“I’ll agree to find horse and cart to cart all the work they’ll get,” said Mr. David sarcastically, when he first heard of the sewing-circle. His narrow vision took in Tweenit village only, where each family generally does its own needlework. But there were eyes of a wider range,—far-seeing eyes, which saw the “store” at Piper’s Mills, whereat were left weekly, by an agent from the city, huge bundles of slop-work and stocking-work for the sewers and knitters of that neighborhood. The sewing-circle obtained one of these bundles, and did its work so well that the agent not only promised it more bundles, but heaped bundles upon it; so that Nanny Joe had frequent opportunities of going to Mr. David, and saying, with a mischievous twinkle of her laughing black eyes, “More work to cart, Mr. Melendy!”
“Wal, wal, Nancy,” that victim of his own jest would reply, “I’ll stan’ by my word. But you must help me ketch him.”
This is not so very difficult a task; for that fat old horse of his would as soon be caught as not to be. Whether he goes or stands still is all one to him, and nearly so to his driver. For calmness, for meekness, for sublime indifference, Mr. David’s animal would take the medal. As may be imagined, he is a very even horse to drive; never allows himself to be disturbed by outside influences, but jogs heavily on, with a flop and a plunge, unmoved by word or blow.
“Speak of the ancient Nicholas,” says the proverb, “and you will see his horns.” And, in confirmation of it, behold this identical animal now approaching the house, shaking all over at every flop, as if he were a horse of jelly. Nanny Joe and Nanny Moses have just driven from Piper’s Mills with some bundles of work. Nanny Moses holds up a letter. Her fair, round face reminds me of Mrs. Fennel’s favorite expression, “Smiling as a basket of chips.” Thirty-seven or thirty-eight they say is her age. They also say that she holds her own pretty well, which is saying a good deal; for “her own” must weigh a hundred and fifty, at the least. Anybody might know those two would be intimate, they are so unlike. Nanny Joe is tall, slender; has coal-black hair, coal-black eyes, a sallow complexion, and a chin unnecessarily long. She is pleasing and sprightly; her friend, pleasing and quiet.
Now joyful shouts uprise. There is money in the letter. David Melendy, junior, has sent twenty dollars. These women leave no stone unturned. A few months ago, one of them, while on a visit to the city, called upon all Tweenit-born individuals there residing, and by appealing to their pride, their generosity, or their piety, as suited each case, obtained various sums to help the cause along. Tweenitites dwelling afar, amid Sitka’s snows or California’s golden sands, were appealed to through the United-States mail; and the letter just received is in answer to one of those appeals. It comes from Sitka; and Nanny Joe says the money is the profits arising from a rise in white bears. I was present the other day at the reading of a letter addressed to one Mr. Ezra Fennel, which must stir the depths of Mr. Ezra Fennel’s heart, if not of his pocket-book. Men’s money, after all? Well, so is the gold in a gold-mine the gold-mine’s gold. There is a great deal in knowing how to work a mine, and a great deal in knowing how to work a pocket-book.
Now that the Sitka excitement is over, and the circle is subsiding into its natural state, I will take a few notes of the conversation. They may throw some light on the subject of my present inquiries. Woman, I perceive, displays mind enough, both at home and abroad; and now I want to find out upon what kind of subjects her mind ordinarily dwells.
V.
NOTES TAKEN AT THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
NOT as a listener, but as an investigator, investigating the very important subject of domestic affairs. Why not call it a scientific subject? Why not found a small science of my own here in this out-of-the-way place? The wise ones, the ones that own the big sciences, won’t know any thing about it; and, if they do, they won’t try to get mine away from me, having so many heavenly bodies, motive-powers, the forces of Nature, and, in fact, all created things, to attend to.
My science has the forces of Nature in it too (human nature), and a motive-power. Their motive-powers act on machinery; mine acts on human beings. It is the power by which woman “carries on the family;” and I have seen for myself that there is a “power of it” used in some families; also that it can be turned on, as the factory people say, in other directions; in that of chapel-building, for instance. Give it a name; call it mind-power; for it is a combination of some of the highest mental qualities. Not fully developed, though; oh, no! scarcely begun to be developed yet.