The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1883-12-15

|
those domestic burden-bearers who
never considered their burden so heavy
| but that they can add another trile.
! Father had never been fortunate, pc
! culiarily and being anxious to give all
their children a good education, the
labor of saving for this end was added
to their other tolls. And then, like
many other good and unselfsh, but un-
wise mothers, she allowed us to go our
own way, and spoiled us through igno-
rance, and, as We had often heard her
say, she would rather do thing herself
than take the trouble to show us how,
we felt as if we were actually comforting
a favor upon her by letting things alone.
To be sure we could sweep, dust,
wash dishes and make beds, and were
familiar with some of the minor details
of cooking but to be able to keep the
domestic machine we'll oiled and in
constant running motion was to us like
trying to converse in an unknown
tongue. And SO now, without any adj
eQuate knowledge of work and its re-
sponsibilities, we found ourselves in
mountain of difficulties to surmount,
and pretty mess we made of it for
few days, too. 1t was not difficult to
get through supper, thanks to mothers
provident hands but when, next morn
ing, we found the bread was out, the
cookies all gone, and not stray pie
for dinner, our trouble began-and
they deepened and broadened with
every passing moment, and we became
painfully aware that making bread and
pastry w?s branch of our education
which had been terribly neglected and
when, about 10 O'Clock, father, in bliss
full ignorance of the novice at home,
sent up Surloin roast and information
that a stranger would dine with us, and
| fifteen minutes later the washerwoman
brought in the clothes for us to iron,
was ready to melt into tears. and Kate
was SO cross that 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 longcd for moth
er's skillful hand to straighten out the
tangled threads our awkward fingers had
managed to produce. There was some
thing to be done from early morn till
late at night so that no sooner did we
fancy ourselves free for half an hour
than some other duty undone would
stare us in the face, or the children
would come in with clamoring tongues
and empty stomachs and in a few days
became addicted to chronic fretful-
ness, while Kate was transformed into a
veritable scold. John scrowled over
the miserable meals, Ross teased in
every vulnerable point, but poor pa
tent father pitied our often inhrmities,
and ate what was set before him for
conscience sake.
1t went on this way for about fort
night, when, after very trying day, we
took our books and sat down for very
quiet evening. But alas for our hopes
Only ten minutes of peace, and then
an ominous "ahem" from father caused
us to look up.
do you know, girls" he inquired,
whether mother mended my pants be-
fore she went away? should like
them to put on in the morning. She
generally did the mending every week,
believe"
There :" burst out Kate, shutting
the book with bang, while | after one
desponding glance at the fascinating
pages Of David Copperheld," went to
examine the mending basket.
1t was full to the brim shirts, socks,
little Bingham coats with the pockets
torn down, the buttons pulled half off,
with shreds Of clothing hanging to
them fathers pants and Nellie's school
dress with a large rent clear across the
front With doleful sigh, l lifted the
casket, and without a word sat down to
the unwelcomed task.
Nine, ten o'clock came and went,
and the basket was not half emptied of
its contents. Father, John, Ross and
Nellie gaped and stretched, and one
BY one followed the children to bed.
Eleven, and still we sat, silent and grim
as ghosts solemnly stitching away at
at the endless rents.
"Cad," said Kate, at last, jerking out
the words as if she hated them, GLOW
do you like it ?"
"Like what?" | asked, in astonish-
ment.
This life is slavery. This humbrum,
everlasting stick of it, unsatisfactory ex-
istence, with not speck of spice in the
way of variety about it. Just over and
over, round and round, until we seek
our rest low in the ground.'"
ooh, Kate p | exclaimed, almost
shocked, mot SO bad as that not near
" so bad as that
Yes, worse than that with many,
very many, Cad Rouncewell. My plain
opinion very plainly expressed is that
women are fools"
"Why, Kate ~
Don't why Kate me. Just look at
that mending basket. 1t has been filled
and emptied year after year; filled by
our carelessness and emptied by our
mothers slavish toll, and we great
healthy, over-grown girls, sat calmly by