The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1874-11-07
SNisceLlaneous.
HOEiu0US J0r MiCtCIEe-A A0e.

UtIScelldWeOuS.
HOEiCt0yS I0r lIidtICe-AOe.
| Now that the fires beginning to burn on
library and parlor hearths in e evenings, and
the curtains to be drawn close, and the most
devout lover Of Nature gives up the stroll in
shady lanes, or the row on the moonlt river,
| and comes in doors for the winter, 1T is worth
while to consider what is 10 be done indoors.
The work is ready for every body who chooses
| to do it; but the relaxation, the rest, the stim-
| ulant, which is to fit us for the work-what is
that to be? For fashionable classes, this ma ter
| of amusement is ruled in almost as iniexb BILE
| grooves as drudgery for the poor; for men or
young people, too, it adjusts itself naturally
| The father of family has his clubs, his share
| in the political or church meeting, or, at least,
his quiet newspaper, cigar and slippers,
at home-precisely the drowsy reaction he
needs after the friction of the busy day. The
boys and girls have their concerts, their lee
| lures, the thousand devices of "sociables," "a, :
cdentals," ETC., by which they contrive to flock
together, to chirp like young birds in May, and,
perhaps, to mate like them. But the wives
and mothers, the great aggregate of women, no
longer young-what is to be their tonic? They
certainly need o tonic. The American mother
| of a family is the real maid of all work in it,
and the more faithful and intelligent she is, the
more she usually tries to deserve the name
She may work with her hands or not lin the
large majority of cases, she does work with her
hands,) but it is she who, in any case oversees
| and gives life to dozen different interests
| Her husbands business, the boys education,
the girls standing in society, the baby's teeth
| ing, the sewing and housework for them al,
are all processes which she urges on and which
rasp and fret daily and hourly on her brain
| very dull, unsklled brain, too often, but al
almost always quite willing to wear itself out
for those she loves. Whether it would be nobler
| or more polite in her to shirk this work,-hus
band, babies and house,-and develop her la
tent talents as physician, artist or saleswoman,
is not the question with us just now. A few
women have done this. In the cities, too,
money can remove much of the responsibility
from the mistress of household but the great
aggregate of wives and mothers in this country
are domestic women who ask nothing better of
fate than that whatever strength they have of
body and mind shall be drained for their hus-
bands and children. Now this spirit of martyr.
dem is very good thng-when it is necessary.
For our part we can see necessity for it here.
We are told that the womens wards in the in
sane asylums, in New England, are filled with
| mddle-aged wives, mothers driven there by
| overwork and anxiety; through the rest of the
| country the popular type of the woman of forty
is neither fat nor fair, but sallow, anxious
eyed creature, with teeth and hair furnished by
the shops, and liver and nerves which long
ago took her work, temper, and, we had almost
said, religion out of her control. This rapid de-
| cay of our women may be owing partly to eli
| matte influence, but it is much more due to the
| wear and tear of their motherhood, and ankle
| ty to push their children forward, added to the
| incessant petty rasping of inefficient domestic
service.
A mans work may be heavier, but is single,
it wears on him on one side only; he has his
hours sacred to business, to give to his brief,
his sermon, his shop; there is no drain on the
|
hour sacred to this or to that; he brings his
trouble to her and it is her duty to comprehend
and aid him, while her brain is devising how
to keep her boy Tom away from the compan-
ions who brought him home drunk last night !;
how to give Jenny another year of music les
sons; how 10 contrive cloak for the baby out
of her old merno; the burning meat in the
kitchen all the while setting her nerves in a
CULVER" She has not power of mind, a skill
of body which her daily life does not draw up
on. Her husband comes and goes to his Office
the out door air, the stir, the change of ideas,
the passing word for this man or that, uncon-
| sciously refresh and lift him from the canker-
ing care of the work She has the parlor, the
dining room, the kitchen, to shut her into it,
day after day, year after year. Women, with
out single actual grief in the world, grow
morbid and ill tempered, simply from living
in doors, and resort to prayer to conquer their
crossness, when they only need walk of a
| couple of miles, or some wholesome amusement.
1t is a natural craving for this necessity
ties and sewing circles which men ridicule as
absurd and tedious.
There is no reason why our women, who are
notably rational and shrewd in the conduct of
the working part of life, should cut themselves
off thus irrationally from the necessary relax
alton, or make it either costly or tedious. Let
every mother of a family who reads Scribner
resolve not to put off her holidays until old age,
but to take them all along the way, and to
bring good share of them into this winter
Let her give no ball, no musical evenings, no
hot, perspiring tea parties, but manage to have
her table always prettily served and comforta-
bly, provided, and her welcome ready for any
friend who may come to it; let her set apart
an evening, if possible, when her rooms shall
be open to any pleasant friend who will visit
her; the refreshment to be of the simplest
kind and, above all, if the table chance not to
be we'll served, or the friends are not agreeable,
let her take the mishap jest, and meet all
difficulties with an easy good humor. 1t is not
necessary to take every bull of trouble by the
horns; if we welcome and nod to them as to
cheerful acquaintances they will usually troi
bv on the other side of the road.
Let her take our prescription for the winter
and our word for it the spring will find fresher
roses in her cheeks and fewer wrinkles in her
husbands head.-"Rome and Society,"" IN
Scribner's for November.