Ginger Snaps Part 8

How seldom, in judging of those who excite our anger or contempt, do we judge them, as the Almighty does, by the extenuating circ.u.mstances of birth and education, and the lack of spiritual light! "n.o.body ever told me;" "I did not know it was wrong;" "n.o.body cared whether I was good or bad." What pitiful words are these! The Saviour recognized these facts when he said, "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."

_THE OLD MAID OF THE PERIOD._

She don't shuffle round in "skimpt" raiment, and awkward shoes, and cotton gloves, with horn side-combs fastening six hairs to her temples; nor has she a sharp nose, and angular jaw, and hollow cheeks, and only two front teeth. She don't read "Law's Serious Call," or keep a cat, or a snuff-box, or go to bed at dark, save on vestry-meeting nights, nor scowl at little children, or gather catnip, or apply a broomstick to astonished dogs.

Not a bit of it. The modern "old maid" is round and jolly, and has her full complement of hair and teeth, and two dimples in her cheek, and has a laugh as musical as a bobolink's song. She wears pretty, nicely fitting dresses too, and cunning little ornaments around her plump throat, and becoming bits of color in her hair, and at her breast, in the shape of little knots and bows; and her waist is shapely, and her hands have sparkling rings, and no knuckles; and her foot is cunning, and is prisoned in a bewildering boot; and she goes to concerts and parties and suppers and lectures and matinees, and she don't go alone either; and she lives in a nice house, earned by herself, and gives jolly little teas in it. She don't care whether she is married or not, nor need she. She can afford to wait, as men often do, till they have "seen life," and when their bones are full of aches, and their blood tamed down to water, and they have done going out, and want somebody to swear at and to nurse them--then marry!

Ah! the modern old maid has her eye-teeth cut. She takes care of herself, instead of her sister's nine children, through mumps, and measles, and croup, and chicken-pox, and lung fever and leprosy, and what not.

_She_ don't work that way for no wages and bare toleration, day and night. No, sir! If she has no money, she teaches, or she lectures, or she writes books or poems, or she is a book-keeper, or she sets types, or she does anything but hang on to the skirts of somebody's else husband, and she feels well and independent in consequence, and holds up her head with the best, and asks no favors, and "_Woman's Rights_"

has done it!

That awful bugbear, "Woman's Rights"! which small-souled men, and, I am sorry to say, narrow _women_ too, burlesque and ridicule, and wont believe in, till the Juggernaut of Progress knocks them down and rides over them, because they will neither climb up on it, nor get out of the way.

The fact is, the _Modern_ Old Maid is as good as the Modern Young Maid, and a great deal better, to those who have outgrown bread and b.u.t.ter. She has sense as well as freshness, and conversation and repartee as well as dimples and curves.

She carries a dainty parasol, and a natty little umbrella, and wears killing bonnets, and has live poets and sages and philosophers in her train, and knows how to use her eyes, and don't care if she never sees a cat, and couldn't tell a snuff-box from a patent reaper, and has a bank-book and dividends: yes, sir! and her name is Phoebe or Alice; and Woman's Rights has done it.

A newspaper lately announced that the fas.h.i.+on of blue coats and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons for gentlemen had received its death-blow. Now, listen, ye men who are constantly preaching to us women, about our "slavery to fas.h.i.+on." It was done by Prince Arthur, who _didn't_ wear it at a recent great public ball. Deadly stab! We hope the gentlemen who did appear in that costume will not commit suicide. But if we might give them a little bit of advice, it would be, that they should keep on wearing blue coats and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, just _because_ "the Prince"

didn't. Show yourself superior to fas.h.i.+on, gentlemen, as you so often advise ladies to do. Try the boot on _that_ foot. Don't throw aside a good coat for the puerile reason that it is out of fas.h.i.+on! Oh, no!

_THE NURSE OF THE PERIOD._

All honor to Mr. Bergh for his remedial measures to prevent cruelty to animals. Cats, they say, have nine lives; so, with this in their favor, will the gentleman above mentioned let them wriggle a while, and devote that portion of his time to an animal which has only one life. I refer to the New York child--the _rich_ New York child. If he will take a walk through any of our city parks with his eyes open, he cannot fail to see suffering enough among this cla.s.s to enlist his warmest sympathies. I often stroll through the parks to hear the birds sing, and to see the children. One day last week I saw a bright little boy of four years amusing himself by picking up little twigs that had fallen from the trees, while his nurse was engaged in interminable gossip with one of her cla.s.s. Turning her head suddenly, she perceived him engaged in this harmless and natural amus.e.m.e.nt. s.n.a.t.c.hing them from his hand, she took each little twig separately and struck him with each across his happy little face; then, throwing them away out of his reach, left him standing there, sobbing, with nothing to do, while she continued her chapter of gossip. Walking on a little farther, I saw a little girl who had strayed across the path to look at a "dolly" which another child was drawing in a little wagon. It was a wonderful "dolly;" with flaxen curls, and pink boots, and a muslin dress; and its eyes were closed in slumber, after the fas.h.i.+on of the doll of the period, while in a rec.u.mbent position. Oh! the sweet little face, as it peered into the tiny wagon, and the precocious _mother_ look of adoration at the "dolly"! Instantly came darting after her the Gorgon nurse, and with a smart slap upon her head and a shake of her little shoulders, till her bright hair flew quite over the frightened little face, she tore her violently away, and seating herself upon a bench, where she had been talking with a coa.r.s.e-looking man, set the sobbing child so hard upon her knee that I could distinctly hear it catch its breath. I mention here only these two instances of brutal treatment, which I could multiply by dozens. Why do not mothers take pains to follow their nurses occasionally, to see if all is right with their children when out of doors? And why could not Mr. Bergh order some _backs_ placed to the torturing benches in our parks where the little children sit? The Central Park benches are a good model in this regard, as many a weary pedestrian can testify.

And while he is up there looking at them with a view to this, if he will just pa.s.s under the damp bridges, and rout out those self-same nurses, who sit there talking with their beaux, instead of taking their little charges out into the suns.h.i.+ne, and among the flowers, as they were told to do, _this_ also would be a humanitarian act.

In fact, _the rich child of the period_ is at present an object for _his_ especial consideration. Deserted apparently by its natural protector, the mother, except so far as its dress is concerned, it is peculiarly helpless and friendless, at least when out of doors. I speak advisedly; for not a day pa.s.ses that my blood does not boil at the cruelty it endures; at the innocent little instincts, for the gratification of which it is immediately slapped, as if they were crimes; just as if we should stone a bird for warbling, or a bee for humming, or a leaf for fluttering in the sweet south wind.

Oh! the harsh Juggernaut wheel which crushes out all this sweetness into the dust!

And what of the _temper_ permanently spoiled and soured by such roughness and injustice? What of the aching little head, which is slapped and shaken? What of the tired little feet, while the nurse and her comrades occupy the seat, and the little ones, forbidden to play, lean wearily against the nurse's knee, and cry for "mamma"? Surely, where is mamma? Good Mr. Bergh, do _you_ be the rich children's "mamma," and let the cat with her "nine lives" look out for herself!

_A LOOK BACKWARD._

Oh! to be a child again. My only treasures, bits of sh.e.l.l and stone and gla.s.s. To love nothing but maple sugar. To fear nothing but a big dog. To go to sleep without dreading the morrow. To wake up with a shout. Not to have seen a dead face. Not to dread a living one. To be able to _believe_. Does life give us anything, in after years, as compensation for the lack of all this; I asked, as I watched the busy little feet about me, never weary of chasing some b.u.t.terfly of the minute. But then when this thought overshadowed me it was a blue day.

Things had somehow got "contrary." My shoe might have pinched, or my belt have been too tight; or I had been up too long without my coffee; or I had forgotten the touch of my first baby's velvet cheek, or my mother's praise of my first pie, or my exultation when I cut and fitted down a carpet all myself, sewing on the thick seams till my fingers were swollen and sore, because help was not to be had. I remember, when it was finished, how intensely I admired myself and that carpet. Then I have strutted round very proudly in dresses of my own fitting, that "were fits." And once I roasted a piece of beef, and seasoned it with saleratus, instead of salt; think of the triumph of that moment! But that was owing to a too-fascinating novel under my cooking-ap.r.o.n, in a day when novels were forbidden fruit. And once, at the romantic age of twelve years, I gave a little blue-eyed boy one of my long, yellow curls, and he threw it in the gutter, and said "he hated girl's hair," but then another boy was standing by at the time, and the world's jeer was too much for him; but I may mention in this connection, that the next handful of "three-cornered nuts" he offered me, when we were alone, followed that curl into the gutter!

I have also dim recollections of "seating" a pair of trousers, to see if I had any undeveloped talent in that line; but I have a lurking suspicion that I must have interfered with their original shape, for though my efforts received due commendation, I am confident those breeches were never worn afterward. But I think my failure came of my always running away, in my girlhood, whenever the family tailoress came to reside with us for a period, to make innumerable vests, jackets, etc., for my little brothers. In revenge she prophesied that, when I was married, I should have always boys, and be very glad of her presence. When she learned years after, that I had three _girls_, she remarked, in a limp and crestfallen state, that "it beat all I should have my own way _in such a matter as that_!"

Oh, yes, I suppose there is something to be got out of the world besides dolls and sugar-candy; but whether it is worth while to go through all we do to secure it, remains yet the unsolved problem.

Grown people, doubtless, have their crucifixions. Women, I know, "die daily." But I am certain, from observation and reflection, that some children, and very small ones too, suffer quite as much as it is possible for adults to do. I shall never forget a punishment measured out to me, when a fat little chub at school. I had committed the heinous offence of "whispering to one of the boys." I don't recollect what it was about. I only remember that Georgie smiled kindly at me on that first terrible day when I took my seat on a narrow bench, without any back, to "keep very still;" which was then, and is now, the most fiendish torment that can be devised for me.

Directly my name was called to "stand up in the middle of the floor."

_His_ name, "Georgie," was also called. With very red faces, out of which all the smile had gone, we confronted each other. Miss Birch then turned us back to back, and with a string of twine tied our elbows together, saying to me as she did so, "Since you like boys, you shall have enough of 'em." Now Georgie, true to the instincts of his s.e.x, no sooner felt himself "bound" to the little creature, whom he the moment before adored, than he began to pull at the cruel string, till it cut into my fat bare arm, with torturing sharpness; his jacket sleeve protecting him from the pain he inflicted on me. There we stood, "the boys" _laughing_ at Georgie. What little man could stand being "hen-pecked," even at that tender age? For me, I would not have shed a tear, had he cut my arm in two. I let him pull and tweak, and bore it with Spartan endurance till our penance was over, and school was "let out."

"Did you care?" asked the girls of me, going home. "No," answered I, huskily, with my chin in the air, twitching nervously at my white pinafore. I said nothing about it when I got home, but went up garret to cry it out. That Georgie should have hurt me _on purpose_, when I was in disgrace! That he should not have walked home with me from school, as before; or that he--a _boy_--should be "afraid," though a thousand of "the boys" looked on, to speak to a girl--to speak to _me_! _His_ reign was over from that moment, spite of his curly black hair and glittering white teeth. I staid up garret till I had it all out among the rafters, and then washed my face and went down to my dinner.

The next morning I took my satchel and went to school. When I got as far as the corner of the street, Georgie was there waiting for me. I didn't see him. I looked straight at the lamp-post. He said softly, "Sarah!" I didn't hear. I planted my little boots firmly on the sidewalk and trotted on. He had _not_ been my friend in my trouble.

Failing in _that_, he had failed in everything. This was my first life-battle. I have had others since, with greater capacity for suffering; but I thought then, nothing could be worse than little Georgie's defection.

One day I was walking, with my two little girls beside me, and met "Georgie," to whom I had never spoken since our childish falling out.

He was a physician then, in good practice, and as handsome as a man, as he had been as a child.

We each laughed, and pa.s.sed on. For one, I was glad that I was not "tied" to him, save only for those few moments.

I may add, however, by way of postscript, that if Miss Birch imagined that she then and there cured me of "whispering to the boys," it was a fallacy.

Have you a habit of "putting off till a better time"--through an indolence inexplicable even to yourself--little matters that may seem trifling, but which you should really consider as tests of character?

To such we say, _fight_ this inclination with a persistent strength which will take no denial, if you ever wish to be or to accomplish anything in this world; for rest a.s.sured, it is the little fox at the foot of the vine, which will nibble away till every bud and blossom of the future shall be covered with mildew and blight.

_VARIETIES OF HUMAN NATURE._

Show me an "easy person," and I will show you a selfish one.

Good-natured he may be; why not? since the disastrous consequences of his "easiness" are generally shouldered by other people. He always "guesses it is all right," though he knows it is all wrong. None so blind as they who don't wish to see. To right an abuse, is to tread on somebody's corns, and then that Somebody might turn and tread on his.

For instance, some boys in the street are pelting a poor, drunken woman. "Well--boys _will_ do such things." He takes a journey with his family and stops at a hotel in the dog-days, and the hotel clerk a.s.signs him a room which is right over a fiery kitchen. He "guesses"

there was no other to give; if so, why didn't the clerk say so? That might possibly do if the clerk didn't _always_ give him the room over the hotel kitchen. He gets up from his seat in the car to step out upon the platform; a very _odorous_ individual takes his seat, much to the disgust of his family. When asked to eject him, he replies, that he is not sure that the law in such cases is in his own favor; so he takes another seat, and leaves to them the new and uncongenial neighbor. The grocer sends him bad b.u.t.ter, instead of the good for which he bargained; but he thinks it was the grocer's boy who did it, and that _he_ didn't do it _purposely_, and that he wont do it again.

The milkman overcharges in his bill: well, very likely gra.s.s was scarce, or there was some good reason for it; beside, he can give his family a dollar or two less, the next time money is wanted,--and it is always wanted,--and that will make it all square; thus proving the adage, "that n.o.body can be generous without doing an injustice to somebody." Mr. Easy orders a coat; and when it comes home the sleeves are too short; but he don't like to send it back. He guesses the cutter understood the order to be just so; besides it is paid for and settled. Mr. Easy always pays for things before they come home;--he thinks it looks like distrust of your fellow-creatures if you don't;--and so he has perpetual short sleeves in his coats, and perpetually his trousers come home too long in the leg; and his wife has to keep on fibbing, and tell him they are just right, and it is the latest fas.h.i.+on; for fear he will ask her, as she goes by the tailor's store, just to step in and mention it, because _she_ is so good at such things, you know, and don't mind speaking up; which accomplishment, desirable as it is, he prefers her to exercise _outside_ the house; _in_-doors it must be kept in pickle.

The cook sends up the meat underdone. Mr. Easy remarks, apologetically, that it was a larger piece than usual; as if just there, the cook's judgment, if she had any, was not expected to come in, by putting it on to roast a little earlier, else what is the use of a cook?

Now, _Mr._ Easy's wife believes in eternal justice--obedience or the guillotine. _She_ thinks that the person who, through indolence, offers a premium for carelessness or incompetency, commits a crime against society. She believes that he has no right to s.h.i.+rk a disagreeable duty because it is disagreeable; or because he is lazy, or because it is pleasant to be popular, and to appear amiable to the outside world. She believes that executive people are the hinges upon which alone the world turns--creaking awfully sometimes, it is true, but, thank G.o.d! _turning!_ not _rusting_. She believes in using the dictionary, and plenty of it, when people need waking up to their duty; and, this accomplished, she believes in laying it on the shelf till again called for. A wrong _un_-righted pains _Mrs._ Easy; rouses her fiery indignation. _Mr._ Easy is never quite sure it _is_ wrong; and, till he is, it is not necessary, in his opinion, to clear the deck for action.

Now, I have no doubt that both styles of persons have their mission in the world, else they wouldn't be here: I have known wasps and snails each to have their admirers. Some day I'll write a book of fables for you, to which aesop's shall be no circ.u.mstance.

I wonder is a man justified, to his own conscience or his Maker, in allowing himself to be so absorbed by "business," beyond what is necessary to the comfortable support of his family, that he is as much a stranger to his own wife and children as if he were only a boarder in the family,--bodily present indeed at two or three meals a day, but totally ignorant of the ponderosity of the domestic machinery, or at what cost of health, or mental and moral deterioration, to his wife, this unrelieved strain is being carried out from day to day.