Books and Authors Generally.—Funny scenes recounted and laughed at. Heroes and heroines discussed. Beautiful passages quoted.
Descriptions of Natural Scenery.—Woods in spring. In fall. Shadows on the grass. Waving of corn and grain. Sunsets. Sunrises.
We remained together for three or four hours, during which time I took notes, mentally, of the ideas expressed by different members of the company. I have put these notes upon paper in such a way as to show pretty nearly the course of the conversation, and how naturally one thing led to another.
During my ride home I had ample opportunity, thanks to the peculiar temperament of Mr. David’s horse, of comparing this conversation with that to which I had listened at the sewing-circle. And what a difference! Why, that first one was so trivial, so aimless, with its never-ending gossip, I actually felt myself growing smaller while hearing it.
And I could but compare the two ways in which the two sets of talkers handled the same subjects. For instance, “spring o’ the year” was mentioned by the first merely as a time of house-cleaning, and a dearth of pie-material. The second talked of spring flowers and spring birds, of leaves bursting, and swamps awaking. Children were discussed by the first set, chiefly, I think, with regard to what they liked to eat, or to whether, individually, they were or were not “hard on their clothes;” at any rate, there was no interchange of ideas concerning the right way of bringing them up. The second spoke of children as immortal beings, the training of whom called for a mother’s best endeavors. Even in talking about their neighbors there was a difference. Many members of the sewing-circle seemed rather to enjoy the downfall of Henry T.,—some even to exult over it. Allen Wentworth, on the contrary, was tenderly spoken of by Mrs. Royal and her friends; and the causes of his wrong-doing were thoughtfully considered.
Then, again, there was a difference in the kinds of enjoyment with which the two sets of people enjoyed their conversations; that of the last being infinitely higher. “How charming!” “Now, isn’t that grand!” “What a beautiful idea!” they exclaimed, now and then, as some heart-stirring passage was repeated. The face of each listener or speaker would light up with pleasure; and the eyes would tell that her very soul was enjoying itself. I could but remember, then, Adeline, Fennel Payne’s wife, who was blamed by some of the circle for “sitting down to read in the daytime;” as if daytime were only made for rolling out pastry, sewing dresses, and the like. And when that tea-table talk ran on flowers and birds, woods, waters, glorious sunsets, and all the wonderful “out-doors,” I again remembered Fennel Payne and Adeline, and how they had been ridiculed for “taking walks,” and “sitting down upon the hill.”
The ridicule, I thought, and still think, should be turned the other way. They are the ones to be ridiculed, who shut themselves in behind lath and plaster, and there scrub, sew, and cook, cook, sew, and scrub, scarcely noticing the wondrous show which each season, in turn, prepares for them. Flowers may bloom, trees may wave, brooks may ripple, the whole earth blossom into beauty; but they take no heed. It really does seem like slighting the gifts which God has bestowed.
There is much to admire and to reverence in these women of Tweenit. They are, generally speaking, just as bright and just as good as my friends at Piper’s Mills. The point is, that they do not, or the majority of them do not, like those friends of mine, get the best out of life. Their energies are spent chiefly on physical, not mental needs. Their talk is trivial. Nature is almost a dead loss to them. While others are enjoying, through books, communion with the noblest minds, they are taken up with the petty concerns of their neighbors. While others seek for knowledge worth the knowing, they are satisfied to learn that some “Mis Susan” or other has “swapped shawls.” And what is true of Tweenit is pretty likely to be true of other places. Then there is another class, not yet considered, the butterfly class, who give their attention chiefly to plumage. Ah, there must be a vast company of women, a multitude whom no man can number, who pick up pebbles, and leave the diamonds!
How is it with the “men-folks,” in this respect?