took the seat -might possibly have thanked a _gentleman_ for yielding it to her, but -she evidently did not think that good manners required she should -thank the boy. Again--what right has a gentleman to take a blushing -little girl of twelve or thirteen and seat her on his knee, when he -happens to want her seat. I have seen timid, bashful girls, suffering -crucifixion at the smiles called forth by this free and easy act; and -sometimes actually turning away their faces to conceal tears of -mortification; for there are little female children unspoiled even by -the present bold system of childhood annihilation--little violets who -seek the shade, and do not care to be handled and pulled about by -every passer-by. Again--why will parents, or those who have the charge -of children, make hypocrites of them by saying, Go kiss such and such -a person? A kiss is a holy thing, or should be, and not to be lightly -bestowed. At any rate, it never should be compulsorily given. Children -have their likes and dislikes, and often much more rationally grounded -than those of grown people, though they may not be able to syllable -them. I never shall forget a snuffy old lady whom I used to be -obliged, when a child, to kiss. I am not at all sure that my -unconquerable aversion to every form of tobacco does not date from -these repulsive and compulsory kisses. With what a lingering horror I -approached her, and with what a shiver of disgust I retreated to scrub -my lips with my pinafore, and shake my locks, lest peradventure a -particle of snuff had lodged there. How I wondered what she would do -in Heaven without that snuff-box, for she was a "church member," and -my notions of Heaven could by no stretch of liberality admit such a -nuisance; and how I inwardly vowed that if I ever grew to be a woman, -and if I ever was married, and if I ever had a little girl, all of -which were dead certainties in my childish future, I would never make -her kiss a person unless she chose to do it, never--never--which -article of my pinafore creed I do here publicly indorse with my -matronly hand. - - * * * * * - -Again, what more abominable tyranny than to force a child to eat -turnip, or cabbage, or fat meat or anything else for which it has an -unconquerable and unexplainable disgust? I have seen children actually -shudder and turn pale at being obliged to swallow such things. Pray, -why should not their wishes in this respect be regarded as much as -those of their seniors? Not that a child should eat everything which -it craves indiscriminately, but it should never, in my opinion, be -forced to swallow what is unpalatable, except in the case of medicine, -about which parents tell such fibs--that it "tastes good," and all -that--when they should say honestly, "It is very bad indeed, but you -know you _must_ take it, and the sooner it is over the better; now be -brave and swallow it." I do protest too against forcing big boys to -wear long curls down their backs after they are well into jackets, for -the gratification of mamma's pride, who "can't bear to cut them off," -not even though her boy skulks out of sight of every "fellow" he meets -for fear of being called a "girl-boy;" or the practice making a boy of -that age wear an apron, which the "fellows" are quite as apt to twit -him about, or anything else which makes him look odd or ridiculous. -There is no computing the suffering of children in these respects. I -dare say many who read this will say, "But they should be taught not -to mind such things," etc.; that's all very well to say, but suppose -you try it yourself;--suppose you were compelled to walk into church -on Sunday with a collar that covered your cheeks, and your -great-grand-father's coat and vest on; to hear the suppressed titters, -and be an object of remark every time you stirred; and you a man who -hated notoriety, and felt like knocking everybody down who stared at -you? How would that suit? Nothing like bringing a case home to -yourself. Just sit down and recall your own childhood, and remember -the big lumps in your little throat that seemed like to choke you, and -the big tears of shame that came rolling down on your jacket, from -some such cause, and don't go through the world striding with your -grown-up boots on little children. They are not all angels, I know; -some of them are malicious, and ugly, and selfish and disagreeable; -and whose fault is it?--answer me that? Not one time in ten, the -child's. You may be sure of it. God made it right, but there were -bunglers who undertook a charge from which an angel might shrink. - - * * * * * - -And now I want to put in a plea for the children about story-reading. -At a certain age, children of both sexes delight in stories. It is as -natural, as it is for them to skip, run and jump, instead of walking -at the staid pace of their grandparents. Now some parents, very well -meaning ones too, think they do a wise thing when they deny this most -innocent craving, any legitimate outlet. They wish to cultivate, they -say, "a taste for solid reading." They might as well begin to feed a -new-born baby on meat, lest nursing should vitiate its desire for it. -The taste for meat will come when the child has teeth to chew it; so -will the taste for "solid reading" as the mind matures--_i. e._, if it -is not made to hate it, by having it forced violently upon its -attention during the story-loving period. That "there is a time for -all things," is truer of nothing more, than of this. Better far that -parents should admit it, and _wisely_ indulge it, than, by a too -severe repression, give occasion for _stealthy_ promiscuous reading. - - * * * * * - -How delicious in these days of hot-house-childhood it is to find a -little one who can relish puss in the corner. To find one who does -not at six years of age turn up its little nose at everything but -"round dances," and a supper of "pâté de foie gras" and champagne. -What a sorrowful sight are those blasé languid little things who are -incapable of a new sensation before they are out of short clothes--to -whom already there is no childhood left--who have turned their backs -on that path of flowers to which they can never return, through long -years of satiety and weariness. What shall compensate them for the -dear, fresh, innocent, simple delights, which to children, naturally -and simply brought up, are so attractive? We are all making grave -mistakes about children. Those who unfortunately live always in a -great city, are mostly the sufferers. Life there is such a maelstrom, -swallowing up every hour so much that is lovely and beautiful. -Fathers, and mothers, delegating so much of the care and oversight of -them to those, whose paid service yields neither sympathy nor -appreciation to the victims under their charge. Toy shops are -ransacked, and small fortunes expended, to supply this lamentable -deficiency; till the weary little one at six or seven has exhausted -the stock, and sighs for "something new;" like a flirt who has put her -slipper on a thousand hearts, or a man of the world, reduced by too -much money and leisure, and too little brains, to caress the head of -his cane, long, weary hours, staring out of his club window. I think -this is very pitiful, both for the child and the man. Indeed it is -children so brought up, who make such men, and women of a -corresponding type. Life seems fast losing its simplicity merely for -want of the brave courage to defy fashion's encroachments. "What will -they think?" is at the bottom of it. Who among us has pluck enough to -snap our fingers at that question, and face the formidable--"_Did you -ever?_" which treads upon the heels of independent thought and action, -even in a right and obviously sensible direction. Nor is it a question -of sex. I find as much of this spirit, or the want of it, in one sex -as in the other, and the children are the victims. - -Now children naturally hate fine clothes and the restrictions upon -freedom and enjoyment that they impose. Children naturally prefer live -animals, to the pink dogs, and blue sheep, and green cows, presented -in a wooden "Noah's Ark." Children naturally prefer a garden and a -shovel, to a stereotyped lounge, with a silent cross nurse, over city -pavements. Children should be put to bed by loving hands, and their -eyes closed with a kiss, as our cherished dead pass into the land of -silence. Children should leap into loving arms when they again open -their eyes with the baptism of the fresh morning light. - -Children should be kept in ignorance of nearly all that is now as -familiar to their ears as their own names. But, alas! we all know how -different things really are, and the result--is the children of -to-day--children, with rare and blessed exceptions, only in name. Oh! -the perpetual "nurse;" the perpetual nursery! The sad sight of the -spirit-weary little child checked in its most innocent and healthy -impulses; called "naughty," for being buoyant and merry, till -sullenness and defiant mischief are the result. Oh, mother in the -parlor, take off that silk dress which little feet may not climb upon, -and take a seat in your own nursery, and give that little one the -love, without which its whole sweet nature shall be turned into -bitterness. Oh, father, at the sound of whose footstep that child must -_always_ "hush up" or beat a hasty retreat to parts unknown--how much, -how _very_ much you lose, when never that little face grows brighter -that "papa has come home;" when, with your hands thrust into your -coat-pocket, you lounge along toward your door, and never invite with -your love that dear blessed little nose, to flatten itself against the -window-pane, watching for "my papa." - -_My_ papa! Good heavens! what is it to be Senator, Member of Congress, -President, _King_, to that? "_My_ papa!" Man! what can you be thinking -of, that the sweet, trustful, blessed ownership in those two little -words, fails to move every drop of your blood? And what can the wide -earth, with all its cheating promises, give you, in compensation for -that which your short-sighted folly throws away? Oh, _sometimes_, stop -and think of that. - - - - -_MOURNING._ - - -It is very strange how differently people are affected by a great -bereavement. One desires nothing so much as to flee as far as possible -from any scene, or association, which shall recall the lost. Every -relic he would banish forever from his presence. The spot where his -dead was laid he would never revisit, and, if possible, never -remember. When the anniversary of death occurs, no person should -allude to it in his presence; he would himself prefer to glide -obliviously over it. Another finds comfort and solace in the very -opposite course. He desires nothing so much as that the little -favorite home-surroundings of the dead should remain unchanged, as if -the owner were still living. He would sit down among them, and recall -by these silent mementoes every cherished look and tone; jealously -recording every detail and circumstance, lest memory should prove -unfaithful to her trust. Everything worn by the form now lifeless, -would he have often before his eyes, touching their folds with -caressing fingers. At the table and by the hearth, rising up and -sitting down, going out and coming in, would he evoke the dear -presence. He would pass through the streets where so often his dead -have passed with him. The place of that friend's sepulture, is to him -the place of all places where he would oftenest go. He plants there -his favorite flowers, and woos for them the balmiest air and warmest -sunshine. He reads over the name and date of birth and burial, each -time as if they were not already indelibly engraven on his memory; and -still, though months and years may have passed in this way, whenever -he catches himself saying, "It was about the time when our John," or -"our Mary, died," he will still shiver, as when the first time he had -occasion to couple death with that household name. - -Again: One person on the death of a friend, is punctiliously -solicitous that no etiquette of mourning habiliments should be -disregarded, to the remotest fraction of an inch as to quantity; and -that the quality and fashioning of the same should be according to the -strictest rules laid down by custom on such occasions; considering all -variation from it, although demanded by health or comfort, as a -disrespect to the dead. - -Another is scarcely conscious that he wears these outward tokens; or, -if so, knows little and cares less whether all the minutiæ of depth, -width and blackness is punctiliously followed. Attention to these -details seems to him a mockery, from which he turns impatiently away. -The whole world seems to him already draped in sable; what matters, -then, this intrusive pettiness? And that any one should measure the -depth of his loss by the width of a hem or a veil, or the fashion of a -hat, or the material of a garment, seems to him too monstrous an -absurdity for credence. And when he hears the common expression that -such a person is "in _half mourning_" it is so utterly repulsive to -him, that he almost feels that he should honor the dead more by a -total breach of the custom, than by its observance. - -In truth, it may be a question whether a genuine grief can exist in -the artificial atmosphere where these slavish mourning etiquettes are -cultivated. The devil himself probably knew this; and contrived this -ingenious way to turn the mass of mankind aside from sober reflection -at a time when the march of life stands still. - -When the bolt falls, which sooner or later strikes every man's house, -how philosophically lookers-on reason about it. How practically -unconscious are they, while gazing at the blood-besprinkled door-post -of a neighbor, that the advancing finger of Destiny is already pointed -at their own, as they plan for happy years to come the future of -husband, wife, child, brother and sister, as if _for them_ there was -immunity from dissolution and disruption. No acceleration of pulse, no -heart-quiver, when the funeral train passes by, or the sad face looks -out from its frame of sable; for no sweet bright face is missing from -_their_ little band. No pained ear listens at _their_ fireside for the -light footfall that will never come. No street is avoided in _their_ -daily walks, which agonizingly suggests a floating form once watched -and waited for there. Nor may the passing stranger, whose step and -voice stir the troubled fountain of your tears, know by what personal -magnetism he has evoked your dead, and chained you to linger, and -look, and feed your excited fancy, till the impulse to throw yourself -on that strange heart and weep, almost sweeps away cold propriety. - -_Ah! the difference, whether the hearse stands before one's own door, -or one's neighbor's._ And yet, how else could we all live on, playing -at jack-straws, as we do, day after day, while a momentous future -little by little unfolds itself? How else would one have courage to go -on planting what another hand than his shall surely reap; and what -pleasure would there be beneath the sun, if one sat crouching, and -listening for the step of the executioner, or clasping wild arms of -protection round the dear ones. Merciful indeed is it, that we can -travel on in to-day's sunshine, trusting to our Guide to shelter us, -when the storm shall gather and break over our heads. - - - - -_TO YOUNG GIRLS._ - - -I wonder how many girls tell their mothers everything? _Not_ those -"young ladies" who, going to and from school, smile, bow, and exchange -notes and cartes de visite with young men, who are perfect strangers -to them. I grant this may all be done thoughtlessly and innocently, -for "fun," and without any wrong intention; but surely--surely--such -young girls should be told that not in this spirit will it be -received; and that to hold themselves in so cheap estimation, is -certainly to invite insult, how disguised soever it may be in the form -of compliment and flattery. Imagine a knot of young men making fun of -you and your "picture;" speaking of you in a way that would make your -cheeks burn with shame, could you hear it. All this, most credulous -and romantic young ladies, they will do, although they gaze at your -fresh young face admiringly, and send or give you charming verses and -bouquets. No matter what "other girls do;" don't _you_ do it. No -matter how "ridiculous" it is that you have "never had an offer, -although you were fifteen last spring;" there is time enough, and to -spare, yet. Girls who, falling in love, insist on getting married when -they are babies, will find that studying after marriage is tedious -work. A premature, faded, vacant old age!--you surely cannot desire -_that_. When is your mind to be informed, or to grow, if you place it -in a hot-house, that only the flower of Love be forced into early -bloom, to the dwarfing of every other faculty? And even should such a -foolish school flirtation end in early marriage, how long, think you, -before your husband would weary of a wife who only knew enough to talk -about dress or dancing? How painful for you to be silent, through -ignorance, should you chance to have intelligent guests at your house. -How painful, when your only charm, youth and its prettiness, has -faded, to find your husband gradually losing sight of you, as his mind -expanded, and yours grew still narrower, with the inevitable cares, -that only the _brain_ of a sensible woman can keep from overwhelming -her. How painful, as time passes on, and your children grow up about -you, to hear them talk intelligently on subjects of which you scarcely -know the names. - -And this, remember, is taking the most _favorable_ view of the result -of school-girl flirtations. They _may_ end far more disastrously, as -many a foolish, wretched young girl could tell you. - -But let us not talk of this. Your yearning for some one to love you, -and you only, is natural and right; it is a great need of every -woman's heart. But there is a time for everything; and it is wisdom -before seeking this to wait. Your choice at fifteen would be very -different from your choice at twenty. A man who would quite suit you -then, would only disgust and weary you when you grew older. Till -school-days are over, therefore, you can well afford to let love rest. -Don't let the bloom and freshness of your heart be brushed off in -silly flirtations. Study all you can and keep your health. Render -yourself _truly_ intelligent. And, above all, tell your mother -everything. "Fun" in _your_ dictionary would sometimes be -_indiscretion_ in hers. It will do you no harm to look and see. Never -be ashamed to tell her, who should be your best friend and confidant, -all you think and feel. She was once a girl herself; she had _her_ -dreams, and can understand it. Not having been always as wise as she -is now, she can spare you many a pang of humiliation and regret if you -will profit by her advice. - -It is very sad that so many young girls will tell every person before -"mother," that which is most important she should know. It is very sad -that indifferent persons should know more about her own fair young -daughter than she herself. Don't you think so? You find it quite easy -to tell your mother that you want a new dress, or hat, or shawl; but -you would be quite ashamed to say--Mother, I wish I had a lover. Why -not? It is nothing at all to be ashamed of. It is a perfectly natural -wish; and your mother was given you to tell you just that, and a great -many other things, which would convince you, if you would listen to -her, that it was best for you not to hurry into life's cares and -responsibilities till your soul and body were fitted to carry you -patiently, and hopefully through them. - - * * * * * - -Another thing I want to speak to you about: It is very common, at the -present day, for young ladies to accept presents from gentlemen not -related to them, or likely to become so--in fact, mere acquaintances. -It was not so in _my_ day; and with no partiality for old customs, -merely because they _are_ old customs, _I_ confess an admiration for -that feminine delicacy which shrinks from accepting favors from chance -acquaintances of the day or hour. That all young men have not the true -feelings of gentlemen, our young ladies need not be told; nor, that -those most lavish with their presents, are often as little able to -afford it, as they are able to _refrain from boasting that these -presents have been accepted when among their young male companions_. -The cheek of many an innocent but unguarded young girl, would crimson -with mortification could she hear the remarks often made on this -subject among young men. _Don't do it, girls_; don't accept any -presents from a gentleman unless he is an accepted suitor, a relative, -or some old, well-known friend of the family, who has proved his claim -to be good for such a proof of your faith in him. This may be -"old-fashioned" advice, and yet--you may live to thank me for it. - - * * * * * - -There is one point, my dears, upon which I pine for information. Many -an anxious hour have I pondered on it. I never studied medicine, else -I might not now be in the dark. I find no precedent for it in young -people of past ages. It was not so with me, or any of my young female -companions, most of whom, by the way, were boys. I cannot conjecture -what sort of parents, the curiously-constituted young person to whom I -refer, must have had. What time she cut her first tooth, or whether -she cut it at all. Not to harass you with farther conjecture, I will -come at once to the point. I allude to "_the fair young creature of -some seventeen summers_," of whom we so often read. In mercy tell -me,--does she--like the bear--suck her claws in some dark retreat in -winter; or, having "no winter in her year," is her lamp of life -suddenly and mercilessly blown out, not to be rekindled till it comes -time for another of her "_summers_." I beg the philanthropist--I -entreat the humanitarian, to make some inquiry into the circumstances -of this abridged young creature, so long defrauded by unprincipled -story and novel writers, of her inalienable woman's rights to _winter_ -in our midst. - - * * * * * - -Do you ever go home pondering over chance conversation heard in the -street? "Don't you wish something would happen?" I heard a young girl -say, yawning to her companion, as I passed her. My dear, thought I, -rather bless Providence _when nothing happens_. However, she had many -years yet to see, before she could take that adult view of things; the -bread and butter period was beginning to get insipid, that was all; -that passed, she fancied all would be blue sky and roses beyond. What -"happens" to one's neighbor is too apt to be no concern of ours, 'tis -true; but one must walk with closed eyes through the streets of a -great city not to see constant "happenings." Yonder poor woman, -followed by a shouting crew of boys, and struggling in the grasp of a -policeman, her lips white with fear, what can have happened to _her_? -And so surely as that knot of crape flutters from yonder door, there -has "happened" in, over that threshold, a strange, unbidden guest, who -would take no denial. And there is a true woman, her eyes bent -earthward with unmerited shame, guiding home the staggering steps of -him on whom _she_ should have leaned. And farther on, a house-painter -sits swinging aloft, brush in hand, humming daily at his work; a -treacherous step, and he lies a mangled heap upon the pavement. Ah, -who has the courage to tell the busy little wife at home what has -"happened" to him? And yonder is a tearful mother kissing her soldier -lad; you and she both know what has and may "happen" there, and as you -look, your heart joins hers in that sorrowful blessing. And at yonder -pier they are busy over a "body." That is all they know of him whose -blue lips keep their own secret well. And peering through the bars of -that locked cart, jolting over the stones, are eyes that looked -innocently into the faces of fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, -before this "happened." And so, thinking of all these things as I -listened to that young girl, I said, Blessed is that day, when -_nothing_ "happens." - - * * * * * - -Often I get letters from young girls who are perfect strangers to me. -The other day, one wrote me saying, "Fanny, suppose you give us a -chapter on working all one's life, just for the sake of working; -working all the time, just to keep soul and body together; without one -friend; one sympathizing word;--honest hard work, I mean, and no -thanks." This was my reply to her: perhaps some of you may feel like -asking the same question, so you can consider it written also to you. - -Well, my dear child, there are thousands who are compelled to do this, -as there are thousands more who will do it, in time to come. This view -of the case may not make you more contented with your lot, but I think -our sufferings are sometimes intensified by imagining that nobody in -the world ever had to endure the _peculiar_ hardships which afflict -our individual selves. You must remember that to this initiatory -school of self-conquest the world owes many of its best and most -gifted children. To learn to wait, to be willing to endure, is indeed -the hardest of all earthly lessons. To wait athirst for sympathy; to -wait for the tardy lifting of the iron hand of toil, which seems -crushing out everything but the grinding care for daily bread _is_ -hard. I say _seems_ crushing, for often it is _only_ seeming. The seed -that _seems_ buried is only for a time hidden; some day when we least -expect it, it gives to our gladdened sight verdure, blossom and -fruitage. Persistent discontent is the rust of the soul. They have -half won the battle who can work while they wait. Having measured -one's capacities; having satisfied oneself that at present nothing -better can be achieved; it is wise to do cheerfully with our might -what our hands find to do, though with listening ear for the day of -future deliverance. And it will surely come to such, though not, -perhaps, just in the manner, or at the moment, their shortsightedness -had marked out. A bird that ceaselessly beats its delicate wings -against the bars of its cage must soon lie helpless. Better to nibble -and sing, keeping a bright eye for a chance opening of the door out -into the green fields and blue sky beyond. But this achieved, remember -that the sky will not always be blue, nor the wind gentle; then, when -the storm comes, comes again a struggle to get above the clouds, into -another atmosphere. - -Like the child who essays to walk--many a fall, many a bump, many a -disappointment in grasping far-off objects that seemed near, or -finding their shining but dimness when gained, must be ours; till, -like it, we come, gladly, at last, weary with effort, to rest -peacefully on the bosom of Love. So--when to Him who appointeth our -lot, we can say trustingly, "Do what seemeth good in Thy sight;"--so, -when the mad beating of our wings against the bars of a present -necessity shall cease, and the lesson of self-conquest shall be -achieved, then--is freedom and victory in sight! - - - - -_A LITTLE TALK WITH "THE OTHER SEX."_ - - -Tom Jones would like to be married. Tom does not quite relish the idea -of a connubial idiot; and yet, for many reasons unnecessary to state, -he does not desire a wife who knows much. He would like one who will -be always on tiptoe to await his coming, and yet be perfectly -satisfied, and good-humored, if after all her preparations, culinary -and otherwise, he may conclude at all times, or at any time, to prefer -other society to hers. He also desires his wife to be possessed of -principle enough for both, because in his own case, principle would -interfere with many of his little arrangements. He would like her -always to be very nicely dressed, although his own boots and coats are -innocent of a brush from year's end to year's end. He wishes her to -speak low, and not speak much; because he has a great deal to say -himself, and when he has roared it out, like the liberal, great Dr. -Johnson, "he wishes the subject ended!" Tom wishes his wife possessed -of military instincts, so that she may discipline her household; after -that is done, he wishes to turn the key on these military instincts, -lest they might be of use in some emergency necessary to her personal -happiness. Tom wants a wife who loves more than she reasons, because -he intends himself to pursue quite a contrary policy. Tom would like a -wife who adjusts everything with a smile; although he may use his -boots for other purposes than that of locomotion. She must have a -pretty face, an easy temper, and an intellect the size of which would -allow him to consider his own colossal. Any young lady very weak in -the head, and strong in the nerves, and quite destitute of any -disgusting little selfishnesses, may consider herself eligible, -provided she has money; none others need apply. - - * * * * * - -Since the world began, there probably never was a marriage of which -somebody did not "disapprove." That somebody, and everybody, including -relatives, have a perfect right to an opinion on such a subject, -nobody doubts. But how far you prove your greater love for "Tom," by -whispering round "confidentially" your foreordained determination not -to believe that "that woman" can ever make him happy, is a question. -Poor fellow! and _she_ of all people in the world; the very last woman -_you_ would have selected; which of course is sure to get to Tom's -wife's ears, and produce a fine foundation for belief in the reality -of your regard for him, and your good nature generally. - -Now as there were seldom, or never, two parties bound together in -_any_ relation of life, whether as business partners, pastor and -people, teacher and pupil, master and subordinate, mistress and maid, -who always moved along with perfect unanimity, it is hardly to be -expected that the marriage of "Tom" and his wife will effect a total -revolution for the better in human nature, any more than did your own -marriage. Perhaps even Tom and his wife, though loving each other very -much, may have a difference of opinion on some subject; but what is -that to you? They don't need your guardianship or supervision in the -matter. It is very curious that those persons who clamor most loudly -when "Tom" marries without their consent and approbation, are, ten to -one, those who have themselves married clandestinely, or otherwise -offended against the rigid rule which they would apply in his -particular case. - -Broad philanthropists! Tom can surely be happy in no way but theirs. -They love him so much better than "that woman" possibly can. Poor -"Tom!" He looked so poorly last time they saw him. _Her_ fault, of -course. They knew it would be just so. Didn't they say so from the -first? Poor Tom! such a sacrifice! It is unaccountable how he can like -her. For the matter of that, they never _will_ believe he does, (and -they might add, he shan't if we can help it.) And so, when they see -him, they inquire with a churchyard air, "Is he well?" "Is anything -the matter?" "Ah, you needn't tell us; _we_ know how it is; poor -Tom--we know you _try_ to bear up under it. Come and see _us_. We will -love you. You never will find _us_ changed." - -No. That's the worst of it! No hope of their changing. Bless their -souls! How lucky "Tom" has somebody to tell him what a "sacrifice he -has made," or he never would find it out! Well, it is astonishing that -such people don't see that this is the last way to convince any person -with common sense, that they are better qualified to be installed -guardians of "Tom's" happiness than "_that woman_." - - * * * * * - -It is very strange that men, as a general thing, should be proud of -that, of which they should be ashamed, and ashamed of that, which -ennobles them. Now, to my eye, a man never looks so grand, as when he -bends his ear patiently and lovingly, to the lisping of a little -child. I admire that man whom I see with a baby in his arms. I -delight, on Sunday, when the nurses are set free, to see the fathers -leading out their little ones in their best attire, and setting them -right end up, about fifty times a minute. It is as good a means of -grace as I am acquainted with. Now that a man should feel ashamed to -be seen doing this, or think it necessary to apologize, even -jocularly, when he meets a male friend, is to me one of the -unaccountable things. It seems to me every way such a lovely, and -good, and proper action in a father, that I can't help thinking that -he who would feel otherwise, is of so coarse and ignoble a nature, as -to be quite unworthy of respect. How many times I have turned to look -at the clumsy smoothing of a child's dress, or settling of its hat, -or bonnet, by the unpractised fingers of a proud father. And the -clumsier he was about it, the better I have loved him for the pains he -took. It is very beautiful to me, this self-abnegation, which creeps -so gradually over a young father. He is himself so unconscious that -he, who had for many years thought first and only of his own selfish -ease and wants, is forgetting himself entirely whenever that little -creature, with _his_ eyes and _its mother's lips_, reaches out coaxing -hands to go here or there, or to look at this or that pretty object. -Ah, what but this heavenly love, could bridge over the anxious days -and nights, of care and sickness, that these twain of one flesh are -called to bear? _My_ boy! _My_ girl! There it is! _Mine!_ Something to -live for--something to work for--_something to come home to_; and that -last is the summing up of the whole matter. "Now let us have a good -love," said a little three-year older, as she clasped her chubby arms -about her father's neck when he came in at night "Now let us have a -good love." Do you suppose that man walked with slow and laggard steps -from his store toward that bright face that had been peeping for an -hour from the nursery window to watch his coming? Do you suppose when -he got on all fours to "play elephant" with the child, that it even -crossed his mind that he had worked very hard all that day, or that he -was not at that minute "looking dignified?" Did he wish he had a -"club" where he could get away from home evenings, or was that "_good -love_" of the little creature on his back, with the laughing eyes and -the pearly teeth, and the warm clasp about his neck, which she was -squeezing to suffocation, sweeter and better than anything that this -world could give? - -_Something to come home to!_ That is what saves a man. Somebody there -to grieve if he is not true to himself. Somebody there to be sorry if -he is troubled or sick. Somebody there, with fingers like sunbeams, -gliding and brightening whatever they touch; and all for him. I look -at the business men of New York, at nightfall, coming swarming "up -town" from their stores and counting-rooms; and when I see them, as I -often do, stop and buy one of those tiny bouquets as they go, I smile -to myself; for although it is a little attention toward a wife, I know -how happy that rose with its two geranium leaves, and its sprig of -mignonette will make her. He thought of _her_ coming home! Foolish, do -you call it? Such folly makes all the difference between stepping off, -scarcely conscious of the cares a woman carries, or staggering wearily -along till she faints disheartened under their burthen. _Something to -go home to!_ That man felt it, and by ever so slight a token wished to -recognize it. God bless him, I say, and all like him, who do not take -home-comforts as stereotyped matters of course, and God bless the -family estate; I can't see that anything better has been devised by -the wiseacres who have experimented on the Almighty's plans. "There -comes _my_ father!" exclaims Johnny, bounding from out a group of -"fellows" with whom he was playing ball; and sliding his little soiled -fist in his, they go up the steps and into the house together; and -again God bless them! I say there's one man who is all right at least. -That boy has got him, safer than Fort Lafeyette. - - * * * * * - -If there is an experiment which is worse than any other for a young -married couple to make, we believe it to be that of trying to make a -home in a hotel. What possible chance has a young wife there to -acquire domestic habits? To do anything, in short, but dress half a -dozen times a day, and sit in the public parlor, or her own, to gossip -with idle women or bandy compliments with idle men. And how--I ask any -thinking person--can a young married woman be fitted for quiet -home-cares and duties, after a year or two of such idleness and -vacuity; Let no young husband expect any favorable result from such an -experiment. Better a house with only _one_ room, in a quiet place by -yourselves--than such a hollow, shallow life as this. Many a husband -has dated from it the loss of all quiet, home happiness; lucky for -him, if no more. _Go to housekeeping_; unambitiously if need be--as -the old folks did before you. But have a place sacred to -yourselves--have a place which your children in after years will love -to think of as home. Do it for their sakes if not for your own. No -sight is sadder than that of a weary little one--wandering up and -down the entries and halls of a large hotel, peeping into parlors, -offices and bar-rooms--listening to what childhood should never hear, -and with no alternative but the small, dreary nursery, whose -only-window prospect, nine times in ten, is a stack of brick chimneys -or a back-shed full of flapping clothes hung out to dry. A father -should hesitate long before he dooms a young child to such a "home" as -this. - - * * * * * - -As to women, men are apt to think, and fall into innumerable blunders -by so thinking, that because they know one woman they know all; when, -in fact, each woman is as much of a study as if he had never seen one -of the sex. Bulwer doubts whether man _ever_ thoroughly understood -woman. Truly, how should he? when woman does not understand herself; -nor can tell why she lives on patiently, hopefully, year after year, -with a brute, whose favorite pastime consists in attempts to break her -neck every time things go wrong with him, indoors or out. That the -better educated husband murders with sharp words instead of sharp -blows, makes it none the less murder. The only difference is in the -duration of the misery, one being as deadly as the other. Who cares to -understand how a woman with bruised heart and flesh can throw over -both the charitable mantle that, "he wasn't himself;" and beg off the -offender from merited punishment, public or private. Let us rather -seek to understand how man, who should be so strong, should fall so -immeasurably below his "weaker" self, in the difficult lesson of -self-control and forgiveness of injuries. - - * * * * * - -Some men profess to dislike coquetry; if so, why do they encourage it? -Why do they often leave a sensible, well-informed woman to play -"wall-flower," while they talk nonsense to some brainless doll, who -can only ogle, sigh and simper? It appears to us that men are to blame -for most of the faults of women. We always regret to hear a man who -has matrimonial views say of a girl, she don't know much, but she is -amiable, has a pretty face, and after all, if I need society, it is -easy enough to find it elsewhere. A man has no right to marry a woman -with intentions so widely diverse from those he professes to -entertain, when he vows to be a husband; he is responsibly blameworthy -for the consequences that result from such an act; besides, it is a -very mistaken notion some men seem to have, that a fool is easily -managed; there is no description of animal so difficult to govern; -what they lack in brains they are sure to make up in obstinacy, or a -low kind of cunning. Then a pretty face cannot last forever, and the -old age of a brainless beauty, we shudder to contemplate, even at a -distance. Women aim to be what men oftenest like to see them; you may, -therefore, easily gauge the masculine standard by the majority of -women one daily meets. Heaven pity the exceptions! they must find -_their_ mates in another world than this. - - * * * * * - -One of the meanest things a young man can do, and it is not at all of -uncommon occurrence, is to monopolize the time, and attention, of a -young girl for a year, or more, without any definite object, and to -the exclusion of other gentlemen, who, supposing him to have -matrimonial intentions, absent themselves from her society. This -selfish "dog-in-the-manger" way of proceeding should be -discountenanced and forbidden, by all parents and guardians. - -It prevents the reception of eligible offers of marriage, and fastens -upon the young lady, when the acquaintance is finally dissolved, the -unenviable and _unmerited_ appellation of "flirt." Young man, let all -your dealings with women, be frank, honest and noble. That many whose -education and position in life are culpably criminal on these points, -is no excuse for your short-comings. It adds a blacker dye to your -meanness, that woman is often wronged through her holiest feelings. -One rule is always safe: _Treat every woman you meet, as you would -wish another man to treat your innocent, confiding sister._ - - * * * * * - -After all, how any young fellow can have the face to walk into your -family, and deliberately ask for one of your daughters, astonishes -me. That it is done every day, does not lessen my amazement at the -sublime impudence of the thing. There you have been, sixteen, or -seventeen, or eighteen years of her life, combing her hair, and -washing her face for----_him_. It is lucky the thought never strikes -you while you are doing it, that this is to be the end of it all. What -if you _were_ married yourself? that is no reason why she should be -bewitched away into a separate establishment, just as you begin to -lean upon her, and be proud of her; or, at least, it stands to reason, -that after you have worried her through the measles, and chicken-pox, -and scarlet-fever, and whooping-cough, and had her properly baptized -and vaccinated, this young man might give you a short breathing-spell -before she goes. - -_He_ seems to be of a different opinion; _he_ not only insists upon -taking her, but upon taking her immediately. He talks well about -it--very well; you have no objection to him, not the least in the -world except that. When the world is full of girls, why couldn't he -have fixed his eye on the daughter of somebody else? There are some -parents who are glad to be rid of their daughters. Blue eyes are as -plenty as blueberries; why need it be this particular pair? Isn't she -happy enough as she is? Don't she have meat and bread and clothes -enough, to say nothing of love? What is the use of leaving a certainty -for an uncertainty, when that certainty is a mother, and you can never -have but one? You put all these questions to her, and she has the -sauciness to ask, if that is the way you reasoned, when her father -came for you. You disdain to answer, of course; it is a mean dodging -of the question. But she gets round you for all that, and so does he -too, though you try your best not to like him; and with a--"well, if I -must, I must," you just order her wedding-clothes, muttering to -yourself the while,--"dear--dear--what sort of a fist will that child -make at the head of a house? how will she ever know what to do in -this, that, or the other emergency"--she who is calling on "mother" -fifty times a day to settle every trifling question? What folly for -her to set up house for herself! How many mothers have had these -foreboding thoughts over a daughter's wedding-clothes; and yet that -daughter has met life, and its unexpected reverses, with a heroism and -courage as undaunted as if every girlish tear had not been kissed away -by lips, that alas! may be dust, when this baptism of womanhood comes -upon her. - - * * * * * - -In my opinion, the "coming" woman's Alpha and Omega will not be -matrimony. She will not of necessity sour into a pink-nosed old maid, -or throw herself at any rickety old shell of humanity, whose clothes -are as much out of repair as his morals. No, the future man will have -to "step lively;" this wife is not to be had for the whistling. He -will have a long canter round the pasture for her, and then she will -leap the fence and leave him limping on the ground. Thick-soled boots -and skating are coming in, and "nerves," novels and sentiment (by -consequence) are going out. The coming woman, as I see her, is not to -throw aside her needle; neither is she to sit embroidering worsted -dogs and cats, or singing doubtful love ditties, and rolling up her -eyes to "the chaste moon." - -Heaven forbid she should stamp round with a cigar in her mouth, -elbowing her neighbors, and puffing smoke in their faces; or stand on -the free-love platform, _public or private_--_call it by what specious -name you will_--wooing men who, low as they may have sunk in their own -self-respect, would die before they would introduce her to the -unsullied sister who shared their cradle. - -Heaven forbid the coming woman should not have warm blood in her -veins, quick to rush to her cheek, or tingle at her fingers' ends when -her heart is astir. No, the coming woman shall be no cold, angular, -flat-chested, narrow-shouldered, sharp-visaged Betsey, but she shall -be a bright-eyed, full-chested, broad-shouldered, large-souled, -intellectual being; able to walk, able to eat, able to fulfill her -maternal destiny, and able--if it so please God--to go to her grave -happy, self-poised and serene, though unwedded. - - * * * * * - -We often think of the solitariness and isolation of the young man--a -stranger in a crowded city; suddenly cut adrift, perhaps from loving -home influences--finding an inexorable necessity in his nature for -sympathy and companionship--returning at night, when his day's toil is -done, to his dreary, cell-like room, or, if he go out, solicited by -myriad treacherous voices to unlearn the holy lessons taught at his -mother's knee--solicited to show his "manliness" by drinking with -every acquaintance that chance or the devil may send. That youth must -needs be strongly intrenched in the _true_ idea of "manliness" not to -waver and turn aside from his own independent course of well-doing. -Alas! that to so many the fear of ridicule, or dread of "oddity," -should have power to draw a veil over the swift and sure downfall of -the drunkard or profligate. Alas! that the little word _No_ should be -so impossible of articulation--in a circle, too, whose sneering -condemnation of it were not worth a thought, no matter how brilliantly -the jest or the song may issue from lips foul with the sophistry of -"free-love;" than which _freedom_ nothing is more shackled with -disgust and pain; for try as we will, God's image, though marred, -shall never be wholly effaced: enough shall be left in every man's and -woman's soul to protest against such desecration, though it voice -itself, as it often does, in bitter denunciation of what the soul -knows to be its only true happiness. The holy stars make no record of -the gasping sigh, brief but intense, that their purity has evoked. -The little bird trills out its matins, and vespers, all unconscious -that their sweetness forces the unwelcome tear from some world-sated -eye. Bless God, these moments will and do come to the most -reckless--these swift heralds of our immortality--to be silenced never -in this world; if disregarded, to be mourned over forever in the next; -for the fiercest theologian's idea of "hell" can never, it seems to -me, go beyond the consciousness of god-like powers wasted and -debased--noble opportunities of benefiting our race defiling past the -memory in mournful procession, and the sorrowing soul nerveless, -powerless to bid them stay. - -To every young man entering the lists against the vices of a crowded -city, at such fearful odds, we would say: cultivate an acquaintance, -as soon as possible, with some family, or families, whose healthful -influence may be your talisman against evil associations, whose good -opinion may give an impetus to your self-respect, and whose cheerful -fireside may outshine the ignis-fatuus lights which dazzle but to -mislead. To those who see difficulties or impossibilities in this, we -would suggest the cultivation of a taste for reading, which surely may -be compassed in a city, even by a young person of slender means. Good -books are safe, pleasant and economical company. The time spent with -them is an investment which will not fail to yield a satisfying -interest for all future time. Let those who will--and their name, we -fear, is legion--wreck health and reputation, for the lack of courage -or desire to be true to their better feelings; let those who will, -cover their inclination to do evil with the transparent excuse "that -it is well to see life in all its phases." As well might a perfectly -healthy person _from mere curiosity_ breathe the tainted air of every -pest-house in the country. No thanks are due to his fool-hardy -temerity if he escape; "served him right!" would be the unanimous -verdict of common sense if he should not. - -To him who, eschewing such unwisdom, chooses to breathe a healthful, -moral atmosphere, it may be a reflection worth having, that he will -bring to his future home a constitution and principles as sound as -those he so properly requires in the wife of his choice and the mother -of his children; and I confess myself unable to see why this should be -more necessary in the case of one parent than in that of the other. -_Such men, and such only, have a call to be husbands._ - - - - -_A CHAPTER ON MEN._ - - -What constitutes a handsome man? Well--there must be enough of him; -or, failing in that, but, come to think of it, he _mustn't_ fail in -that, because there can be no beauty without health, or at least, -according to my way of thinking. In the second place, he must have a -beard; whiskers--as the gods please, but a beard I insist upon, else -one might as well look at a girl. Let his voice have a dash of -Niagara, with the music of a baby's laugh in it. Let his smile be like -the breaking forth of the sunshine on a spring morning. As to his -figure, it should be strong enough to contend with a man, and slight -enough to tremble in the presence of the woman he loves. Of course, if -he is a well made man, it follows that he must be graceful, on the -principle that perfect machinery always moves harmoniously; therefore -you and himself and the milk pitcher, are safe elbow neighbors at the -tea-table. _This_ style of handsome man would no more think of -carrying a cane, than he would use a parasol to keep the sun out of -his eyes. He can wear gloves, or warm his hands in his breast pockets, -as he pleases. He can even commit the suicidal-beauty-act of turning -his outside coat-collar up over his ears of a stormy day, with -perfect impunity;--_the tailor didn't make him_, and as to his hatter, -if he depended on this handsome man's patronage of the "latest spring -style," I fear he would die of hope deferred; and yet--by Apollo! what -a bow he makes, and what an expressive adieu he can wave with his -head! For all this he is not conceited--for he hath _brains_. - -But your conventional "handsome man," of the -barber's-window-wax-figure-head-pattern; with a pet lock in the middle -of his forehead, an apple-sized head, and a raspberry moustache with -six hairs in it; a pink spot in its cheek, and a little dot of a -"goatee" on its cunning little chin; with pretty blinking little studs -in its shirt bosom, and a neck-tie that looks as if he would faint -were it tumbled, I'd as lief look at a poodle. I always feel a desire -to nip it up with a pair of sugar-tongs, drop it gently into a bowl of -cream, and strew pink rose-leaves over its little remains. - -After all, when _soul_ magnetizes _soul_, the question of beauty is a -dead letter. _Whom one loves is always handsome_, the world's -arbitrary rules notwithstanding; therefore when you say "what _can_ -the handsome Mr. Smith see to admire in that stick of a Miss Jones?" -or, "what _can_ the pretty Miss T. see to like in that homely Mr. -Johns?" you simply talk nonsense--as you generally do, on such -subjects. Still the parson gets his fees, and the census goes on all -the same. - -I wonder why people decry a masculine blush: I don't know. I -immediately love the man who blushes. I am sure that he is -unhackneyed; that he has not a set of meaningless, cut and dried -compliments on hand, for every woman he meets; that he has not learned -to sniff at sacred things, or prate transcendentally about -"affinities" or any other corruption under a new-fangled name. I know -that his love will be worth a pure woman's having; that he will not be -ashamed of liking home, or his baby, or laughed out of staying in it -in preference to any other place. I know that when he stops at a -hotel, his _first_ business will not be to hold a private conference -with the cook, to tell him how he likes an omelette made. I know that -in his conversation he will not pride himself upon the small fopperies -of talk, in the way of pronunciation and newly coined words, to show -how well he is posted up in dictionary matters. I know that he will -not be closeted two thirds of his time with his tailor; or think it -fine to be continually quoting some dead-and-gone book, known only to -some resurrectionist of scarce authors. I know he will not sit in -grimstarched statuesqueness in a car, when a woman old enough to be -his mother, is standing wearily in front of him, swaying to and fro -with the motion of the vehicle. In short, I know that he is not a -petrifaction; that there's human nature in him, _and plenty of it_; -that he is not like an animal under an exhausted receiver, having -form only--in whom there is no spring, nor elasticity, nor breath of -life. - -A fool, hey? No, sir--not necessarily a fool neither. _The fool is he -who, not yet at life's meridian, has exhausted it and himself_; who -thinks every man "green" who has not taken his diploma in wickedness. -For whom existence is as weary as a thrice-told tale. Who has crowded -four-score years into twenty, or less; and has nothing left for it but -to sneer at the healthy, simple, pure, fresh joys which may never come -again to his vitiated palate. - -Very likely you have met him: this _blasé_ man, who, though yet at -life's meridian, has squeezed life as dry as an orange. Who has seen -everything, heard everything, ate everything, drank everything, -traveled everywhere, but into his own heart, to see its utter -selfishness. Who is willing, upon the whole, to tolerate his -fellow-creatures, provided they don't speak to him when he wants to be -silent, or annoy him by peculiarities of dress, manner and -conversation. Who remains immovably grave when everybody else laughs, -and smiles when everybody else looks grave; who lifts his eyebrows and -shrugs his shoulders dissentingly, when people who have not like him -"been abroad," applaud. Who talks knowingly and mystically of "art," -and thinks it fine to showerbath everybody's enthusiasm with -"to-l-e-r-a-b-l-e." Who goes to church occasionally, but owing to the -prevalence of badly-fitting coats and vests in the assembly, is unable -to attend to the service; who don't care much what a man's creed is, -provided he only takes it mild. He likes to see a woman plump and -well-made, but abhors the idea of her eating; likes to see her rosy, -but can't abide an india-rubber on her foot, even in the most -consumptive-breeding weather; thinks it would be well were she -domestic when he considers his tea and coffee, but don't believe in -aprons and calico. Thinks she should be religious, because it would be -a check-rein upon her tongue when his liver is out of order; and keep -her true to him when he leaves her with all her yearning affections, -to take care of herself. - -And so our _blasé_ man yawns away existence, everything outward and -inward tending only to the great central I, when life might be _so_ -glorious, _so_ bright, would he only recognize the existence of -others. For how much is that education valuable, the result of which -is only this? For how much that refinement which lifts a man so high -in the clouds, that no cry of humanity, be it ever so sharp and -piercing, can reach him? I turn away from his face, on which ennui and -selfishness have ploughed such furrows of discontent, to the laborer -in his red flannel shirt-sleeves, who, returning at sunset, -dinner-pail in hand, has well earned the right to clasp in his arms -the little child who runs to meet him. He may be illiterate, he may be -uneducated, but he is a _man_; and by that beautiful retributive law -of our being, by which the most useful and unselfish shall be the -healthiest, and happiest, he has his reward. - - - - -_LITERARY PEOPLE._ - - -The verdant have an idea, that literary people are always under the -influence of "the divine afflatus;" but, like the curious female who -gazed through the bars of the doomed man's cell to gloat over his -situation, and was told by her victim, that, although the gallows was -impending, "he couldn't cry all the time," they are doomed to -disappointment. - -When a literary person's exhaustive work is over, the last thing he -wishes to do is to _talk book_. The last person he wishes to meet is -another unfortunate, who also has been cudgelling his brains for -ideas. The person whom he wishes to see most, if, indeed, he desire to -see anybody, is one who will stir up his mentality least. The -laurel-wreath, which the verdant suppose he settles carefully and -becomingly on his head, before the looking-glass, ere he goes forth, -he would be glad to toss into the first ash-barrel; and, so far from -desiring to regulate his personal appearance, according to the -programme marked out by the sentimental, he feels only an insane -desire to be let severely alone, and "let _Natur_ caper," if, indeed, -she has not forgotten how. - -He wants--this wise man--to hear some merry little child sing: - - "Hickory, dickory, dock, - The mouse ran up the clock; - The clock struck one, - And down he ran: - Hickory, dickory, dock." - -Or he wants to lean over a fence and see the turnips grow. It rests -him to think that the fat, lazy pigs never think, but lie winking -their pink eyes forever at the sun. In short, as I told you, he wants -just the antipodes of himself. - -The sentimental will perceive, from this, the small chance they stand -for edification, or amusement, from "literary people" when off duty. -Blithe ladies will see, how very jolly it must be to marry a poet or -an author. But what shall we say of "the situation" when a literary -man and a literary woman are yoked? When the world abroad demands the -best of each, and nothing is left for home consumption? When, instead -of writing sonnets to each other, and looking at the chaste moon in -their leisure moments, as the sentimental have arranged it, they are -too used up to do anything but gape? When a change of programme would -not only be a blessing, but absolutely necessary, to stave off a -Coroner's Inquest? When the sight of a book to either, is like water -to a mad dog: particularly the sight of their own books, which -represent such an amount of headache, and bother, and sleepless -nights, to enable a critic to notice _only_ a printer's mistake in a -date, which is generally set down to the author's "want of knowledge -of his subject?" When they wonder, in the rasped state of their -nerves, what life is worth, if it is to be forever pitched up to that -key? When they can't open their mouths on any subject, without -perversely saying everything they _don't_ mean, and nothing that they -_do_? - -Ah! then is the time for them to catch sight of that athlete--the -day-laborer, in red flannel shirt-sleeves, whistling along home with -his tools. Do you hear? _Tools!_ Happy man! He won't have to -manufacture _his_ tools before he begins to-morrow's work. He can -pound away all day, and sing the while, and no organ-grinder has power -to drive him mad. - - * * * * * - -It is a difficult thing for literary people, as well as others, to -tell the truth sometimes. Now here is a letter containing an article -by which the writer hopes to make money; and of which my "candid -opinion is asked, as soon as convenient." - -Now in the first place, the article is most illegibly written; an -objection sufficient to condemn it at once, with a hurried editor--and -all editors are hurried--beside having always a bushel basket full of -MSS. already in hand to look over. In the second place, the spelling -is wofully at fault. In the third place, the punctuation is altogether -missing. In the fourth place, if all these things were amended, the -article itself is tame, common-place, and badly expressed. Now that -is my "candid opinion" of it. - -Still, I am not verdant enough to believe that the writer wished my -"candid opinion" were it so condemnatory as this; and should I give -it, there is great danger it would be misconstrued. The author, in his -wounded self-love, might say, that, being a writer myself, I was not -disposed to be impartial. Or he might go farther and say that I had -probably forgotten the time when _I_ commenced writing, and longed for -an appreciative or encouraging word myself. Now this would pain me -very much; it would also be very unjust; because when I began to write -I called that person my best and truest friend who dared tell me when -I was at fault in such matters. I have now in my remembrance a -stranger, who often wrote me, regarding my articles, as they appeared -from time to time; who criticised them unsparingly; finding fault in -the plainest Saxon when he could not approve or praise. I thanked him -then, I do so now; and was gratified at the singular interest he -manifested in one unknown to him. I have never seen him all these -years of my literary effort; but I know him to have been more truly my -friend than they who would flatter me into believing better of what -talent I may possess than it really merits. - -This is the way I felt about friendly though unfavorable criticism. -The question is, have _I_ sufficient courage to risk being -misunderstood, should _I_, in this instance, speak honestly and -plainly. Or shall I write a very polite, non-committal answer, -meaning anything, or nothing. Or shall I praise it unqualifiedly, and -recommend the writer to persevere in a vocation in which I am sure he -is certain to be doomed to disappointment; and all for the sake of -being thought a generous, genial, kindly, sympathetic sort of person. - -_Which shall I do?_ - -The writer would not like to descend from his pedestal, and hear that -he must begin at the foot of the ladder, and first of all, learn to -spell correctly, before he can write. And that after words, must come -thoughts; and that after thoughts, must come the felicitous expression -of thoughts. And that, after all that, he must then look about for a -market for the same. - -This, you see, is a tedious process to one who wants not only -immediate but _large_ pecuniary results, and evidently considers -himself entitled to them, notwithstanding his deference to your -"candid opinion." - -But what a pleasure, when the person appealed to, can conscientiously -say to a writer, that he has not _over_ but _under_-rated his gifts! -What a pleasure, if one's opinion can be of any value to him, to be -able to speak encouragingly of the present, and hopefully for the -future. And surely, he who has himself waded through this initiatory -"Slough of Despond," and, by one chance in a thousand, landed safely -on the other side, should be the last to beckon, or lure into it, -those whose careless steps, struggle they ever so blindly, may never -find sure or permanent foot-hold. - -"What did I do, after all, about _that letter_?" Well, if you insist -upon cornering me, it lies unanswered on my desk, this minute: a -staring monument of the moral cowardice of FANNY FERN. - - - - -_SOME VARIETIES OF WOMEN._ - - -Chief of all sublunary abominations is the slatternly woman. I blame -no man for longing to rush from a house, the mistress of which, -habitually, and from choice, pays him the poor compliment of pouring -out his coffee in curl-papers, or tumbled hair, or dingy, collarless -morning gown, and slip-shod feet. If there is a time when a pretty -woman looks prettier than at any hour in the twenty-four, it is in a -neat breakfast toilette, with her shining bands of hair, and nice -breakfast robe, (calico, if you like, provided it fit well, and the -color be well chosen); and if there is a time when a plain woman comes -the nearest to being handsome, it is in this same lovable, domestic -dress. - -I will maintain that the coffee and eggs taste better, and that the -husband goes more smilingly and hopefully to his day's task, after -helping such a wife to bread and butter. I could never comprehend the -female slattern--thank heaven there are few of them--or understand how -a woman, though she had no eye to please but her own, should not be -scrupulously neat in all the different strata of her apparel. - -I repeat it, I blame no man from rushing in disgust from a house whose -mistress is a slattern; who never pays her husband the compliment to -look decent in her person or in her house, unless company is expected; -who reserves her yawns and old dresses for her husband, and strikes an -attitude for his male friends; whose pretty carpets are defaced with -spots; whose chairs are half dusted; whose domestic dinners are -uneatable; whose table-cloth, castors, and salt-cellars are seldom -regenerated; and whose muslins look as if they had been dipped in -saffron. - -Not to speak of the _wastefulness_ of this crying fault: bonnets, -shawls and cloaks will not long retain their beauty if left on chairs -or tables over night, instead of being carefully put away; bracelets -and brooches are not improved by being trodden upon, or ribbons and -laces by being hastily wisped into a corner. To such an extreme do I -carry my horror of an untidy woman, that I would almost refuse to -believe in the virtue of such an one. Not that I admire the woman who -is always at her husband's heels with a brush and a dust-pan; who puts -him under the harrow if he does not place his boots under the scraper -before entering the parlor; who has fits if his coat is not hung up on -the left side of the door instead of the right; who when he has but -ten minutes to spare after breakfast to enjoy the morning paper, -drives him out of his comfortable corner by the fire, to brush up a -spoonful of ashes on the hearth; who is always "righting," as she -calls it, his own particular den, which I am convinced all husbands -must be allowed to enjoy, neck deep in confusion unmolested, if their -wives wish the roof to stay on. - -I once had the misfortune to live in the house with such a female, -whose husband roosted half his in-door time on the top of the table, -to keep clear of the mop. How her cap-strings flew through the doors; -what galvanized broomsticks she wielded; how remorselessly she -ferreted out closets, and disembowelled cupboards; how horribly she -scraped glass and paint; and how anxious she looked to begin again -when it was all done. How I slunk behind doors, and dodged behind -screens, and jumped out of windows, to get out of the vixen's way; and -how I sat swinging in the elm tree in the orchard at a safe distance -till the whirlwind was past. - -Heavens; how that india-rubber woman would go to baking after she had -done cleaning, and to ironing after she had done baking, and to sewing -after she had done both; how vindictively she twitched her needle -through, as if she wished it were some live thing, that she might make -it feel weariness and pain. How like whipped spaniels her children -looked; and what a reverence they had for washing and ironing days; -how remorselessly she scrubbed their noses up and down of a Sunday -morning, and shoved them into their "meetin clothes," turning the -pockets carefully inside out, to see that no stray bit of string, or -carnal marble, or fish-hook remained, to alleviate the torture of the -long-drawn seventeenthlies of the parson's impracticable discourse. - -Still this female gave her husband light bread to eat; his coffee and -tea were always strong and hot; he might have shaved himself by the -polish of the parlor table; his buttons were on his shirts, and his -stockings always mended; but the man--and he was human--might as well -have laid his night-cap beside a sewing-machine. And oh, the weary -details of roasting, baking and broiling to which he was compelled to -listen and approve between the pauses. The messes, which in any other -female hands but hers, would inevitably have stewed over or burnt up -or evaporated. The treasure he had in her, culinarily and pecuniarily, -though he didn't know it! - -What I want to know is this: - -Must a model housekeeper always have thin lips, thick ankles, a -bolster-figure, and a fist like an overgrown beet? Need she take hold -of her children as if total depravity were bristling out of every hair -of their heads? Need the unhappy cat always take its tail under its -arm and creep into the ash-hole whenever she looks at it? _Is_ a sweet -temper foreordained to be incompatible with sweet cupboards? Would it -be unchristian to strangle such women with their own garters? - -I pause for a reply. - - * * * * * - -I don't like to admit it, but there are two things a woman can't do. -First, she _can't sharpen a lead pencil_. Give her one and see. Mark -how jaggedly she hacks away every particle of wood from the lead, -leaving a spike of the latter, which breaks as soon as you try to use -it. You can almost forgive the male creature his compassionate -contempt, as chucking her under the chin, he twitches it from her -awkward little paw, and rounds, and tapers it off in the most -ravishing manner, for durable use. * * * * * * * - - -Last week a philanthropist (need I say a _male_ philanthropist) knowing -my weakness, presented me with a two-cent-sharp-pointed-lead-pencil. My -dreams that night were peaceful. I awoke like a strong-minded woman to -run a race. I sat down to my desk. I might have known it; "I never -loved a tree or flower," etc. Some fiend had "borrowed" it. Oh the -misery that may be contained in that word "borrowed." When you are in a -hurry; when the "devil" is waiting in the basement, stamping his feet -to get back to the printing-office; when you've nothing but a miserable -little "chunky"-old-worn-out-stub of an inch long lead pencil to make -your "stet"-s and "d"-s. Shade of Ben Franklin! _shall_ I, before I -"shuffle off this mortal coil"--though I don't know what _that_ -is,--ever own another two-cent sharp-pointed-lead-pencil? - -I have said that there are two things a woman can't do. I have -mentioned one. I wish to hear no argument on _that point_, because -when I once make up my mind "all the king's men" can't change it. -Well, then--Secondly: A woman can't do up a bundle. She takes a whole -newspaper to wrap up a paper of pins, and a coil of rope to tie it, -and then it comes unfastened. When I go shopping, which it is -sometimes my hard lot to do, I look with the fascinated gaze of a bird -in the neighborhood of a magnetic serpent, to watch clerks doing up -bundles. How the paper falls into just the right creases! how deftly -they turn it over, and tuck it under, and tie it up, and then throw it -down on the counter, as if they had done the most common-place thing -in the world, instead of a deed which might--and, faith, _does_--task -the ingenuity of "angels!" It is perfectly astonishing! It repays me -for all my botheration in matching this color and deciding on that, in -hearing them call a piece of tape "a _chaste_ article," and for -sitting on those revolving stools fastened down so near the counter, -that it takes a peculiarly constructed shopper to stay on one of them. - -Thirdly--I might allude to the fact that women cannot carry an -umbrella; or rather to the very peculiar manner in which they perform -that duty; but I won't. I scorn to turn traitor to a sex who, whatever -may be their faults,--are always loyal to each other.--So I shall not -say, as I might otherwise have said, that when they unfurl the -parachute alluded to, they put it right down over their noses,--take -the middle of the sidewalk, raking off men's hats and woman's bonnets, -as they go, and walking right into the breakfast of some unfortunate -wight, with that total disregard of the consequent _gasp_, which to be -understood must be _felt_, as the offender cocks up one corner of the -parachute, and looks defiantly at the victim who has had the -effrontery to come into the world and hazard the whalebone and handle -of _her_ "umberil!" No, I won't speak of anything of the kind; -besides, has not a celebrated writer remarked, that when dear "woman -is cross, it is only because she is _sick_?" Let us hope he is right. -We all know that is not the cause of a MAN'S crossness. _Give him his -favorite dish, and you may dine off him afterward--if you want to._ - -Amiable creatures are the majority of women--to each other; -charitable--above all things _charitable_! Always ready to acknowledge -each other's beauty, or grace, or talent. Never sneer down a sister -woman, or pay her a patronizing compliment with the finale of the -inevitable--"_but_." Never run the cool, impertinent eye of -calculation over her dress, noting the cost of each article, and -summing up the amount in a contemptuous toss, whether it amounts to -fifty cents or five hundred dollars, more likely when it is the -latter! Never say to a gentleman who praises a lady, what a pity she -squints! Never say of an authoress, oh yes--she has talent, but _I_ -prefer the domestic virtues; as if a combination of the two were -necessarily impossible, or as if the speaker had the personal -knowledge which qualified her to pronounce on that individual case. - -Well-bred, too, are women to sister woman.--Never discuss the color of -her hair, or the style of its arrangement, her smile, her gait, so -that she can hear every word of it. Never take it for granted that she -is making a dead-set at a man, to whom she is only replying--"Very -well, I thank you, sir." Never sit in church and stare her out of -countenance, while mentally taking her measure, or nudge some one to -look at her, while recapitulating within ear-shot all the contemptible -gossip which weak-minded, empty-headed women are so fond of retailing. - -Now just let a dear woman visit you. Don't you _know_ that her eyes -are peering into every corner and crevice of your house all the while -she is "_dear_"-ing and "_sweet_"-ing you? Don't you know that her -lynx eyes are on the carpet for possible spots, or mismatched roses? -Don't she touch her fingers to the furniture for stray particles of -dust? Don't she hold her tumblers up to the light, and examine -microscopically the quality of your table-cloths and napkins, and -improvise an errand into your kitchen to inspect your culinary -arrangements, to the infinite disgust of Bridget? Don't she follow you -like a spectre all over the house, till you are as nervous as a cat in -a cupboard? Don't she sit down opposite you for dreary hours, with -folded hands, and that horse-leech--"now-talk-to-me" air--which -quenches all your vitality--and sets you gaping, as inevitably as a -minister's "_seventeenthly_." - -Ah, the children! How could I forget the little children? _I clasp the -hand of universal woman on that_; Heaven knows I don't want to -misrepresent them. And after all, do I ever allow anybody to abuse -them but me? Never! - - * * * * * - -There are many kinds of women. Of course I adore them all; but there -is one who excites my unfeigned astonishment. I allude to the rabbit -woman. She has four chins and twelve babies. She has two dresses--a -loose calico wrapper for home wear, and a black silk for "meetin'." -She eats tremendously, and never goes out; she calls her husband "Pa." -She is quite content to roll leisurely from her rocking-chair in the -nursery to the dining-room table, and thence back again, year in and -year out. She knows nothing that is passing in the outside world, nor -cares. She never touches a book or a newspaper, not even when she is -rocking her baby to sleep, and might. She never troubles herself about -Pa, so long as he don't get in her way, or sit on the twelve babies. -She has a particular fondness for the child who cries the most, and -won't go to sleep without a stick of candy in each fist. She has a -voice like an auctioneer, and prefers cabbage to any vegetable extant. - -"Pa" is devoted to her, _i. e._, he calls her My dear, and as soon as -he enters the house, before hanging up his hat, kisses all the twelve -children immediately, whether dirty or clean, and inquires tenderly -after her health: keeps her stupid on a full diet, and flirts -desperately, at a safe distance, behind her back. - -Secondly, there is the _prim_ woman, with her mouth always in a -prepared state to whistle; who crosses over if she sees a man coming, -and tosses up the end of her shawl when she sits down, lest she should -crease it; who keeps her parasol in several layers of tissue-paper -when not on duty: puts her two shoes on the window-sill "to air" every -night, and suggests more indelicacy by constantly running away from -it, then she could ever find by the most zealous search. - -Thirdly, there is your butterfly woman, who, provided her wings are -gay and gauzy, is not particular where she alights. Who cannot exist -out of the sunbeams, and dreads a rainy day like an old gown. Who -values her male acquaintance according to their capabilities for -trotting her to balls, operas and parties, and giving her rings and -bouquets. Who spoils all the good looks she has, trying to make -herself "look better," and turns into a very ordinary caterpillar -after marriage. - -Fourthly, there is your library woman, steeped in folios; steeped in -languages, both living and dead; steeped in ologies, steeped in -politics; who walks round a baby as if it were a rattle-snake, and if -she was born with a heart, never has found it out. - -Fifthly, there is your female viper--your cat--your hyena. All claws, -nails and tongue. Wiry, bloodless, snappy, narrow, vindictive; -lapping up your life-blood with her slanders, and clawing out your -warm, palpitating heart. Out on her! - -Sixthly, there is your woman--pretty or plain, it matters not; -lady-like by nature; intelligent, but not pedantic; modest, yet not -prudish; strong-hearted, but not "strong-minded" (as that term is at -present perverted); no "scholar," and yet well read; no butterfly, and -yet bright and gay. Merry without noise, silent without stupidity, -religious without fanaticism, capable of an opinion, and yet able to -hold her tongue. If married, not of necessity sinking into a mere -machine; if unmarried, occupying herself with other things than -husband-hunting. Liking books, yet not despising needles and brooms; -genial, unaffected, good-natured; with an active brain, and a live -heart under lock and key. God bless her! wherever she is, for she -redeems all the rest. - - * * * * * - -Do you suppose that the woman ever lived who would _prefer_ single to -married life had she ever met with a man whom she could really love? I -have seen cold, intellectual women, _apparently_ self-poised and -self-sustained, gliding like the moon on their solitary path alone, -diffusing light, perhaps, but no warmth; to the superficial observer -looking as carelessly down upon joy as upon sorrow; but no power on -earth could persuade me, that beneath that smooth ice there smouldered -no volcano; no reasoning persuade me that those fingers would not -rather have been twisting a baby's soft curls, than turning the leaves -of musty folios; no negative shake of the head, or forced laugh, -prevent my eyes from following with sorrowful looks the woman who was -trying to make herself believe such a lie. Let her pile her books -shelf upon shelf, and scribble till her pen, ink, paper, thoughts, -eyes and candle give out;--and then let her turn round and face her -woman's heart if she dare! I defy her to stop long enough to listen -one half hour to its pleadings. I defy her to sit down in the still -moonlight and look on, while old memories in mournful procession -defile before her soul's mirror, without a smothered cry of anguish. I -defy her to listen to the brook's ripple, the whispered leaf-music, or -to look at the soft clouds, the quiet stars, the blossoming flowers, -the little pairing birds as they build their nests--and above all, -upon a mother with her babe's arms about her neck--without turning -soul-sick away. She is _not_ a woman if she can do otherwise. She is -not a woman if she can be satisfied with clasping her own arms over a -waist which belongs to nobody but herself. I declare her to be a -machine--a stick--and carved in straight instead of undulating lines; -she's an icicle--an ossification--a petrifaction--an abortion--a -monster--let her keep her stony eyes and cold fingers off me; she has -no place in this living, breathing, panting, loving world. Out upon -her for a walking mummy--leave her to her hieroglyphics, which are -beyond my understanding. - -Pshaw--there are no such women; they are only making the best of what -they can't help; they are eating their own hearts and make no sign -dying. They ought all to be wives and mothers. Cats, poodle-dogs, -parrots--plants, canaries and vestry meetings--are nothing to it. No -woman ever has the faintest glimpse into heaven till she has nursed -her own baby; in fact, I half doubt if she has earned a right to go -there till she has legitimately had one. - -Now were I an old maid--had no man endowed me with the names of wife -and mother, I would not go round the world whining about it, either in -prose or verse, any more than I would affect a stoicism, transparent -to every beholder; I would just adopt the first fat baby I could find, -though I had to work my fingers to the bone to keep its little mouth -filled. I _would_ have some motive to live--something to work -for--something, in flesh and blood, which I could call my own:--some -little live, warm thing to put my cheek against when my heart ached. -Unprotected!--"A little child" with its pure presence, should be my -protection. I _wouldn't_ dry up and blow off like a useless leaf, with -the warm, fragrant sunshine and blue sky about me, and my heart -beating against my breast like a trip-hammer. My little room -_shouldn't_ be cheerless and voiceless. I _wouldn't_ die till some -little voice had called me "mother," though my blood did not flow in -its rosy veins. I _would_ have something to make sunshine in my heart -and home; my nature shouldn't be like a tree growing close to a stone -wall, only one half of which had a chance to develop, only one half of -which caught the air and light and sunshine--no, I would tear myself -up by the roots, and turn round and replant myself. _Some_ bird should -come, make its home with me, and sing for me; else what use were my -sheltering leaves? Better the lightning should strike me, or the -woodman's axe cut me down. - - * * * * * - -Men who have any physical defect, are apt to imagine that it will -forever be a barrier between them and woman's love. There never was a -greater mistake than this, as has been proved again and again in -love's history. Not a hundred years since, nor a hundred miles -distant, we heard of a young girl who had become strongly attached to -a young man who was blind in one eye; _and for that very reason_! He -was sensitive about his infirmity to that degree, that he shrank from -general society, particularly that of ladies, whose presence seemed to -make him morbidly miserable; so much had he exaggerated what he was -quite unaware would call forth sympathy, instead of ridicule, from any -_true_ woman. The young girl, of whom we speak, knowing what we have -related about him, though personally a stranger to the young man, had -insensibly, through her pity, begun to love, and was then earnestly -seeking some way in which, without compromising her modesty, she could -encourage his notice of her. One thing you may always be sure of. No -woman is in love with a man whom she freely praises, and of whom she -oftenest speaks; but if there is one whom she _never_ names, if she -start and blush when others name him, if she can find no voice to -answer the most common-place question he addresses her, if she avoid -him, and will have none of him, if she pettishly find fault with him -when he is commended to her notice by others, look sharp, for that is -_the_ man. - - - - -_CONCERNING THE MISTAKES ABOUT OUR CHILDREN._ - - -I believe every one is of the opinion that children should be taught -civility; but there is one way that they are tortured, in the zealous -parental endeavor to teach them politeness, which seems to us -deserving of the severest reprehension. Some person comes to the -house, it may be a valued and worthy friend, who is unfortunately -repulsive in appearance and manners. Mamma tells Johnny to "go kiss" -the lady, or gentleman, as the case may be. Now Johnny, like other -human beings, has his personal preferences, and in a case like this -especially, prefers spontaneity. He may obey, it is true, but it is a -question when a simple recognition would have answered, whether an act -involving hypocrisy were not better omitted. I speak from experience, -remembering well the horror with which I looked forward, in my -childhood, to the periodical visits of a snuffy old person. I think my -uncompromising hatred of tobacco in every form, dates back to those -forced snuffy kisses, followed in many cases by actual nausea, and in -all by a vigorous facial ablution on my part, after the repulsive -ceremony. To this day, a colored silk handkerchief, of the antique -pattern most affected by snuff-takers, affects me as does the sight -of a red shawl, a belligerent rooster, or bull. - -That horrible colored silk handkerchief! preferred to a white one, for -a reason which makes one's flesh creep, and one's blood run cold, -fumbled ever and anon from the stifling depths of a huge pocket, and -flourished with its resurrectionized effluvia, under your disgusted -and averted nose. Excuse my speaking with feeling, dear reader, for -even in these later days have I sacrificed many a comfortable seat in -a public conveyance that those infatuated lovers of the weed in every -shape might have a wide berth for their noisome atmosphere. Now, to -force a little child, fresh and sweet, with a breath like a bunch of -spring violets, to contact with such impolite persons, for the sake of -"_politeness_" seems to me an act of tyranny worthy of Nero. - - * * * * * - -Some mothers seem unwilling to recognize a child's individuality. "She -is such a strange child--so different from other children," a mother -remarked in my hearing, with a sigh of discontent; as if all children -should be made after one model; as if one of the greatest charms of -life were not individuality; as if one of the dearest, and weariest, -and least improving, and most stagnating things in the world, were not -a family or neighborhood which was only a mutual echo and re-echo. - -"Different from other children!" Well--_let her be different_; you -can't help it if you would--you ought not if you could. It is not -your mission, or that of any parent, to crush out this or that -faculty, or bias, which is God-implanted for wise purposes. You are -only to modify and direct such by judicious counsel. A child who -thinks for itself, prefers waiting upon itself, and is naturally -self-sustained, is of course much more trouble than a heavy-headed -child, who "stays put" wherever and however you choose to "dump" him -down; but it is useless to ask which, with equally good training, will -be the most efficient worker in the great life-field. Suppose he -_does_ question your opinions occasionally, don't be in a hurry to -call it "impertinence;" don't be too lazy or too dignified to argue -the matter with him; thank God rather, that his faculties are wide -awake and active. Nor does it necessarily follow that such a child -must be contumacious or disobedient. Such a nature, however, should be -tenderly dealt with, Firm yet _gentle_ words--never injustice or harsh -usage. You may tell such a child to "hold its tongue" when it corners -you in an argument, often, without any intentional disrespect, but you -cannot prevent its thinking. It should not follow that a young person -must, as a matter of course, though they mostly do, adopt the parental -religious creed. Some parents I have known unwise enough to insist -upon this. A forced faith for the wear and tear of life's trials, is -but a broken reed to lean upon. On these subjects talk yourself; let -your child talk, and then let him, like yourself, be free to think and -choose, when this is done. - -Out of twenty violets in a garden, you shall not find any two alike, -but this does not displease you. One is a royal purple, another a -light lilac; one flecked with little bright golden spots, another -shaded off with different tints of the same violet color, with a -delicacy no artist could improve. You plant them, and let them all -grow and develop according to their nature, now and then plucking off -a dead leaf, now loosening the earth about the roots, or watering or -giving it shade or sunshine, as the case may be, but you don't try to -erase the delicate tints upon its leaves and substitute others which -you fancy are better. No human fingers could recreate what you would -mar--you know that; so you bend over it lovingly, and let it nod to -the breeze, and bend pliantly to the shower, or lift its sweet face, -when the sun shines out, and through all its various changes you do -not sigh for monotony. So, when I see a family of children, I like the -mother's blue eyes reproduced, and the father's black eyes. I like the -waving, sunny locks, and the light brown, and the raven; I like the -peach-blossom skin, and the gipsy olive, round the same hearthstone, -all rocked in the same cradle. Each is beautiful of its kind; the -variety pleases me. Just so I like diversity in regard to temperament -and mental faculties. Each have their merits; Heaven forbid they -should be rolled and swathed up like mental mummies, bolt upright, -rigid, and fearfully repeated; no collision of mind to strike out new -ideas, no progress, no improvement. Surely this is not the age for -that. - -A public toast recently given runs thus; "Our parents: the only -tenders who never misplaced a switch." - -Now you may laugh at that--so did I--but where could you find a -greater fib? Many a time and oft have parents laid the switch on their -children's backs, when they should have applied it to their own; many -a time has the lash which should have descended upon the back of the -favorite, fallen upon his much abused brother's. There is nothing in -creation which parents so often misplace as the switch; and it need -not of necessity be a birchen rod or a ferule; there are switches -which cut deeper than either, of which many a ruined man and woman can -tell you. - -I knew two children--one blundering, but honest, sincere, -self-reliant, speaking the plain truth on all occasions without -qualification, making his requests in few words, and smothering his -disappointment as best he might when refused. The other, wily, -diplomatic, Chesterfieldian, ever with a soft word on the tip of his -tongue, to pave the way for the much desired boon, which was never -refused, so winning, so courteous, so apparently respectful was the -seeker. Follow these two children. See the latter in the play-ground, -boasting to his young associates what he has got from the "old -gentleman" or the "old lady," boasting what he will yet get--boasting -that he knows how to do it; rehearsing to them the disgusting -pantomime of the caress, the respectful, deferential attitude which he -uses on such occasions. Follow the other to his little room at the -top of the house; see him sitting in gloomy silence, too proud to -weep, too proud to complain, brooding over the injustice done him--not -hating the fraternal owner of the "coat of many colors," no thanks to -those who gave them both birth, but looking into the far dim future -with that wistful longing which comes of unloved, precocious -childhood; sitting there--with his own hand turning the poisoned arrow -round and round in the festering wound, incapable of extracting it, -and yet knowing no balm to assuage its intolerable anguish. - -Follow out their two histories. See the Chesterfieldian favorite sent -to college; contracting long livery-stable, hotel, and tailors' bills, -with a perfect reliance upon his diplomatic abilities to "set it all -right with the old gentleman;" thanking him deceitfully for his -unparalleled generosity to a son so unworthy; alluding delicately to -his pride in him as a father, and trusting some day to make a proper -return for all his goodness, etc., etc. See the "stupid boy" who is -summarily set down to be wanting in cleverness, accepting in silence -this verdict, and the consequent disposal of his time in some -uncongenial, distasteful employment, till at last, wearied out by the -silent drop that descends mercilessly and unremittingly, hour by hour, -on his tortured soul, he rushes from the home which has been a home -only in name, and wanders forth, with the gnawing pain in his heart -for silent company. Merciful God! what is to keep him? His blood is -young and warm, his heart throbbing wildly in his breast for what -every human thing yearns for--sympathy--love! - -Years pass on. The college boy returns with more knowledge of horses, -wine and women, than of Greek, Latin and mathematics--returns to -receive the congratulations of partial friends that he has passed off -for pure gold the glittering brass of his showy superficiality. The -truant's name is never mentioned, or if so, with the hope, not that he -may be kept from evil, but "that he may not disgrace us." Meanwhile -the wanderer lies languishing on a bed of sickness in a foreign -country. Woman's heart is the same in all lands, when pity knocks at -it, else had he closed his eyes in exile. Pity he had not--pity he -returned to be asked, with cold tones and averted eyes, why he did not -stay there. Pity that he could not smother that unconquerable longing -which approaching death brings, to look our last upon our native land. -Pity that the errors born of neglected childhood, and forsaken youth, -should have been held up to him by the pharisaical hands which goaded -him into them, even at the tomb's portal. Pity that sinful man may not -be merciful as a holy, pitying God. - -I ask you, and you, and you, who have woven the "coat of many colors" -for some one of your household--you who, by your partiality and -short-sightedness, are fostering the rank weeds, and trampling under -foot the humble flowers--you who are bringing up children whose hearts -shall one day be colder to each other than the dead in their -graves--you upon whom shall be visited--alas! too late--every scalding -tear of agony and disappointment from out young eyes, which should -have beamed only with hope and gladness;--I ask every parent who is -doing this, if he or she is willing that his or her child shall grow -up by these means to lose his faith in man, and sadder still, in God? - - * * * * * - -I wonder is it foreordained that there shall be one child in every -family whom "nobody can do anything with?" Who tears around the -paternal pasture with its heels in the air, looking at rules, as a -colt does at fences, as good things to jump over. We all know that the -poor thing must be "broken in," and all its graceful curvetings -sobered down to a monotonous jog-trot; that it must be taught to bear -heavy burdens, and to toil up many a steep ascent at the touch of the -spur; but who that has climbed the weary height does not pass the -halter round the neck of the pretty creature with a half-sigh, that -its happy day of careless freedom should be soon ended? - -How it bounds away from you, making you almost glad that your attempt -was a failure; how lovingly your eye follows it, as it makes the swift -breathless circle, and stops at a safe distance to nod you defiance. -Something of all this every loving parent has felt, while trying to -reduce to order the child whom "nobody can do anything with." - -Geography, grammar and history seem to be put into one ear, only to -go out at the other. The multiplication table might as well be written -in Arabic, for any idea it conveys, or lodges, if conveyed, in the -poor thing's head. Temperate, torrid, and frigid zones may all be of a -temperature, for all she can remember, and her mother might have been -present at the creation of the world, or at the birth of the Author of -it, for aught she can chronologically be brought to see. - -But look! she is tired of play, and has taken up her pencil to draw; -she has had no instruction; but peep over her shoulder and follow her -pencil; there is the true artist touch in that little sketch, though -she does not know it--a freedom, a boldness which teaching may -regulate, never impart. Now she is tired of drawing, and takes up a -volume of poems, far beyond the comprehension, one would think, of a -child of her years, and though she often miscalls a word, and knows -little and cares less about commas and semi-colons, yet not the finest -touch of humor or pathos escapes her, and the poet would be lucky, -were he always sure of so appreciative a reader. She might tell you -that France was bounded south by the Gulf of Mexico, but you yourself -could not criticise Dickens or Thackeray with more discrimination. - -Down goes the book, and she is on the tips of her toes pirouetting. -She has never seen a dancing-school, nor need she; perfectly modeled -machinery cannot but move harmoniously; she does not know, as she -floats about, that she is an animated poem. Now she is tired of -dancing, and she throws herself into an old arm-chair, in an attitude -an artist might copy, and commences to sing; she is ignorant of -quavers, crotchets and semi-breves, of tenors, baritones and sopranos, -and yet you, who have heard them with rapturous encores, stop to -listen to her simple melody. - -Now she is down in the kitchen playing cook; she turns a beef-steak as -if she had been brought up in a restaurant, and washes dishes for fun, -as if it had been always sober earnest; singing, dancing and drawing -the cook's portrait at intervals, and all equally well done. - -Now send that child to any school in the land, where "Moral Science" -is hammered remorselessly and uselessly into curly heads, and she -would be pronounced an incorrigible dunce. Idiotically stupid -parrot-girls would ride over her shrinking, sensitive shame-facedness, -rough-shod. She would be kept after school, kept in during recess, and -have a discouraging list of bad recitation marks as long as Long -Island; get a crooked spine, grow ashamed of throwing snow-balls, have -a chronic headache, and an incurable disgust of teachers and schools, -as well she might. - -She is like a wild rose, creeping here, climbing there, blossoming -where you least expect it, on some rough stone wall or gnarled trunk, -at its own free, graceful will. You may dig it up and transplant it -into your formal garden if you like, but you would never know it more -for the luxuriant wild-rose, this "child whom nobody can do anything -with." - -Some who read this may ask, and properly, is such a child never to -know the restraint of rule? I would be the last to answer in the -negative, nor (and here it seems to me the great agony of outraged -childhood comes in) would I have parents or teachers stretch or dwarf -children of all sorts, sizes and capacities, on the same narrow -Procrustean bed of scholastic or parental rule. No farmer plants his -celery and potatoes in the same spot, and expects it to bear good -fruit. Some vegetables he shields from the rude touch, the rough wind, -the blazing sun; he knows that each requires different and appropriate -nurture, according to its capacities. Should they who have the care of -the immortal be less wise? - -"You have too much imagination, you should try to crush it out," was -said many years ago to the writer, in her school-days, by one who -should have known that "He who seeth the end from the beginning," -bestows _no_ faculty to be "crushed out;" that this very faculty it is -which has placed the writer, at this moment, beyond the necessity of -singing, like so many of her sex, the weary "Song of the Shirt." - - * * * * * - -One request I would make of every mother. Make your "nursery" -pleasant. Never mind about your "parlor," _but is your nursery a -cheerful place_? Is there anything there upon the wall for little eyes -to look at, and little minds to think about when they wake so early -in the morning; or as they lounge about when a stormy day keeps them -close prisoners? If not, see to it without delay. Don't say I "can't -afford it;" one shilling--two shillings will do it; if you can spare a -few shillings more, so much the better. You know the effect a bright, -cheerful apartment has upon yourself, even with all your mature -resources for thought and pleasure. Think then of the little children, -reaching out their young thoughts, like vine tendrils, for something -to twine about, something to lean on, something to grow to,--in fine, -something to think and talk about. A blank, white wall is not -suggestive or inspiriting. Give the little nursery prisoner something -bright to look at. Can that be called "a trifle" which makes home -attractive? We think not. Therefore we like flowering plants in -windows. There are some houses which make us feel as though we were on -friendly terms with the inmates, through these cheerful, mute tokens. -Mute! did I say? Have our past lives been so barren of incident that -the perfume of a flower never brought before us some bright face, or -loved form, which has made life for us blessed? You must have felt -it--and _you_ and _you_; I am sure of it. Just such a rose as that you -have "seen in her hair;" and you sit dreamily looking at it, as it -sways gracefully on the stem; and you wonder what the dear child, so -many hundred miles away, is thinking of now; and whether her -full-blossomed life has fulfilled its budding promise. And that -reminds you how the whirlpool of life's cares and duties has almost -engulfed these sweet memories; and resolutely turning your back upon -them all, you sit down and write a warm _heart-letter_, which comes to -her in her distant home, like a white-winged dove at the window of a -dreary winter day. And all this came of the little rose in your -window; the old love wakened in _your_ heart, and the gladness to -_hers_! - -Eloquent? If flowers are not eloquent, who or what is? Then, why are -so many withered leaves put away with bright tresses and pressed -passionately to lonely lips, whose quivering no eye sees save His "who -wounds but to heal?" Eloquent? Could mines of gold buy them? _This_ -was twined in her bridal veil; _that_ was laid upon her coffin-lid. No -fingers but yours may touch the shrivelled treasures. For _her_ sake -you have placed their blossoming counterparts in your window. You shut -your eyes when you go near them, that their perfume may seem her very -breath. - -Eloquent? Why does the old man stoop, and with trembling fingers pick -the daisy or violet, and place them in his button-hole? Don't question -him about it when strangers are by. It is the key to his whole -life--that little flower. - -"My mother liked primroses," the matron says to her little child; and -so they blossom in _her_ home as they did, many years ago, in the -sunny nursery-window of her childhood. Ah, these "mothers!" whose -"rights," guaranteed by the Great Law-giver, nor statute makers, nor -statute breakers can weaken or set aside. Long years after they are -dust, shall some little blossom they loved be placed in a bosom which -yearns unceasingly, over and above every other human love, for her who -gave it these warm pulsations. Blessed be these memorials of "the long -ago!" - - * * * * * - -There is a class of mothers, _easy_ mothers, who lose much time by not -_finding time_ for imperative duties. We wish it were possible to -persuade some of them, who are otherwise most excellent mothers--how -much trouble they would save themselves, by exercising a little -firmness toward their young children. Of course it takes more time to -contest a point with a child, than to yield it; and a busy mother not -reflecting that this is not for once, but for thousands of future -times, and to rid herself of importunity, says wearily--"yes--yes--you -may do it;" when all the while she knows it to be wrong and most -injurious to the child. Then there comes a time when she _must_ say -No! and the difficulty of enforcing it, at so late a period of -indulgence, none can tell but "easy" mothers of self-willed children. -For _your own sakes_, then, mothers, if you have not the future good -of your children at heart; for your own sakes--and to save yourselves -great trouble in the future, _learn to say No--and take time to -enforce it_. Let everything else go, if necessary, because this -contest must be fought out, successfully, with every separate child; -and remember once fought it is done with forever. When we see mothers, -day by day, worried--harassed, worn out by ceaseless teasings and -importunities, all for want of a little firmness at the outset, we -know not whether to be more sorry or angry. - -Again: some mothers are so busy about the temporal wants of their -children that they are wholly unacquainted with them spiritually. You -are very careful of your daughter's dress; you attend personally to -its purchase and fit. You go with her to see that her foot is nicely -gaitered; and you give your milliner special instructions as to the -make and becomingness of her bonnets; but do you ever ask yourself, -_what she is thinking about_? In other words, do you know anything at -all of her inner life? Many who are esteemed most excellent mothers, -are as ignorant on this all-important point as if they had never -looked upon their daughters' faces. They exact respectful obedience, -and if the young creature yields it, and has no need of a physician's -immediate services, they consider their duty done. Alas, what a fatal -mistake! These are the mothers, who, never having invited the -confidence of those young hearts, live to see it bestowed anywhere and -everywhere but in accordance with their wishes. _Is_ it, _can_ it be -enough to a mother worthy the name, to be satisfied that her -daughter's physical wants are cared for? What of that yearning, hungry -soul, that is casting about, here and there, for something to satisfy -its questionings? Oh, give a thought _sometimes_ to this. When she -sits there by the fire, or by the window, musing, sit down by her, and -_love_ her thoughts out of her. Cast that fatal "dignity" or -indifference to the winds, which has come between so many young -creatures and the heart to which they should lie nearest in these -important forming years. "Respect" is good in its place; but when it -freezes up your daughter's soul-utterances; when it sends her for -sympathy and companionship to chance guides, _what then_? A word, a -loving, kind word, at the right moment! No mind can over-estimate its -importance. Remember this, when you see the sad wrecks of womanhood -about you; and amid the sweeping waves of life's cares and life's -pleasures, what else soever you neglect, do not fail to know _what -that young daughter of yours is thinking about_. - - * * * * * - -How strong sometimes is weakness! When a very young child loses its -mother, before it has yet learned to syllable her name, we are -generally struck with pity at what we call its "helpless condition;" -and yet, after all, its apparent helplessness is at once its strength -and shield; for is not every kind heart about it immediately drawn -toward it in love and sympathy? Do not the touch of its soft hand, its -pretty flitting smile, the "cuddlesome" leaning of the little head, -the trustful innocence of its eyes, do more for it, than could all the -eloquence of Demosthenes? I was struck with the truth of this not long -since, upon going into a shop to make a purchase, where I found the -young girl who usually waited there, with a little babe in charge, -whose mother had just died. Looking about the shop, and remarking the -many calls upon her time and attention, as she moved quickly around -with this pretty little burden upon her arm, I said, this child must -be a great care for you. Yes, said she; but oh, _such a comfort, too_. -And so playing with the baby and talking the while, I learned that -before its mother died, it was taken in every night for her to kiss -it, before it was put to sleep. After the mother's funeral, as the -young girl was passing through that room with it, the little creature -_stretched out its hands toward the empty bed for the accustomed -kiss_? Tears stood in her eyes, as she again kissed the baby. I knew -_now_ how it was that the "_comfort_" outweighed the "_care_." No -voice from the spirit-land could so effectually and solemnly have -bound up her future with that orphan baby as that mute reaching out of -its loving arms to that empty bed. _Now_ had that young girl a _soul_ -for labor; a motive for living. _Now_ there was something to repay -toil. Something for her to love--something to love her. Every customer -who came in, was so much toward a subsistence for little Annie. Ah, -the difference between plodding on for cold duty's sake, and working -with one's heart in it! The little shop looked bright as heaven, that -cold November afternoon, and I went out of it, wondering what people -could mean when they spoke of "_infant helplessness_;" since all New -York might have failed to do for that little one, what it had -accomplished for itself by that one unconscious, touching little -action. - - - - -_THOUGHTS ON SOME EVERY DAY TOPICS._ - - -Women boarders are often called troublesome; but it must be remembered -that all a man wants of his room is to sleep and dress in, but it is a -woman's _home_; and alas! often all she has. She would not _be_ a -woman did she not desire to make it tidy and habitable. This--her -landlady contracts to do. The fruitless ringings for fresh-water, -towels, coal, lights and a clean carpet--and she is not allowed to go -down stairs after them herself--are not unknown to any woman who has -worn life out in boarding-houses. It is not, as I remarked, in the -nature of a woman to be comfortable in Babel; nor does its owner fancy -a cloud of dust, raised in the middle of the day, upon her nicely -smoothed hair, or clean collar, because the chambermaid has an -appointment with John, the waiter, in the entry, or because she enjoys -lolling out the front window on her elbows an hour in every room she -is "righting," instead of attending promptly to her business, and -getting through with it. - -Now, man is by nature an unclean animal. I doubt if he would ever wash -his face, were there no women about who would refuse to kiss him if he -didn't. Well--_he_ clears a hole in the middle of his room, and gets -ready for breakfast; which he swallows, and then bolts through the -front-door, (dining down town,) not to return again till evening. What -possible difference, then, does it make to him, whether his bed be -made, and his room swept at ten o'clock in the morning, or four in the -afternoon? _His_ home is in the restaurant, in the store, in the -street, anywhere and everywhere, that temptation and inclination may -lead him; four walls don't bound _his_ vision. He can afford to be -philosophical about brooms and dust-pans. - -But let Biddy take them into his _counting-room_. Let him stand round -on one leg while she--having moved his desk and displaced his ledgers -and papers, preparatory to a sweep--runs out into the street half an -hour, under pretence of getting a broom, to gossip with an -acquaintance. Let him, getting impatient, sit down in the midst of the -hub-bub, and drawing up his inkstand, commence writing. Let Biddie -re-enter, just as he gets under way, with a frisk of that wretched, -long-handled duster, which tosses on more dust than she ever takes -off. Let him rise again and make way for her, and then--let her bob -off again--after a little water, and stay another half hour,--and all -the while the merciless clock ticking on, and the perspiration -standing on his forehead at this unnecessary waste of his time and -temper, and the work he _hasn't_ done, and let Biddy repeat this in -that counting-room, to that man, every morning in the year, (365 -mornings). How long do you suppose he would stand that? - -Well, that's just what women in boarding-houses have to put up with. -That's why they are troublesome. That's why they can't help it. That's -why landladies like men who live everywhere but in their rooms, and -who, provided their mattress is not put in their washbowl, and the -ends of their cigars are not broken by the landlady's little boy, give -her carte blanche as to dirt and other luxuries. - -On the other hand I acknowledge that a man-boarder eats four times as -much as a woman, and often keeps his landlady waiting weeks to have -her bill paid, if indeed he ever pays it. Then he tumbles up stairs at -midnight in an oblivious condition, thumping against all the doors as -he goes, frightening the single women into fits, and waking up hapless -babies, to drain the last drop of the milk of motherly kindness? Then -he brings his comrades home to dinner or to tea, and expects his poor -struggling landlady to omit all mention of the same when she makes out -her bill? Then, notwithstanding this, he sniffs at the eggs, cracks -stale jokes on the chickens; rails at the beef, looks daggers into the -coffee-cup, and holds his supercilious nose when the butter is too -near; and by many other gentlemanly tokens shows the poor widow, whose -husband once would not let the wind blow roughly on her, that he will -grind her and her children down to the last fraction, that he may -spend it on cigars and drinks, while the gray hairs gather thickly on -her temples, and she goes to sleep every night with a "God help me," -on her lips. - - * * * * * - -It is a self-evident fact, that all women are not ladies, in the best -sense of the word; _i. e._ by virtue of behavior, _not_ dress; no -doubt landladies as well as others have often discovered this. It is -very easy to tell "a lady" by the standard of behavior. Ten women -shall get into an omnibus, and though we never saw one of them before, -we shall select you the true lady. She does not titter when a -gentleman, handing up her fare, knocks off his hat, or pitches it awry -over his nose; nor does she receive her "change," after this -inconvenient act of gallantry, in grim silence. She wears no flowered -brocade there to be trodden under foot, nor ball-room jewelry, nor -rose-tinted gloves; but the lace frill round her face is scrupulously -fresh, and the strings under her chin have evidently been handled only -by dainty fingers. She makes no parade of a watch, if she wears one; -nor does she draw off her dark, neatly-fitting glove to display -ostentatious rings. Still we notice, nestling in the straw beneath us, -such a trig little boot, not paper-soled, but of an anti-consumption -thickness; the bonnet upon her head is plain, simply trimmed, for your -true lady never wears full-dress in an omnibus. She is quite as civil -to the _poorest_ as to the _richest_ person who sits beside her, and -equally regardful of their rights. If she attracts attention, it is by -the unconscious grace of her person and manner, not by the -ostentation of her dress. We are quite sorry when she pulls the strap -and disappears. We saw a lady do a very pretty thing the other -morning. Our omnibus was nearly full of ladies, going down town, when -quite an elderly man slowly mounted the steps, and clambered in, -taking a seat by the door. The lady next him, observing him take out -his fare, smilingly extended her hand to the venerable man, passed the -money up to the driver, and returned the change. It was a _little_ -thing, but, oh, how _lovely_! more particularly, as the old man's hat -was shabby, his coat seedy, and he had every mark of poverty about -him. That woman will make a good wife, said we, and we had half a mind -to ask her address, for the benefit of some young man; only that we -reflected that unless her virtues were backed by "a fortune," they -might possibly go a-begging. - - * * * * * - -The "term" lady has been so misused, that I like better the -old-fashioned term, _woman_. I sometimes think the influence of a good -woman greater than that of a good man. There are so many avenues to the -human heart left open to her gentle approach, which would be instantly -barred up at the sound of rougher footsteps. One may tell anything to a -good woman. In her presence pride sleeps or is disarmed. The old -child-feeling comes back upon the world-weary man, and he knows not why -he has reposed the unsought confidence which has so lightened his -heart. Why he goes forth again ashamed that one so feeble is so much -mightier. Why _he_ could doubt and despair where _she_ can trust and -wait. Why he could fly from the foe for whose approach she so -courageously tarries. Why he thinks of the dagger, or pistol, or -poisoned cup, while she, accepting the fierce blast of misfortune, -meekly bows her head till the whirlwind be overpast,--believing, -hoping, _knowing_ that God's bright smile of sunshine will break -through at last. - -The world-weary man looks on with wonder, reverencing yet not -comprehending. How _can_ he comprehend? He who stands in his pride, -with his panting soul uncovered, in the scorching Zahara of _Reason_, -and then complains that no dew falls, no showers descend, no buds, -blossoms, or fruit cheer him. How can he who faces with folded arms -and defiant attitude, comprehend the twining love-clasp and satisfied -heart-rest which come only of love? Thank God, woman is not too proud -to take what she so much needs. That she does not wait to comprehend -the Infinite before she can love. That she does not plant her foot, -and refuse to stir, till her guide tells her why he is leading her by -this path instead of that; and though every foot-print be marked with -her heart's blood, she does not relax her grasp or doubt his faith. - -Well may her glance, her touch, the rustle of her garments even, have -power to soothe and bless; well may the soft touch of such upon brows -knotted with the world's strife bring coolness and peace. Oh, woman, -be strong-minded as you will, if only you be pure and gentle-hearted. - - * * * * * - -While on the Woman Question I wish to say that my sympathies have -always been strongly enlisted for female teachers. Of all who go -fainting by the roadside of life, heart-sore and heart-weary, none are -more utterly so than the majority of our female teachers. A -male-teacher is, generally, able to overawe the misgoverned young -girls committed to his charge; or, if he is not, his tougher -organization precludes the possibility of that exquisite degree of -torture which _she_ endures from it. The female teacher must withdraw -to her room when the day's toil is over, quivering often with nervous -excitement, worn out, body and spirit, with the struggle for daily -bread, hungering more for sympathy and a kind word than for that; -taking to her dreams the rude superciliousness of pupils, spoiled to -her hand; the only answer possible to whom has been the burning blush -of degradation, the suppressed tear or sob. - -I shall be told that there are teachers who abuse their -trust--mercenary, ungrateful, impervious to any moral considerations. -Of course, in all professions there are those who are better out than -in it. Plenty who are trying to regulate delicate microscopic springs -with an iron crowbar. Teaching is not exempt from its bunglers and -charlatans; but, outside of this, there is the long, pale-cheeked -procession of female teachers, stretching out feeble hands from the -jostling crowd, trembling lest by some unintentional oversight of -theirs they lose the approbation of employers, and with it their means -of subsistence; bearing patiently the petty insults of willfulness, of -selfishness, of arrogance, all uncomplainingly, day by day, week by -week, month by month, as the slow years roll on; nor, is there any -help for this, as many young people are at present educated; when a -teacher, though often possessed of double the native refinement of the -taught, is considered by them merely as an upper servant, to be -quizzed, to be cheated, to be tormented, at every possible -opportunity; and with all her earnest and conscientious endeavors, to -be held responsible for the consequences of natural dullness and -premeditated sloth; and all for the grudging permission to keep soul -and body together. Many may think this an overdrawn picture. Would -that it were! - -Not long since, a young girl apologized to her private lady-teacher, -for the necessary postponement of several lessons, on account of -illness. With much feeling the teacher answered: "Do not mention it, I -beg. That is nothing. That is unavoidable. Meantime, you are always -respectful to me, always kind, always polite. _You never hurt my -feelings, mademoiselle._ Some of my pupils are so rude, so insolent; -it is very hard to teach such." Comment is unnecessary. _How_ "hard" -it must be for a gentle, refined and educated woman to endure these -things, my readers can judge. - -If any young girl should read this who has hitherto supposed that -money gave her the power to treat with disrespect such a person; that -money could remunerate her for the agony she made her endure, let her -remember that money sometimes takes to itself wings, and that there -may come a time when, seeking her daily bread, _she_ too may hunger -for the respectful appreciation she now so heedlessly withholds. - -We believe it is generally admitted that a woman of even average -acquirements can write a better letter than a man. We think there are -two good reasons for this. First, they are not above narrating the -_little_ things which bring up a person or a scene more vividly to the -mind than anything else. They write _naturally_, as they talk; while a -man takes his pen too often in the mood in which he would mount a -platform to address his "fellow-citizens," using big words, and -stiltified language. Hence a man's letters are for the most part stiff -and uninteresting. Commend us to a woman's letter when information -about home matters, or any other matters, is really needed. In making -these remarks, we do not forget a sentimental class of female -letter-writers; they are the exceptions, and any one who has patience, -may read their wordy, idea-less effusions. We cannot. Still every one -of us must remember, when absent, letters from some female member of -the family, which were worth more than all that the collected male -intellect of the household could furnish. You, and you, and you--have -them now we dare say, stained by time and perhaps tears, yet still -precious above rubies. - -There are sometimes women who develop a smart business capability -worthy of a man; but as a general thing there are few people who speak -approbatively of such a woman. No matter how isolated or destitute her -condition, the majority would consider it more "feminine," would she -unobtrusively gather up her thimble, and, retiring into some -out-of-the-way-place, gradually scoop out her coffin with it, than to -develop the smart turn for business which would lift her at once out -of her troubles; and which, in a man so situated, would be applauded -as exceedingly praiseworthy. The most curious part of it is, that they -who are loudest in their abhorrence of this "unfeminine" trait, are -they who are the most intolerant of dependent female relatives. -"Anywhere out of the world," would be their reply, if applied to by -the latter for a straw for the drowning. "Do something for yourself," -is their advice in general terms; but, above all, you are to "do it -quietly," unobtrusively; in other words, die as soon as you like on -sixpence a day, but don't trouble _us_! Of such cold-blooded comfort, -in sight of a new-made grave, might well be born "the _smart business -woman_." And, in truth, so it often is. Hands that never toiled -before, grow rough with labor; eyes that have been tearless for long, -happy years, drop agony over the slow lagging hours; feet that have -been tenderly led and cared for, stumble as best they may in the new, -rough path of self-denial. But out of this bitterness groweth -sweetness. _No crust so tough as the grudged bread of dependence._ -Blessed be the "smart business woman" who, in a self-sustained crisis -like this, after having through much tribulation reached the goal, is -able to look back on the weary track and see the sweet flower of faith -and trust in her kind still blooming. - - * * * * * - -A good honest soul once said that "all she wanted, when she got to -Heaven, was to put on a clean apron and sit still." After all, the -idea is more profound than funny. There are times in every -housekeeper's life when this would be the embodiment of Paradise. When -the head throbs with planning, contriving, and directing; when every -bone aches in the attempt to carry the programme into successful -execution; when, after having done one's best to draw to a focus all -the infinitesimal cob-web threads of careful management, some new -emergency is born of every last attempt, till every nerve and muscle -cries out, with the old woman, for Heaven and a clean apron! Of -course, after a period of carefree rest, this earth seems after all a -very nice place to stay in; but while the fit lasts, no victim of -unsuccessful love, or of sea-sickness, is more truly deserving of that -which neither ever get--_heartfelt pity_. It is well that is not the -prevailing feeling, else how could we all toil and moil, as we do, day -after day, for six feet of earth to engulf it all at last! It is well -that to painstaking mothers and delving fathers, earth seems so -_real_. Were it not so, the wheels of this world would stick fast, of -course. - -The men would hang themselves because there are three hundred and -sixty-five days in a year, and every morning of all these days, they -must button their shirt-wristbands. The women would think of nine -children and one at the breast, and every one to be worried through -the measles, scarlet fever, chicken-pox, and whooping-cough; while -Bridget and Betty would incontinently drown themselves at the -never-ending succession of breakfasts, dinners and suppers, to be -gobbled up by people constantly ringing the bell for "more." Heaven -and a clean apron! the idea is delicious. Let us hope the old woman -got it. - - * * * * * - -Speaking of Bridget and Betty, let me ask the women who read this one -question. How do you treat your household servants? "None of my -business." But it is yours; and for fear you should forget it, I take -the liberty to call your attention to it. Are they overworked? -underpaid? indifferently fed? Do you ever give them a holiday? Do you -ever lend them a book to read of a leisure evening? Do you ever give -them a leisure evening? Do you care for them when they are sick? Do -you remember that they, like yourself, have fathers, mothers, sisters, -brothers, toward whom a good word or kind action from you, might be -the pivot upon which their whole life should turn, for good or evil, -joy or sorrow? Perhaps some young girl among them, dependent and -oppressed, despondent and discouraged, to whose side you might step, -and to whose heart you might bring that delicious joy, _the sense of -protection_, for the want of which so many despairing feet turn astray -forever. - -None of my business? Make it yours, then: for a woman's heart beats in -your kitchen,--over your wash-tub,--over your ironing-table,--down in -your cellar,--up in your garret. A kind word is such a little thing to -you--so much to her. _Your_ cup is so full to overflowing,--_hers_ -often so empty, so tasteless. And kindness so wings the feet of Duty. -Think of it. - - * * * * * - -There is one thing that puzzles me about our women who live in the -country; as a general thing they might as well, it seems to us, be -without feet, for all the use they make of them, out of doors. We -cannot but think they make a mistake in tackling up old Dobbin to -convey them a mile, or a mile and a half, as the case may be, to the -village store, for any little articles of home consumption. Why not -array themselves in thick shoes fit for rough roads, and stir the -blood by a little healthful exercise? We do not believe, how active -soever their indoor occupations may be, that they can ever entirely -supersede this necessity for _out-door_ exercise. We have often -marvelled, when chance has thrown us among them for a few days, at -their slavish subserviency to horse-flesh on every trifling occasion. -They seem to regard the city visitor's preference for walking, as a -sort of lunacy, harmless perhaps, but pitiable. They see "no object," -in going over the threshold "just for a walk." Well--every one to -their taste--notwithstanding the currents of "fresh air" always to be -had by every one who lives _inside_ a country house, _we_ would not, -voluntarily, surrender the privilege of snuffing it _outside_, and -snuffing it _on foot_, too. This is our advice to both the _country_ -and the city wife. - - * * * * * - -Wife! There are no four letters in the language expressive of so much -that is holy and sweet. Wife! that is a word claimable only by one. A -man can have but one _wife_, in a Christian community! That is _her_ -proud, undisputed, indisputable, title. Let her hold on to it. - -The other day we overheard this exclamation. That _his_ wife! and a -long sigh, and ominous shake of the head followed it. The object of -this commiseration had "a genius" for a husband. Crowds of worshippers -had he--male and female, known and unknown, declared and silent. -According to them, he never opened his mouth without scattering -word-pearls. All were desirous to know him; some because they really -admired his talent; many because it made them of consequence to be his -friends. Presents of all kinds were laid at his feet and just enough -enemies had he to convince the most skeptical that he had made a -success in the world. - -And that was his wife! Good gracious! That little, plain, unpretending, -quiet body, with not even a "stylish" air to recommend her! It was -awful. _Why?_--didn't she love him? Oh, yes; how could she help it? Was -she not a good mother to his children? Oh, yes. Was she not a careful, -orderly housekeeper? Oh, yes. Was she not sensible and well-informed, -and able to take a creditable place as conversationalist at his table -and fireside? Oh, yes all of that; but _he_ should have had an elegant, -talented, brilliant wife. _No he shouldn't._ He has just the wife he -wants. A practical, common-sense woman, proud of her husband in her own -demonstrative way. Smiling quietly at the world's estimate of the -unostentatious virtues, which make his home a pattern of neatness, -order and comfort. Smiling quietly, as the conscious possessor of his -heart could afford to do, at the meddling short-sightedness which would -displace her "brilliant, talented woman," whom ten to one, even had she -good sense with her brilliancy he never would like half as well, -because God has endowed few men with magnanimity enough to rejoice in -those qualities which make a wife--like her husband--resourceful and -self-reliant. No--no, my friends, let them alone. What affair is it of -yours, if they themselves are content? Ah--but we won't believe they -_are_ content. We persist in pitying him. We could pick out twenty -splendid women with whom he would be better mated. Very like--my dear -madame;--and yourself, first of the twenty, no doubt! Pshaw! leave him -with his patient, quiet, unobtrusive, sensible, good, little, homely -wife. "A male genius"--my sentimental friend--likes a good -dinner--plenty of _kicking_ room--and a wife who, if she differs from -him in opinion, won't say so. - - - - -_A TRIP TO THE NORTHERN LAKES._ - - -I trust that it involves no disloyalty to Queen Victoria to dislike -Toronto; it is the last of her Majesty's dominions that I should -select for a residence. Its tumble-down, dilapidated aspect, its -almost total absence of adornment in architecture, or ornamentation in -shrubbery, was, I confess, very repelling to me. One excepts, of -course, what is called the "College Walk," leading to the fine new -University buildings and grounds, consisting of an entire mile of -handsome shade trees, but alas! a line-and-plummet, undeviating, -straight mile, innocent of the faintest suspicion of a curve. Still, -on the pleasant afternoon we walked there, we enjoyed it, as well as -the sight of the crowd, dressed in holiday attire, sauntering past us. -I saw no beauty in their faces, but a look of jolly health, which, to -my eye, was quite as pleasing. The young girls, perhaps, looked a -trifle too theatrical, in the little straw crowns of hats without -brim, a large ostrich feather being curled over the forehead, instead. -This head-dress, worn with quite ordinary dresses, seemed to me -incongruous, and not in good taste; but one forgives much to a sunny, -bright face, and this would be a very monotonous world, were all -individuality destroyed. It struck me that there was an immense -number of sixteen-year-old young girls in Toronto; perhaps their -mothers and aunts don't go out, or _they_ may be youthful mothers and -aunts--who knows? It struck me, too, that the Torontonians enjoyed -themselves; every face wearing a smiling, care-free expression, rare -to meet in larger places; so, if they like their pigs to run loose in -the street, who shall say them nay, provided they don't trip up the -Prince of Wales? - -It was funny to see the "beadle" standing in the cathedral porch on -Sunday morning, with his scarlet cloth collar and pompous air. If he -had the usual cocked hat belonging to his office, I didn't see it, but -he found us a good seat, and I trust we prayed for "the Queen and -Prince" after the minister, with as much zeal as any of her subjects. -The church service was indeed the best part of the performance, the -sermon being very harmless and rigidly respectable. Perhaps that was -the reason my thoughts wandered to a lad of twelve or thirteen near -by, who was starched up in a white cravat, and dressed like his -grandfather. There were some stylish equipages round the church door -as we came out, and many that were not stylish, but seemed comfortable -enough for all that. If I thought Toronto rather a "slow" place, the -fault may be in my quicksilver temperament, which sent me off by -railroad through the backwoods to Detroit, after one day's sojourn in -it. Ah! that I liked! Those grand old woods, those primeval trees, -towering and stately as "cedars of Lebanon;" those log-huts with the -bronzed mother standing in the door-way, and a group of rosy little -children about her; the woodman near by, resting on his axe at the -sound of the shrieking whistle, all unconscious how pretty a picture -he and his were making. And so on, for miles and miles, through that -bright day, we never wearied of gazing till the sun went down. When it -rose again it found us in Detroit, and quite as comfortably settled as -we could have been in the best hotel in New York. Breakfast, and then -a carriage to see the place. _Detroit will do._ There are flowers in -Detroit; there are pretty gardens and vine-festooned windows; they -make good coffee in Detroit, and grow peaches, or at any rate _sell_ -them--which answered my purpose just as well. Some of the streets and -buildings are very pretty. There are funny little market carts, -similar to those one sees in Quebec, driven about by women who sell -apples, beans and potatoes. There are plenty of stores there, and -civil salesmen. One need not cut his throat in Detroit, said I, as we -took a farewell glance from the deck of the propeller, on which we -were to glide up Lake St. Clair. It seems so strange that people will -go, year after year, through the tiresome monotony of watering-place -life; the same unvarying, uninteresting round of dressing and dancing, -when a tour of a week or more on our Northern Lakes would be so -soul-satisfying and healthful. It must be that many of them only need -reminding of its superior advantages, and the ease and comfort with -which so many hundred miles may be traversed, to undertake it. But to -enjoy it, it must be done on the right principle. If a woman, you are -not to dress up, and, striking an attitude in the ladies' saloon, take -out that everlasting crochet-work, with which so many women martyrize -themselves and their friends, to pass the time. You are to array -yourself in a rough-and-tumble-dress, with the plainest belongings; -then you are prepared to scramble up on the upper deck, to promenade -there and look about; or go into the wheel-house and ask questions of -the jolly, gallant captain; or go "down below" and see emigrant life, -among the steerage passengers; or, when the boat stops to take in coal -or freight, to jump out on the landing, and make your way, through -boxes and barrels, up into the town during the brief half-hour stay of -the boat. You are to do anything of this kind that a modest, -dignified, independent woman may always do, without regard to Mrs. -Grundy, or her numerous descendants on sea and shore. That's the way -to make the Northern Lake trip. - - * * * * * - -Eleven days without a newspaper! and yet we ate, and drank, and slept, -and grew fat, as our boat carried us farther and farther from all -knowledge of the "horrid disclosures," and "startling developments" of -fast Gotham. We were blissfully ignorant how many men choked, -poisoned, and were otherwise attentive to their wives, during those -bright days when we sat on deck, basking in the sun, with our -fascinated gaze fixed upon the bright foam-track, or upon the -sea-gulls, that, with untiring wing, followed us hundreds of miles, -now and then laving their snowy breasts in the blue waves; or, as we -gladly welcomed the smaller, friendly birds, that flew into the cabin -windows, and fluttered about the ceiling, as if glad to see new faces -in their trackless homes. We were ignorant--and contented to -be--during this tranquil period, of "mass-meetings," and "barbecues," -and "pugilistic encounters," and scrambles for office, the baptismal -name of which is "patriotism." Meanwhile the fresh wind blew on our -bronzed faces, and we glided past lovely green islands, on which -Autumn had hung out, here and there, her signal flag, warning -us--spite of the pleasant breeze--not to linger too long where the -fierce winds would soon come to lash the waves to more than old -Ocean's fury. Who could dream it, "with the blue above and the blue -below," and we so gently rocked and cradled? Who could believe -it--that heavenly evening, when we watched the sun sink beneath the -waves on one side of us, as the moon rose majestically out of them on -the other, while before us the beautiful island of "The Great Spirit," -was set like an emerald in the sapphire sea? Now and then an Indian in -his fragile canoe, with a blanket for a sail, gave us rough welcome in -passing. How could we realize on that balmy evening, that for eight -months in the year, he saw those green pines covered with snow, or -that he guided huge dogs to carry the mail, through paths accessible -only to Indian feet, or that spring and autumn were there almost -unknown, so rapidly did winter and summer, with their intense heat and -cold, succeed each other. Entranced and spell-bound we asked, Can it -_ever_ be dreary here? Hark! to that sound of music, as another boat, -homeward bound, plashes past us, with its living freight. One moment -and away! Heaven send them safety! And now picturesque little huts are -dotted in and out among the trees, along the line of shore, and the -solemn mysteries of life and death go on there too. And now, as if -every illuminated page in Nature's book were to be turned for us, -flashes up the Aurora! in long, quivering lines of light,--rose-color -and silver--till earth, sea and sky are ablaze with glory! Oh, let us -go home and gather together all who love us, (this boat would more -than hold them,) and let us _always_ live on these waters, said I; -such nice, quiet sleep in the cosy little state-rooms where one cannot -lose anything, because there is no room to lose it; and then the -pleasant surprise of the new landing-places with their Frenchy-Indian -names, and the strange but friendly faces on the pier; the mines too, -to explore in this rich country, often held by residents in the old -world; oh, you may be sure, even without Broadway, there would be no -lack of excitement on these Lakes, no more than there would be lack of -culture, refinement and intelligence among their residents; for it -must needs be men of mark who are the pioneers in these wildernesses; -men who will stand strong as do its rocks, when the waves of -discouragement dash against them, waiting the lull of winds and -storms, for the fore-ordained sunshine of prosperity. There are -_women_, too, here; not flounced and be-gemmed and useless, but -bright-eyed and fair-browed, for all that, and loving appreciatively -the wild, grand beauty of these lakes and woods, even when laggard -Winter holds them ice-bound. Nor need the traveller be surprised, on -stepping ashore, to find here a large, well-appointed hotel, with a -bill of fare no epicure need despise, especially when the far-famed -fish of these regions is set before him. - -The Indian, when asked to work, points significantly, and with -characteristic nonchalance, _to the lake_ for his answer! Spite of the -poets, I found no beauty among these people, save in the bright eyes -of one little child, who was playing outside the door of a wigwam, on -the shore of that lovely Sault River, so rich in its clustering -islands, so beautiful with its foaming rapids; miniaturing those of -Niagara. The Indians dart over and about these rapids in their -egg-shell boats with startling fearlessness. I am sorry to inform you, -by the way, that the "_nymph-like Indian maid_" wears a hoop! In this -vicinity--for one instant--I wished that I were a squaw; particularly -as she was a chief's widow, and was being rowed in a pretty canoe by -fourteen Indians, whose voices "kept tune as their oars kept time." A -nearer inspection of her opulent ladyship might have disinclined me to -the exchange, but at that distance, as her picturesque little canoe -safely coquetted with the foaming, sparkling rapids, her position -seemed enchanting. - -Homeward bound! and now we must leave all these beautiful scenes, and -say Farewell to the kind faces which greeted us so many happy "good -mornings" and "good nights." There are mementoes now before me: -mignonnette from the bright-eyed girl of "Marquette;" specimens of -"ore" from "the Doctor," of sterling value as himself; and -recollections of at least one member of the press, glad, like -ourselves, to escape from pen and ink. Ah! who has not hated to say -Farewell? - -"We must come again next summer," said we all--so said the Captain. - -Ah! the poor Captain. My eyes fill--my heart aches, as if I had known -him years, instead of those few bright, fairy days. Poor Captain Jack -Wilson, with his handsome, sunshiny face, cheery voice, and manly -ways! How little I thought there would be no "next summer" for him, -when he so kindly helped me up on the hurricane deck, and into the -cosy little pilot-house, to look about; who was always sending me word -to come "forward," or "aft," because he knew I so much enjoyed seeing -all beautiful things; who was all goodness, all kindness, and yet, in -a few hours after we left him, found a grave in that cruel surf! - -The _afternoon of the day_ we had said our _last_ "Good-bye" to him, -on the Chicago pier; we had taken a carriage to drive round the city, -and reined up at the "draw," for a boat to pass through. It was the -"_Lady Elgin_," going forth to meet her doom! We kissed our hands -gaily to her in the bright sunshine "for auld lang syne," and that -night, as we slept safely in our beds at the hotel, that brave heart, -with a wailing babe prest to it, had only that treacherous raft -between him and eternity. The poor captain! How can we give him up? As -_his_ strong arm sustained the helpless on that fearful night, may God -support his own gentle ones, or whom our hearts ache, in this their -direst need. - - * * * * * - -I never fancied going up and down stairs, nor did I like to see only -the _ankles_ of the Chicago people on a level with the carriage -windows, while riding through their streets. How any mortal gets about -those breakneck localities in the evening, with the present -insufficient means of illumination, (I except of course, the lighting -of the principal thoroughfare,) I am at a loss to conjecture. I advise -all young doctors to emigrate to Chicago; stumbling strangers at least -must yield them a rich harvest. Having lightened my conscience on this -point, I wish to add that I was delighted with Chicago; delighted with -the fine architectural taste displayed in the new buildings already -finished and in process of building. I very much admired one of the -churches in Michigan Avenue, composed of variegated stone. Some of the -private residences may safely challenge competition with any in New -York, on the score of magnificence. The principal stores are narrow, -but of an immense length, and full of choice goods; they only differ -from ours of the same class, in the fact that a little of everything -may be purchased in _each one_; instead of the usual "dry goods" -limitation. Religion and tobacco seem to be the staple products of -Chicago; the shops for the sale of the latter, having a wonderful -prominence and attractiveness, and as to churches, their name is -legion. The handsome mammoth hotel now being built, we only hoped -might be monopolized by the landlord who made _our_ stay so -comfortable. - -Notwithstanding a persistent rain, our ride through alternate woods -and prairies, from Chicago to Cleveland was quite delightful. The -luxuriance of vegetation was a constant source of pleasure to me. -There were giant trees, festooned with wild vines, and beautiful -spikes of purple and yellow flowers, tantalizing my itching fingers as -we shot past; the cars always stopping, of course, where nothing but -"Groceries" was to be seen, except in one instance, where "_Groceries -and Boarding_" made a pleasing variety. Quantities of prairie-hens -fluttered out of the long grass, as we passed, safe enough from any -gunpowder tendencies of mine, while wonderfully prolific families of -spotted pigs "took their time" to pay attention to our shrieking -whistle. _Abundance_, indeed, seemed to be written on everything, even -to the jetty coronal of hair on the head of a young, barefooted girl -of eighteen, who, alas! was smoking a long-nine in the doorway of her -log-hut. I dare say, though, that the poor thing did it in -self-defence, as I am convinced all women in this country will be -obliged to--sooner or later,--as men grow more and more selfish in -regard to the tobacco-nuisance, the _churches_ at present being the -only place where one is sure of escaping it, and I am expecting every -Sabbath to see the "curling incense" rise there. - -Political meetings had been held that day, all along our route, and -a great multitude of the unwashed, uncombed, and, for all I could -see, unshirted men, entered the cars at the various stopping-places, -shaking the rain from their manes like so many shaggy Newfoundlands; -"fust-rate fellows"--fearful at spitting and the quill-toothpick -exercise!--evidently unused to the curly specimen of female, -judging by the looks of blank astonishment with which they -regarded--open-mouthed--your humble servant. Of course, we did not -see a "rolling prairie" on this route; however, as we had just done -a little extra "rolling" on Lake Superior, perhaps it was as well -deferred till another summer. - -There is no person who has such rigid "go-to-meetin" ideas of -propriety, according to her own formula of expounding it, as your -countrywoman who seldom ventures beyond the smoke of her own chimney; -I had the misfortune to shock one irretrievably by transferring from -one of our scrambling way-station dinners an ear of corn, upon which -to regale at my leisure in the cars. If eyes turned inside out, in -holy horror could have moved me, then would that ear of corn never -been eaten; but alas! I was both hungry and independent, and Mrs. -Grundy could only turn her back and weep over one more unfortunate, -lost to all sense of decorum. A little salt however, with one's corn, -is not amiss; so I lived to chronicle it. - -It would, and did, keep on raining till we reached Cleveland, at ten -on Saturday evening. On the following Monday, unfortunately for -belated travellers, was to take place the inauguration of the Perry -monument, to which all the country for miles round were flocking, not -to mention any number of military companies and strangers from a -distance, bound on the same patriotic errand. Every hotel, and even -private residences, were crammed to the last possible extent; this, of -course, we did not know till our trunks were dumped on the wet -sidewalk, and the hackman had made his grinning exit. Ladies, wet, -hungry ladies, sat eying each other like vampires, (bless 'em!) in the -hotel parlors, while despairing cavaliers, brothers, lovers and -husbands, mopped their damp brows in the halls, after vain appeals to -demented landlords, who had turned billiard tables into couches, and -shutters into cots. These agonized fair ones, at each fresh -disappointment, could only ejaculate, faintly, "Good gracious, what's -to be done?" as they flattened their noses against the window-panes, -and took one more look into the muddy streets; and another train _yet_ -to arrive at that late hour, with four hundred more moist, hungry -wretches! Thanks, then, to the landlord, who immediately turned, for -us, his own private parlor into a bed-room, and surrounded us with -every possible comfort. - -The sun shone out brilliantly on Monday upon the beautiful city of -Cleveland, swarming with red coats, and rustics, and civilians, to see -the statue, of which they may well be proud, both on account of its -intrinsic merit, and because it is the work of a native artist. It -stands conspicuously in "Olive Park," its fine proportions in -beautiful relief against the dense foliage. We saw Cleveland in -holiday attire, it is true, but apart from that it impressed me most -agreeably, with its gigantic shade trees and pretty streets and -gardens. It is said that women surrender their hearts easily to a -military uniform. If so, it is because it stands to them as an -indorsement of the wearer's bravery and chivalry, qualities in men -which all women adore. I must confess, at any rate, to the pleasure of -looking on a large, well-filled hall of red-coats, at dinner, in our -hotel, the evening before we left. The "wait--a--a--h--s," to be sure, -seemed of the flying-artillery order, but even they seemed to take a -glorified pleasure in wearing out shoe-leather in such service! Truth -to tell, the inevitable suit of _solemn black_ worn by the universal -American masculine in this country, is getting monotonous. I noticed, -speaking of this, that every countryman who came to the show had -caught the infection, and had apparelled himself in the same -sacerdotal manner, although a suit of that color is not only uglier -and more expensive than any other, but looks infinitely worse when -dusty or worn. Who shall arise to deliver our American male population -from this funereal frenzy. - - * * * * * - -If our entrance to Cleveland just before the Perry celebration was -fraught with peril, our exit, on the day after, was a little more so. -The wise ones foreseeing the rush, anticipated it; the unwise, among -whom we were of course numbered, slept on it, and started on the -following morning, just as if nothing had happened. As a natural -consequence, when we reached the depot with our baggage there was -scarcely even standing-room, either in the long train of cars just -leaving, or in those preparing to do so. Now it is bad enough to get -up and put on your clothes inside out by gas-light. It is still worse -to eat, not because you have an appetite, but for fear you _shall_ -have, but after being "put through" this experience, and taking a last -shivering farewell of the warm bed, where you _should_ have "cuddled" -for hours, to crawl into a dark car, in a dismal depot, and tumble -over women who are already seated on portmanteaus on the car floor, -and find barely a place to stand, why it----_is_ trying? Not the -whispered consolation--"wait till the _light_ shines into the car, and -_you'll_ have a seat fast enough," (from a male friend, well versed in -railroad travel, from a masculine point of view) consoled me for the -weary five minutes I poised on one foot, at that early hour, with not -a hook to hang my basket or my hopes on. Good fortune came at the end -of that time, through annexation, in the shape of two more cars, into -one of which I was hurried, with a haste more necessary than decorous. -Ominous muttering of "half an hour behind time," met my ear, from male -mal-contents. Happy in the possession of a seat at last, and -thoroughly disgusted with such "hot haste" at daylight, I faintly -remarked that I should be content, did they not pull my seat from -under me, to sit there till doomsday. It is not the first time I've -made a rash remark: _nettle_-rash this turned out! But how was I--a -woman--to know that "half an hour behind time," meant "no right to the -road?" that it meant subservience to freight trains and every other -train, from seven o'clock that morning, to seven that blessed -evening?--that it meant, we were to sit weary hours and half-hours at -a time, in some Sahara of a country road, sucking our thumbs because -there was nothing else to suck; the previous overcrowded train having, -like locusts, devoured not "every green thing," alas! but every other -munchable edible? How did I know that, to crown the horror, the rain -would pour down in torrents at just those compulsory stopping times, -thus cutting us off even from the poor consolation of stretching our -limbs? How did I know, when I madly rejected transporting food from -the hotel, that a branch of "rum-cherries" from the hill-side, would -be my only bill of fare on that road? Ah, the babies on that train had -the best of it, on the dinner question! I borrowed one, and played -with it awhile, not with any cannibal ideas, though it was wonderfully -plump. A strange gentleman who had strayed off into the woods while we -were waiting, came in and graciously offered me "a posy for my baby;" -I glanced at the mother; her eye was on me! so I replied as I took -the posy, "It is not my baby, it is borrowed, sir;" which was a pity, -for it really was a miraculous bit of baby-flesh! - -Meantime, as there was no food for the body, and no prospect of any, -till evening, I tried to improve my mind by listening to the -conversation of two old farmers near, by which I learned how to choose -"a caow;" and how, even with the greatest caution, the buyer may be -awfully taken in on the milk question; also I learned "how to treat -_medder_ land," and "how to keep _them_ skippers from getting into -cheese;" after which, I heard the speaker's touching experience, in -escaping, after many year's captivity, from the thraldom of king -_Tobacco_--which came about in this wise: that "when his _woman_ did -him up a clean shirt, the bosom would allers be spiled after the first -mouthful;" also "that his neighbors' wimmen-folks, didn't like to have -their carpets spotted up, and were not overglad to see him come into -their houses, on that account; and so it came that he got disgusted -with himself, and _giv_ it up altogether"; and "it was _his_ opinion -that it was all nonsense for any feller to say he _couldn't_ break -off, when the fact was that he _wouldn't_." - -If I didn't pat the old farmer on the back, for the common sense of -that remark, it was not because I didn't fully indorse it; nor did I -fail to sympathize with his chagrin afterwards, when he remarked with -a sigh, as he looked out of the car window, "it is such a pity my farm -aint down this way. I might make my independent fortin now, selling -small notions; for instance, look at them flowers in that -_gardin_--it is astonishing how much money can be made now-a-days, -just selling _bokys_." Our farmer was very human, too, for, just then, -as we stopped for a minute, a young girl rushed up to the car-window -to say a hurried "how d'ye do," to an old man. "That's a very nice -gal, _only to get a shake of the paw_" said he, compassionately. Well, -we worried through that long day as best we might, the poor children -in the company half beside themselves with fatigue and hunger; and the -men talking loudly about "swindling railroad companies," and -threatening "to make a noise about it," when they reached their native -Frog-town. After stopping about dark at a miserable place to get a -miserable supper, we proceeded on the few remaining miles to -Pittsburg. The glowing red lights of the great smelting furnaces, -across the river, as we approached the city, looked very cheerful, -through the fog, and gave promise of the warm reception of which we -stood so greatly in need. Our troubles were over, as soon as we landed -at the principal hotel, where solid, substantial comfort as well as -luxury awaited us; in the shape of immense beds, with pillows whose -sides did not cling together for want of feathers, as is too often the -case in very pretentious hotels; in plenty of towels, in plenty of -bed-clothes, and in a lookout from the window on the "levee" and -across the river, upon the heights of Mount Washington, which we -sleepily remarked we should be sure to explore the next morning. -Fortified by a splendid night's rest, and a luxurious breakfast we -_did_ do it, spite of fog and threatening clouds. Up--up--up--till it -seemed as if, like aerial voyagers, we were leaving the world behind -us. But what a sight when we reached the summit! How like little -birds' nests looked the houses dangerously nested beneath those rocky, -perpendicular cliffs! Nor was "the solitary horseman" wanting, -"winding round the brow of the hill," for there were houses and farms, -and overhanging fruit-trees, and above all, a placard on a fence, with -the announcement that the hours for this school for the young were -from nine till twelve in the morning, and from two till four in the -afternoon. Thank heaven! said I, that there is _one place_ where -health is considered of some importance in education. Seeing a coal -mine near, my companion proposed we should penetrate a little way into -its dark depths. A lad with a donkey-cart had just preceded us, with a -small lamp fastened to his cap in front. He looked doubtfully at my -feet, and mentioned the bugbear word "dirt." I replied by gathering my -skirts in my hand, and following the donkey cart. Smutty enough we -found the reeking pit, as we inhaled the stifling, close atmosphere. -Its black sides seemed closing round me like a tomb, and when the last -ray of daylight from the entrance had quite disappeared, and only the -rumbling of the cart-wheels could be heard, like the roar of some wild -beast, and only the glimmer of the miner's lamp could be seen, like -the glare of its wild eyeball, all the woman came over me, and I -begged humbly "to be taken out!" With what satisfaction I emerged into -the daylight, and greeted the bright sun which just then shone out, -and plucked from the overhanging mouth of the dark pit, which -compassionate nature had draped fantastically with a wild vine, a -pretty blossom, which looked so strangely beautiful _there_, some of -my readers can imagine. With what zest I tried my limbs, scaled -precipices, and jumped from cliff to cliff, to make sure of, and -assert my vitality, both present and to come, in this breathing, -living, sunshiny, above-ground world of flowers and fruits and blue -sky, my astonished fellow traveller, who for the moment doubted my -sanity, will bear witness. - -And now, as to Pittsburgh itself, apart from its romantic bluffs and -their surroundings, and out of its principal hotel, which is decidedly -one of the best I ever entered, it is the dismalest, sootiest, -forlornest of cities that I ever stumbled into. Let me do justice to -the enormous peaches and very fine fruits found in its market-place. -Let me do justice to the independence of a female we saw wending her -way there, on horseback, with a basket on each side of the saddle, -beside another on her arm, not to mention a big cotton umbrella and a -horsewhip. We were to rise again, wretched fate! in the middle of that -night, to proceed to Philadelphia, on our way home. On reaching my -room, and glancing into my looking-glass, I perceived the necessity -for the unusual outlay of towels in our bed-room; for what with the -visit to the coal-pit, and general atmospheric sootiness of -Pittsburgh, my most intimate friends would scarcely have recognized -me through the black mask of my complexion. Let me, however, do -Pittsburgh this justice: it is a most picturesque and interesting -town, and well worth the intelligent, or even the curious, traveller's -visit. - - * * * * * - -Oh, the unutterable dreariness of an hotel parlor at two o'clock in -the morning, as you sleepily tumble down stairs at the call of the -inexorable "waitah" to take the midnight train of cars. How your -footsteps echo through the long, wide, empty halls, you thought so -pleasant the evening previous, with their bright lights and flitting -forms--tenanted now only by spectral rows of boots and shoes before -the doors of still happy sleepers, or by the outline form of the -swaggering Hercules who bears your trunk. Shiveringly you draw your -blanket-shawl about your shoulders, and sink down on the drawing-room -sofa, deferring till the last possible moment your egress into the -foggy, out-door air. Julius Cæsar Agrippa enters the drawing room, and -placing upon the cold silver salver a cold silver pitcher of -ice-water, politely offers you a glass. Good heavens! your hair stands -on end at the thought of it. "If it were hot coffee, now!" you faintly -mutter at him, from beneath the folds of your woollen shawl. His -repentant "Yes, ma'am, wish I had it for you," rouses you from the -contemplation of your own pitiable situation, to ask the poor wretch -(confidentially) if he has to stand there on one leg _every_ midnight, -in that way, contemplating cross travellers like yourself. Whereupon -he tells you, with a furtive glance over his shoulder, that "it is -every third night;" and just then you notice that a gentleman in the -hall, with a valise attached, has just slipped something into Julius -Cæsar's hand; and pretty soon you see another gentleman go and do -likewise, and so, gradually, it gets through your curls that it mayn't -be so bad after all, for this perquisited Julius Cæsar "to sit up -every third night:" and humiliated at having been caught the -forty-hundredth time throwing away your sympathy, you sheepishly obey -the summons to "come," and forthwith pitch into the "Black Maria" that -is waiting at the door to jolt your shivering bones to the depot. -Everybody in it looks sullen, and everybody's shoulders seem to be -buttoned on to their ears. Not even a grunt can be extorted from a -mother's son of them, by the roughest pavement. Silent, stoical -endurance is written on every Spartan! And so you are all emptied at -last, pell-mell into the cars, after kicking at offered peanuts and -cold, slimy oranges, and one by one, ties himself (you notice I use -the masculine gender) into double knots on his respective seat. - -Daylight creeps gradually on, after weary hours of twisting and -turning. Your strange male vis-á-vis has overslept himself, and you -have been, meanwhile, maliciously watching to enjoy his discomfited -waking from that awkward posture, knowing, as you well do, that vanity -has no sex. He starts, and takes a look at you; then he rubs his -eyes--combs out the pet lock of hair on his forehead with his -fingers, gives his disarranged moustache a scientific twist, -straightens out a wrinkle on his coat, turns down the collar, which -has all night harbored his nose, gets up and gently stamps his pants -down over his boots, settles his hat at the accustomed knowing angle, -draws on his gloves and looks at you, as if to say, Come now, you see -I am not such a bad looking fellow, after all! Of course you don't -notice the varlet; you are very busy just then with the "prospect." - -Between our midnight leave of Pittsburg and daylight, I was conscious, -as we darted through the fog, how much we were losing in the way of -scenery. Oh, those sublime Alleghany Mountains, and that lovely -Juniata winding round and through them. I have no words to express my -sense of their beauty, and my unalloyed delight. I trust the coroner's -inquest will be deferred on me till I drink that draught of pleasure -again. Of course, through the narrow limits of the car window, and -where one can only see one side of the way at a time, too, my -tantalization was next door to lunacy. In vain I twisted my neck, and -bobbed my bonnet, and, in child fashion grabbed at so much that I -nearly lost all. Not _all_! for enough is left to dream over with -closed eyes, when the dreary winter snows shall drive against the -windows. Had I not been strictly enjoined by _Mr._ Fern never to jump -a judgment, of a town, from a bird's-eye view out of a car window, I -should quarrel with Harrisburg, situated in that gem of a valley, for -resting so satisfied with nature's work, as to ignore any adornment -of art, as well as with some _other_ places near, and for the same -reason. Come to think of it, I _will_ assert my feminine right to -declare that it is a shabby little town, and a disgrace to those -kingly mountains, and Mr. Fern may like or dislike it. - -Profiting by our experience of a day's compulsory fast from Cleveland -to Pittsburg, we bargained with the head-waiter at the latter place, -to fit us out with a lunch-basket, thus rendering us independent of -the way-stations, where half the time is spent in fumbling out your -money, and the rest in making change, the whistle sounding just as you -get possession of your knife and fork. As hot tea and coffee are now -sold _on the platform_, quite independent of the general scrambling -feeding-room, if your luncheon-basket is furnished with a cup or mug -to put it in, you may of course snap your fingers at fate. Railroad -people and way station providers have jointly themselves to thank for -being outwitted by the well-provided "luncheon-basket;" the -convenience of which, especially where there are children in the -party, and about one waiter in the feeding hall to two dozen people, -and ten minutes to fight for food is plainly manifest; not to speak of -the economy as it regards temper and digestion. Let me do justice, -however, to _one_ obscure way-station, where a friend and myself were -the fortunate discoverers of a squirrel-pie, with which, alas! we had -all too brief an acquaintance. A certain "Oliver Twist" near us, -scenting the secret, called for "more;" whereupon the buxom young -woman in attendance replied, "that she was sorry, but the _squirl_-pie -was all _out_." It struck me that the word _in_ would have been more -significant, but I didn't mention it. - - * * * * * - -I don't think my worst enemy can say that I am often betrayed in -showing politeness to females. I trust I know my own sex too well, so -miserably to waste my time. Once, on my journey, I waived this well -known article in my creed, in favor of an unprotected one who was -seated next me at table. Every woman but herself, had one of the male -species to stand between her and the--"how not to do it"--landlord and -his satellites;--to have been more truthful I should have put this -last word in the singular number. There was nothing preposessing about -the woman; she was wiry and angular, and had a horrible trick of -snuffing; perhaps it was all these that made me insane enough to pity -her, as she sat there gazing into her empty plate, with a sort of dumb -despair. What goodness may be enshrined in that repulsive face and -form, I said to myself; how tenderly she may, in happier days, when -younger and more attractive, have been watched and cared for; and how -wretched to have only the _memory_ of such things in this solitary -place; so I just snatched some eggs that after unheard efforts to -obtain, Mr. Fern had fondly hoped to regale himself upon, and offered -them to her. Did that female thank me by a word, or even a glance? Ye -gods? Didn't she take those eggs as if she had laid them herself? -"Good enough for you Fanny," muttered I; "one would think you were old -enough by this time, to know better." I didn't say any wicked words; -it is not my way. Shortly after, the damsel who waited on us, and who -employed the intervals when dishes were preparing in running up stairs -to attend to her toilet:--First course being, no hoop, and -bread-and-butter. Second course, crinoline and poached eggs. Third -course, ear-rings and mutton-chop. Fourth course, ringlets and -apple-pie;--this girl, I say, sat before me, at my own private, -personal request, a plate of tea-biscuit. The unprotected female -looked at them--so did I. Presently she poked me in the ribs and -imperatively requested "_them_ biscuit." Shade of Lindley Murray! you -should have seen how civilly I informed her that they were destined -for my luncheon-basket, but that doubtless the damsel in waiting would -attend to any of _her_ orders for food, as she had to mine. You should -have seen the "unprotected female" at that moment. She was a panting, -panther-like, gasping monument of philanthropy ill-directed.--Peace to -her irate bones. - -The butter, cheese, and other dairy (I wonder if the type-setters will -print this _daily_) delicacies of Philadelphia, are no longer a matter -of marvel to me, after travelling through Pennsylvania, and viewing -its admirable farms, unencumbered by a weed or stone or thistle, and -as far as foliage and fruit gave evidence, by any noxious vegetable -insect; and enclosed by fences in perfect order and repair. Not an -unsightly object about barn, house or garden; the very genius of -thrift and neatness seemed pervading and presiding over all. It was -indeed a delight to see them, although I was not unaware of the years -of patient, careful tillage which had brought them to such a point of -perfection. True--there might have been more flowers and vines, about -their very neat dwellings, without endangering the Quaker's title to a -seat among the blessed in a future state; for I never _will_ believe -that if He who made this bright world, approved of universal drab, he -would have tinted the rose such a beautiful pink, or the morning-glory -such a heavenly blue, or the grass such a cool, eye-satisfying-green; -but for all that, were I queen of the country, the Quakers should -believe and wear what they pleased, as I would myself. - -We entered Philadelphia just at sunset, and rattled through Chestnut -Street just as it was looking its brightest and best with its -well-stocked shops, its belles and its beaux, and its bran-new -Continental, where we longed to stop, had we not given our word to -reach New York that night. I liked Philadelphia from the first moment -I put my foot there, some years ago. - -It always seemed so cosy, home-like,--and comfortable; one might, one -thinks, be so domestic and sensible there, while in New York it is -next to impossible to be sensible, with the very best intentions. So -I left Philadelphia with real regret, thinking of friends to whom I -would gladly have said, even a brief "how d'ye do." May I be allowed -to ask who invented the torturing style of cars from Philadelphia to -New York, with wooden panels where windows should be, and seats -divided off into spaces, narrow as a bigot's creed? It may be all very -well for spinsters and bachelors, but as I don't belong to either -class, and as I like a shoulder to sleep on when I have travelled -since the previous midnight, it was just simply infamous to shut me -off, and bar me up from it by that ridiculous partition; in vain I -bobbed my bonnet, and got a crick in my neck, trying to reach the -shoulder to which I was legally entitled without a permit from any -railroad company. In vain I doubled my travelling shawl and piled it -on that shoulder, and tried to annex my head to it that way; in vain I -rose in my might and looked viciously at the wooden pane which should -have been a window, and whimpered out, "Oh I'm _so_ tired!" in vain -Mr. Fern and I corkscrewed ourselves into all sorts of shapes, and -asked each other, with a grim attempt at jest, "if they called that an -accommodation train." Thank heaven, said I, if we _do_ live to reach -New York, a hot supper and a warm welcome awaits us! And now, seated -at ease in mine inn, I wish to wind up these articles with a whisper -to landlords generally: - -First:--Don't _always_ fasten the looking-glass in a lady's bed-room -in the very _darkest_ corner, or attach it to some lumbering piece of -furniture incapable of being moved, save by an earthquake. - -Secondly:--Give ladies four bed-pillows instead of two, until geese -yield more feathers. - -Thirdly:--Banish forever, with other tortures of the Inquisition, that -infernal "gong," (excuse the expression,) which has had so much to do -in filling our Lunatic Asylums. - - -THE END. - - - * * * * * - -Transcriber's Notes: - -A few obvious misprints have been corrected, but in general the -original spelling has been retained (for example, "of tourse," -"beneneath," etc.). Inconsistent use of hyphens was also left -unchanged. - -Contents page: "MOURNING" p. 240; This was treated as a chapter in the -text, but was missing from the Contents Page. It has been added. Other -slight variations between the Contents list and Chapter headings were -left as in the original. - -P. 284, paragraph immediately before "Last week a philanthropist" -ended with in-line asterisks and an extra blank line--the only case in -this text, and not an apparent thought-break. I have included those -asterisks and blank line as in the original for the reader's -interpretation. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Folly as It Flies, by Fanny Fern - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOLLY AS IT FLIES *** - -***** This file should be named 40263-8.txt or 40263-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/2/6/40263/ - -Produced by sp1nd, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -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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