The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1881-10-26

work, and mother was one OF thos'
domestic burden-bearers who never
consider their burden so heavy bu
/ that they can add another trihc.
Father had never been fortunate
pecuniarly and being anxious te
give all their children q good educa.
ton, the labor of saving for this end
was added to their other toll. And
then, like many another good anc
unselfsh, but unwise mother, she
allowed us our own way, and spoil.
Cd us through indulgence and SO
we had often heard her say sh,
would rather do thing herself thar
take the trouble to show US how, we
felt as though we were actually con.
ferring Il favor upon her By letting
things alone. TO be sure we could
sweep, dust, wash dishes and make
beds, ard were familiar with some
OF the minor details of cookery
but 70 be able to keep the domestic
machine well oiled and in constant
motion was to us like trying to con.
verse in an unknown tougue. And
so now, withoutan adequate knowl.
edge fwork and its responisbili-
ties, VIC found ourselves with a
mountain Of difficulties tosumount
and pretty mess we made in few
DAYS, too. 1t was not difficult to
get through supper, for thanks to
mothers provident hands there was
plenty prepared for that meal, but
when, next morning, we found the
bread was out, cookies all gone, and
not stray pie for dinner, our trou-
bles began-and they broadened and
deepened with every passing mo-
ment, as we became painfully aware
that making bread and pastry was
branch of our education which had
been terribly neglected and when,
about 10 o'clock, father, in blissful
ignorance OF the novices in charge at
home, sent up surloin roast and
the information that a stranger
would dine with us, and fifteen min
utes later the washwoman brought
in the clothes for rs to iron, | was
ready to meltinto tears, and Kate
was so cross it was dangerous to
speak to her. Oh, that weary, weary
day But only the beginning of
many similar ones that followed it.
How we longed for mothers skillful
hands to straighten ont the tangled
threads our awkward fingers had
managed to produce. There was
something TO be done from early
morning till late at night so that
no sooner did we fancy ourselves
free for half an hour than some du-
ty undone would stare US in the
flee, or the children would come in
with clamoring tongues and empty
stomachs, and in few days | be-
came addicted 10 chronic fretfulncss,
while Kate was transformed into
a veritable scold. John scowled
over the miserable meals, Kate teas
cd us in every vulnerable point !;
but poor, patient father pitied our
often iTlfirTnities, -1rstidts what was
set before him for conscience sake.
Ii went on this way for about a
fortnight, when, after 4 very trying
day, We took our books and sat
down for a qaiet evening. But alas
for our hopes only ten minutes Of
peace. and then an honest "ahen"
from father caused Us to look up.
ADO you know, girls" he inquir-
ed, whether mother mended my
pants before she went away ? /
should like them to put on in the
morning. She generally did her
mending every week, | believe"
There !" burst out Kate. shut
ting her book with bang, while /,
after one desponding glance at the
fascinating pages of David Copper
field, went TO examine the mend
ing basket.
It was full to the brim shirts,
socks, littl gingham coats with the
pockets torn down and buttons pull
ed half of, with shreds of cloth
hanging TO them, fathers pants and
Nellies school dress, with a great
rent clear across the front. With a
doleiul sigh / lifted the basket and
without a word we sat down to the
unwelcome task. Nine, ten o'clock
came and went, and the basket was
not half emptied of its contents.
Father, John, Ross, and Nellie ga
ped and stretched, and one by one
followed the children off to bed.
Eleven and still we sat, silent and
grim as ghosts, solemnly stitching
away at the endless rents.
Cad, said Kate, at last, Jerking
out the words rs ifshe hated them,
show do you like it ?"
Like what ~ ] asked in aston
ishment.
This life OF slavery. This hum
drum, everlasting stick,to-it, unsatis-
factory existence. Withouth speck Of
spice in the way OF variety about it.
Just over and over around and
around, until we seek our rest low
in the ground.p
"Oh, Kate p | exclaimed, almost
shocked, mot so bad as that nor
nearly SO bad as that"
'Yes, worse than that with many,
very many, Cad Rouncewell. My
plain opinion, very plainly express
ed is that women are FOOLS"
"Why, Kate p
Don't why Kate me. Just look
at that mending basket it has been
illed and emptied year after year !;
filed by our carelessness and emp
tied BY cur mothers slavish toll,
and we great, healthy overgrown
girls, sat cSlmly by and saw her do
it. And she, weak, unselfish woman
that she is, hadn't snap enough
about her to rap us over the head
for our ugliness.