The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-09-12
Belinda Rree.
THE BOSTON sEANsrREss, AND HER NEv
HAMPSHIRE NEICE.
d. Mns. a. D. =. wHITNEY.

THE BOSTON sEANsrREss, AND HER NEW
HAMPsIIIRE NEICE.
by Mrs. a. d T. WHITNEY.
Bel was named for her Aunt Belinda.
| Miss Belinda Bree came up for week,
sometimes, in the summer, to the farm.
] All the rest of the year she worked hard
in the city. She put a good face upon
/ it in her talk among her old neighbors.
She spoke of the grand streets, the pa
rades, Dukes balls-for which she made
dresses-and jubilees, of which she
heard afar off-as if she were part and
parcel Of all Boston enterprise and mag
nificence. 1t was a great thing, truly,
to live in the Hub. Honestly, she had
not got over il, since she came there, n
raw country girl, and began her appren-
| ticeship to its wonders and to her own
trade. She could not turn water fau-
Get, nor light her gas, nor count the
strokes of the electric fire alarm, with
out feeling the grandeur of having
COchituate turned on TO wash her hands
of making her own little spark of the
grand illumination under which the
three hills shown every night-of dwell
ing within ear-shot and protection of the
quietly imposing system of wires and
bells that worked by lightning against
a fierce element Of daily danger. She
was proud of policemen; she was thrilled
at the sound of steam engines thunder
ing along the pavements; she felt as
though she had hand in it. When
they fired guns upon the Common, she
could only listen and look out Of win
dows; the little boys ran and shouted
for her in the streets; that is what the
little boys are for. Somebody must do
the running and the shouting TO relieve
the instincts of older and buster people,
who must pretend as if they didn't care.
: All this kept Belinda Bree from ut
terly wearing out at her dull work i'm
the great ware-rooms, or now and then
at days seamstressing in families. 1t
really keeps great many people from
wearing out.
Miss Bree's work was dull. The days
of her early 'mantua-making'' were
over. Twenty years had made things
very different in Boston. The "nice
families had been more quiet then; the
quietest of them now cannot manage
things rs they did in those days; for
the same reason that you cannot buy
Old-fashioned ''wearing" goods; they
are not in the market. "Sell and wear
out; wear out and SELL" that is the
principle of to-day. You must do as
the world does; there is no other path
cut LuAUuEAl- II Ou Al1NGlf YOU must
keep on night and day, or wait twenty
four hours and start in the night again.
NobOdy-or scarcely anybody-has Il
dress-maker now, in the old, cOzy way,
of the old coy sort, staying a week,
looking over the wardrobes ofthe whole
family, advising, cutting, altering, re-
marking, getting into ever so much
household Interest and history over the
daily chat, and listening over daily
work; sitting at the same table; linking
herself i'm with things, spring and fall,
rs the leaves do with their goings and
comings; or like the equinoXes, that in
March or September shut about us with
friendly curtains of rain for days, in
which so much can be done in the big
upstairs room with q cheerful fire, that
is devoted to the rites and mysteries Of
scissors and needle. We were always
glad, / remember, when our dress
making week fell in with the Equinoc-
tial.
But now, all poor Miss Bree's 'best
places" had slipped away from her, and
her life had changed. People 90 to
great outiitting stores, buy their goods,
have themselves measured, and leave
the whole thing to result q week after
ward in big box sent home with every
thing fitted and machined and finished,
with the last inventions and accumula-
tions, frills, tucks, and reduplications;
and at the bottom of the box n bill
tucked and reduplicated in the same
modern proportions. Miss Bree had
now to go out, like any other machine
girl, to the ware-roOms; except when
she took home particular hand-work OF
button-holes and trimmings, or occa-
sionally engaged herself for two or three
; days to some family mother who could
I not pay the big bills, and who ran heI
I own machine, cut her own basques and
cores, and hired help for basting and
finishing. She had almost done with
u even this; most people liked young
: help; brisker with their needles, sew
n ing without glasses, nicer and fresher-
: looking to have about. Poor "Aunt
: Bin" overheard one man ask his wife
+ in her dress-room before dinner: "Why
if she must have stitching woman in
: the house, she couldn't find a more
comfortable one to look at; somebody 8
{ little bright and cheerful TO bring tC
g the table, instead of that old callari.
# per?"
. Miss Bree behaved like a saint; il was
= not the lady's fault; she resisted the
j temptation TO a sudden headache, anC
declining her dinner, for fear of hurting
d the feelings of her employer, who haC
always been kind to her-she would no
(, let her suspect or be afraid that the
u speech had come to her ear-shC
y smoothed her thin old hair, took of hel
glasses, wiped her eyes little, washed
j, her hands, and went down when she
was called; but after that day she "lef
e off going out to work for families
The warehouses did not pay her very
/ well; neither there was she able to com
= pete with the smart young seamstresses
she only got dollar and a quarter ;
Is day, and had to lodge and feed herself
yet she kept on; it was her lot and liv
l. ing; she looked out at the third-storl
10 window upon the roofs and spires, lis
tened TO the fire alarms, heard tn,
IL chimes of Sunday, saw carriages rol
by and well-dressed people moving 4
p and fro, felt the thrill of the daily bus
tie, and was, after all, a part Of thi
y great, beautiful Bostoni Strang
Id though it seem, Miss Belinda Rree wa
Il content.
Content enough to tell charminl
stories Of it up in the country to he
niece Bel, when she was questioned b,
her. OF her room all to herself, so warn
IN winter, with a red carpet (giveu he
he by the very Mrs. "Cailariper.u VIII
IN could not help misgiving, after all
OF that Miss Bree's vocation had bee
IN ended with that wretched world and
d, coal stove, and big, splendid, brindle
ne cat-Bartholomew-lying before it, G
e. her snug little housekeeping, wit
ne klndlings in the closet-drawer, and milk
I'd jug out on the stone window-sill; of tn
Is music mistress ubo had fIa room, H.