San Andreas independent., 1858-09-11
Parlor Daughters,

mothers too, just listen moment, for
have short story to tell you; and per-
haps at the close of it, we will find a
"moral," and perhaps sermon.
A few days since, | called upon young
lady. | may as well say that, having been
considerably Impressed by her beauty
and brilliant conversation at several even
ing social parties, | had resolved to prose
cute the acquaintance. | will not affirm
that there had not foated vaguely about
in my brain certain pleasing rose colored
+" Bachelors reveries," !" in which figured
conspicuously the beaming face and ele-
giant figure of Miss E.
Be that as it may, [ called; and, being
ushered into the parlor, | sat down, and
awaited with some impatience the appear
ance of the lady.
My attention was soon arrested by voices
in an adjoining apartment, and the door
being ajar, was perforce listener.
ooh, Carrie said very weak voice,
if you would only have assisted me three
hours day, this attack might have been
averted; but now tbs too late. | know
that weeks, if not months of illness, are
before me. | am all tired out
why, mother, replied voice, almost
petulantly-I had admired in the even
ing previous for its spirited yet amiable
tones why, mother, nobody does kitchen
work now; at least, nobody that is any
body Just think of Mrs Smythe, or
Miss Brown, or Mrs. Soule, associating
with your kitchen girl, with her dingy
hands. Why, the idea is absurd and
besides, hate housework.'
WELL replied the invalid voice, Il
don't know what would have been thought
of your assisting me about the house a
few hours each day-but l do know, that
for the want of this help, [ am now i'll.
Yes, Carrie, for the want of your help, |
have been obliged to overtask myself.
Miss E. soon made her appearance with
her winning smile, gay laugh, and bril-
liant repartee; but, somehow, the image
of her overtasked mother constantly came
between her and my previous admiration;
so, after few ill-at-ease attempts at con-
versation, | took my leave.
AS [ slowly walked away, musing-"a
change came o 'er the spirit of my dreams.
A daughter who "hateth housework' to
such degree as to allow her mother to
get " all tired OUT" and ill, from being
"overtasked" could such a daughter
become that most inestimable boon this
side of Heaven, good wife?
What if her husband had wealth, and
filled his house with troops of servants ;
could he have a quiet, neat, well-ordered
home? Would his children have true
mother? No. A parlor daughter will
make parlor acife. Brilliant, fascinat-
ing-a rare and costly ornament-chal-
longing the admiration of the world, it
may be, but never the holy source and
centre of the comfort and peace of her
family.
And thus rudely my rose -colored rev.
cries were changed to sombre- -hued reali-
ties; queried, was Miss D. an exception
to this rule? How many young ladies of
my acquaintance were really helps to
their mothers in domestic affairs? How
many would not blush with shame at be-
ing seen making bread-not cake, but
bread ! How many could cook and get
on the table good dinner, or superintend
and direct such an undertaking? How
many to whom the old-fashioned " dish
cloth" is not " horrid thing?" How
many could starch and iron shirt bosom
or collar, SO it would look respectfully?
Alas how few could | recall who
would not properly be numbered in the
long list of those to whom these things
were not only mysterious, but absolutely
disagreeables and undesirables.
say "alasl" for it is sad thing, not
only for us young men, the future hus
bands of these frail lilies of the field,
who I" toll not, neither do they spin" but
to the daughters themselves.
Look at them look at yourselves,
young ladies. Where is the round, plump,
solid arm and cheek of your grandmother,
at your age? Where is her power of en-
durance, her exuberant spirit, depressed
by no circumstances her energy and self
reliance equal to any emergency and
where in the future are you to obtain
strength to pass unscathed through the
perils of maternity, as did sheY Look
around you at the young wives and moth
ers; what pitiable specimens of feminine
humanity; what discouraged, disheart-
ened objects of commisseration what ira
ces of pain and illness are written upon
their shrunken visages before the fifth
anniversary of the q honeymoon.
Look at the unhappy countenances of
half the young husbands you meet. Do
they not speak of pleasing anticipations,
followed by unpleasant realities2 How
many a husband, who in his bachelor days
fondly dreamed of blithe, cheerful, neat
housewife, whose lark life song should
testify each morning that household du-
ties were well spring of pleasure, has
found, by sad experience, the wide differ
ence between romance and reality. And
how many young man of marriagble age
and fine prospects, seeing the rude dis
pelling of this or that companions dream
of domestic enjoyment, takes warning and
holds himself sternly aloof from all mat
rimonial entanglements. [ assure you,