a new england girlhood-第14章

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sh　child。〃

And　some　lines　of　a　very　familiar　hymn　by　Dr。　Watts　ran　thus：

〃Whene'er　I　take　my　walks　abroad；　How　many　poor　I　see。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。

〃How　many　children　in　the　street　Half　naked　I　behold；　While　I　am　clothed　from　head　to　feet；　And　sheltered　from　the　cold。〃

Now　a　ragged；　half…clothed　child；　or　one　that　could　really　be　called　poor；　in　the　extreme　sense　of　the　word；　was　the　rarest　of　all　sights　in　a　thrifty　New　England　town　fifty　years　ago。　I　used　to　look　sharply　for　those　children；　but　I　never　could　see　one。　And　a　beggar！　Oh；　if　a　real　beggar　would　come　along；　like　the　one　described　in

〃Pity　the　sorrows　of　a　poor　old　man；〃

what　a　wonderful　event　that　would　be！　I　believe　I　had　more　curiosity　about　a　beggar；　and　more　ignorance；　too；　than　about　a　king。　The　poem　read：

〃A　pampered　menial　drove　me　from　the　door。〃

What　sort　of　creature　could　a　〃pampered　menial〃　be？　　Nothing　that　had　ever　come　under　our　observation　corresponded　to　the　words。　Nor　was　it　easy　for　us　to　attach　any　meaning　to　the　word　〃servant。〃　There　were　women　who　came　in　occasionally　to　do　the　washing；　or　to　help　about　extra　work。　But　they　were　decently　clothed；　and　had　homes　of　their　own；　more　or　less　comfortable；　and　their　quaint　talk　and　free…and…easy　ways　were　often　as　much　of　a　lift　to　the　household　as　the　actual　assistance　they　rendered。

I　settled　down　upon　the　conclusion　that　〃rich〃　and　〃poor〃　were　book…words　only；　describing　something　far　off；　and　having　nothing　to　do　with　our　every…day　experience。　My　mental　definition　of　〃rich　people；〃　from　home　observation；　was　something　like　this：　People　who　live　in　three…story　houses；　and　keep　their　green　blinds　closed；　and　hardly　ever　come　out　and　talk　with　the　folks　in　the　street。　There　were　a　few　such　houses　in　Beverly；　and　a　great　many　in　Salem；　where　my　mother　sometimes　took　me　for　a　shopping　walk。　But　I　did　not　suppose　that　any　of　the　people　who　lived　near　us　were　very　rich；　like　those　in　books。

Everybody　about　us　worked；　and　we　expected　to　take　hold　of　our　part　while　young。　I　think　we　were　rather　eager　to　begin；　for　we　believed　that　work　would　make　men　and　women　of　us。

I；　however；　was　not　naturally　an　industrious　child；　but　quite　the　reverse。　When　my　father　sent　us　down　to　weed　his　vegetable…garden　at　the　foot　of　the　lane；　I；　the　youngest　of　his　weeders；　liked　to　go　with　the　rest；　but　not　for　the　sake　of　the　work　or　the　pay。　I　generally　gave　it　up　before　I　had　weeded　half　a　bed。　It　made　me　so　warm！　and　my　back　did　ache　so！　I　stole　off　into　the　shade　of　the　great　apple…trees；　and　let　the　west　wind　fan　my　hot　cheeks；　and　looked　up　into　the　boughs；　and　listened　to　the　many；　many　birds　that　seemed　chattering　to　each　other　in　a　language　of　their　own。　What　was　it　they　were　saying？　and　why　could　not　I　understand　it？　Perhaps　I　should；　sometime。　I　had　read　of　people　who　did；　in　fairy　tales。

When　the　others　started　homeward；　I　followed。　I　did　not　mind　their　calling　me　lazy；　nor　that　my　father　gave　me　only　one　tarnished　copper　cent；　while　Lida　received　two　or　three　bright　ones。　I　had　had　what　I　wanted　most。　I　would　rather　sit　under　the　apple…trees　and　hear　the　birds　sing　than　have　a　whole　handful　of　bright　copper　pennies。　It　was　well　for　my　father　and　his　garden　that　his　other　children　were　not　like　me。

The　work　which　I　was　born　to；　but　had　not　begun　to　do；　was　sometimes　a　serious　weight　upon　my　small；　forecasting　brain。

One　of　my　hymns　ended　with　the　lines；

〃With　books；　and　work；　and　healthful　play；　May　my　first　years　be　passed；　That　I　may　give；　for　every　day；　Some　good　account　at　last。〃

I　knew　all　about　the　books　and　the　play；　but　the　work；how　should　I　ever　learn　to　do　it？

My　father　had　always　strongly　emphasized　his　wish　that　all　his　children；　girls　as　well　as　boys；　should　have　some　independent　means　of　self…support　by　the　labor　of　their　hands；　that　every　one　should；　as　was　the　general　custom；　〃learn　a　trade。〃　Tailor's　workthe　finishing　of　men's　outside　garmentswas　the　〃trade　learned　most　frequently　by　women　in　those　days；　and　one　or　more　of　my　older　sisters　worked　at　it；　I　think　it　must　have　been　at　home；　for　I　somehow　or　somewhere　got　the　idea；　while　I　was　a　small　child；　that　the　chief　end　of　woman　was　to　make　clothing　for　mankind。

This　thought　came　over　me　with　a　sudden　dread　one　Sabbath　morning　when　I　was　a　toddling　thing；　led　along　by　my　sister；　behind　my　father　and　mother。　As　they　walked　arm　in　arm　before　me；　I　lifted　my　eyes　from　my　father's　heels　to　his　head；　and　mused：　〃How　tall　he　is！　and　how　long　his　coat　looks！　and　how　many　thousand；　thousand　stitches　there　must　be　in　his　coat　and　pantaloons！　And　I　suppose　I　have　got　to　grow　up　and　have　a　husband；　and　put　all　those　little　stitches　into　his　coats　and　pantaloons。　Oh；　I　never；　never　can　do　it！〃　A　shiver　of　utter　discouragement　went　through　me。　With　that　task　before　me；　it　hardly　seemed　to　me　as　if　life　were　worth　living。　I　went　on　to　meeting；　and　I　suppose　I　forgot　my　trouble　in　a　hymn；　but　for　the　moment　it　was　real。　It　was　not　the　only　time　in　my　life　that　I　have　tired　myself　out　with　crossing　bridges　to　which　I　never　came。　real。　　It　was　not　the　only　time　inmy　life　that　I　have　tired　myself　out　with　crossing　brid；es　to　which　I　never　came。

Another　trial　confronted　me　in　the　shape　of　an　ideal　but　impossible　patchwork　quilt。　We　learned　to　sew　patchwork　at　school；　while　we　were　learning　the　alphabet；　and　almost　every　girl；　large　or　small；　had　a　bed…quilt　of　her　own　begun；　with　an　eye　to　future　house　furnishing。　I　was　not　over　fond　of　sewing；　but　I　thought　it　best　to　begin　mine　early。

So　I　collected　a　few　squares　of　calico；　and　undertook　to　put　them　together　in　my　usual　independent　way；　without　asking　direction。　I　liked　assorting　those　little　figured　bits　of　cotton　cloth；　for　they　were　scraps　of　gowns　I　had　seen　worn；　and　they　reminded　me　of　the　persons　who　wore　them。　One　fragment；　in　particular；　was　like　a　picture　to　me。　It　was　a　delicate　pink　and　brown　sea…moss　pattern；　on　a　white　ground；　a　piece　of　a　dress　belonging　to　my　married　sister；　who　was　to　me　bride　and　angel　in　One。　I　always　saw　her　face　before　me　when　I　unfolded　this　scrap；a　face　with　an　expression　truly　heavenly　in　its　loveliness。　Heaven　claimed　her　before　my　childhood　was　ended。　Her　beautiful　form　was　laid　to　rest　in　mid…ocean；　too　deep　to　be　pillowed　among　the　soft　sea…　mosses。　But　she　lived　long　enough　to　make　a　heaven　of　my　child…　hood　whenever　she　came　home。

One　of　the　sweetest　of　our　familiar　hymns　I　always　think　of　as　belonging　to　her；　and　as　a　still　unbroken　bond　between　her　spirit　and　mine。　She　had　come　back　to　us　for　a　brief　visit；　soon　after　her　marriage；　with　some　deep；　new　experience　of　spiritual　realities　which　I；　a　child　of　four　or　five　years；　felt　in　the　very　tones　of　her　voice；　and　in　the　expression　of　her　eyes。

My　mother　told　her　of　my　fondness　for　the　hymn…book；　and　she　turned　to　me　with　a　smile　and　said；　〃Won't　you　learn　one　hymn　for　meone　hymn　that　I　love　very　much？〃

Would　I　not？　She　could　not　guess　how　happy　she　made　me　by　wishing　me　to　do　anything　for　her　sake。　The　hymn　was；

〃Whilst　Thee　I　seek；　protecting　Power。〃

In　a　few　minutes　I　repeated　the　whole　to　her　and　its　own　beauty；　pervaded　with　the　tenderness　of　her　love　for　me；　fixed　it　at　once　indelibly　in　my　memory。　Perhaps　I　shall　repeat　it　to　her　again；　deepened　with　a　lifetime's　meaning；　beyond　the　sea；　and　beyond　the　stars。

I　could　dream　over　my　patchwork；　but　I　could　not　bring　it　into　conventional　shape。　　My　sisters；　whose　fingers　had　been　educated；　called　my　sewing　〃gobblings。〃　I　grew　disgusted　with　it　myself；　and　gave　away　all　my　pieces　except　the　pretty　sea…moss　pattern；　which　I　was　not　willing　to　see　patched　up　with　common　calico。　It　was　evident　that　I　should　never　conquer　fate　with　my　needle。

Among　other　domestic　traditions　of　the　old　times　was　the　saying　that　every　girl　must　have　a　pillow…case　full　of　stockings　of　her　own　knitting　before　she　was　married。　Here　was　another　mountain　before　me；　for　I　took　it　for　granted　that　marrying　was　inevitable　one　of　the　things　that　everybody　must　do；　like　learning　to　read；　or　going　to　meeting。

I　began　to　knit　my　own　stockings　when　I　ways　six　or　seven　years　old；　and　kept　on；　until　home…made　stockings　went　out　of　fashion。　The　pillow…case　full；　however；　was　never　attempted；　any　more　than　the　patchwork　quilt。　I　heard　somebody　say　one　day　that　there　must　always　be　one　〃old　maid〃　in　every　family　of　girls；　and　I　accepted　the　prophecy　of　some　of　my　elders；　that　I　was　to　be　that　one。　I　was　rather　glad　to　know　that　freedom　of　choice　in　the　matter　was　possible。

One　day；　when　we　younger　ones　were　hanging　about　my　golden…haired　and　golden…hearted　sister　Emilie；　teasing　her　with　wondering　questions　about　our　future；　she　announced　to　us　（she　had　reached　the　mature　age　of　fifteen　years）　that　she　intended　to　be　an　old　maid；　and　that　we　might　all　come　and　live　with　her。　Some　one　listening　reproved　her；　but　she　said；　〃Why；　if　they　fit　them…　selves　to　be　good；　helpful；　cheerful　old　maids；　they　will　certainly　be　better　wives；　if　they　ever　are　married；〃　and　that　maxim　I　laid　by　in　my　memory　for　future　contingencies；　for　I　believed　in　every　word　she　ever　uttered。　She　herself；　however；　did　not　carry　out　her　girlish　intention。　〃Her　children　arise　up　and　call　her　blessed；　her　husband　also；　and　he　praiseth　her。〃　But　the　little　sisters　she　used　to　fondle　as　her　〃babies　have　never　allowed　their　own　years　nor　her　changed　relations　to　cancel　their　claim　upon　her　motherly　sympathies。

I　regard　it　as　a　great　privilege　to　have　been　one　of　a　large　family；　and　nearly　the　youngest。　We　had　strong　family　resem…　blances；　and　yet　no　two　seemed　at　all　alike。　It　was　like　rehearsing　in　a　small　world　each　our　own　part　in　the　great　one　awaiting　us。　If　we　little　ones　occasionally　had　some　severe　snubbing　mixed　with　the　petting　and　praising　and　loving；　that　was　wholesome　for　us；　and　not　at　all　to　be　regretted。

Almost　every　one　of　my　sisters　had　some　distinctive　aptitude　with　her　fingers。　One　worked　exquisite　lace…embroidery；　another　had　a　knack　at　cutting　and　fitting　her　doll's　clothing　so　perfectly　that　the　wooden　lady　was　always　a　typical　specimen　of　the　genteel　doll…world；　and　another　was　an　expert　at　fine　stitching；　so　delicately　done　that　it　was　a　pleasure　to　see　or　to　wear　anything　her　needle　had　touched。　I　had　none　of　these　gifts。　I　looked　on　and　admired；　and　sometimes　tried　to　imitate；　but　my　efforts　usually　ended　in　defeat　and　mortification。

I　did　like　to　knit；　however；　and　I　could　shape　a　stocking　tolerably　well。　My　fondness　for　this　kind　of　work　was　chiefly　because　it　did　not　require　much　thought。　Except　when　there　was　〃widening〃　or　〃narrowing〃　to　be　done；　I　did　not　need　to　keep　my　eyes　upon　it　at　all。　So　I　took　a　book　upon　my　lap　and　read；　and　read；　while　the　needles　clicked　on；　comforting　me　with　the　reminder　that　I　was　not　absolutely　unemployed；　while　yet　I　was　having　a　good　time　reading。

I　began　to　know　that　I　liked　poetry；　and　to　think　a　good　deal　about　it　at　my　childish　work。　Outside　of　the　hymn…book；　the　first　rhymes　I　committed　to　memory　were　in　the　〃Old　Farmer's　Almanac；〃　files　of　which　hung　in　the　chimney　corner；　and　were　an　inexhaust…　ible　source　of　entertainment　to　us　younger　ones。

My　father　kept　his　newspapers　also　c