White and black lies

by Madeline Leslie

In the laundry, too, Miss Clarissa was quite as successful as in the china closet. The making up, as she called it, of her nephew's shirts was both her pride and delight; while her own laces—I do not say caps; she would consider me very presuming to hint that she wore caps—and her niece's muslins were the envy of all who saw them. Then this good lady was skilled in all kinds of preparations for the sick. Few, even of well persons, could refuse her chicken-broth or beef-tea; and those who came on to the sick list were willing to try her senna, her jalap, or her thoroughwort, for the sake of the delicacies which accompanied them.

If any one person in the world was neater than every other, that person was Aunt Clarissa. The least particle of dust on the furniture, or on the heavy mouldings; the slightest variation in the width of the snow-white sheet when it was turned down over the smoothly-spread counterpane; the tiniest speck upon the shining silver, or on the large panes of glass in the windows, was sure to attract her attention; and woe be to the servant who had so shamefully neglected her duty.

So far then as her housekeeping was concerned, Miss Saunders was every way calculated to render her nephew's family exceedingly comfortable; but I am very sorry to say, she was in no ways adapted to educate his children. In the first place, she had no fixed principles for the regulation of her own conduct. To be sure she did occasionally, on a stormy Sabbath, read her Bible; and she had heard of the inspired rule, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it;" but she had little idea of the literal meaning of the old-fashioned precept. So far as she had any rule, it was this: "Train up a child to have his own way, and when he is old he will be a model of perfection."

The first part of this adage she certainly carried out. Alice, Ellen, and particularly Joseph, were trained to have their own way in every particular. If the little dears chose to obey her, and overload their stomachs with her rich dainties, well and good. If they disobeyed her commands, quarrelled, went on the damp ground with thin shoes, talked impudently to the servants, or told what was not true,—why, such follies must be expected from children. Does not even the Bible say, children go astray as soon as they are born?

Whether Miss Clarissa's training was such as to make her nieces and nephews honor their father, and her who took the place of a mother; whether it would render them "kindly affectionate one to another;" whether it would make them lovers of truth; whether it would cause them to become ornaments of society, loving their Creator, and endeavoring to serve him,—we shall see as we proceed with their history.

Alice was called a handsome child. She had small regular features, a pink and white complexion, and an abundance of soft, light hair, which waved over her cheeks and neck. Her eyes were blue, but of so light a shade, that they had the appearance of being faded. In disposition, she was naturally amiable; and under judicious training, such as her mother, had she lived, might have exercised, was capable of making a useful, agreeable, but never a strong, character.

Ellen was the exact opposite of her sister, both in person and disposition. She was a brunette, with dark flashing eyes, a low forehead, and somewhat wide but laughing mouth. She was warm and enthusiastic in her temperament, to a degree which astonished every member of the family; strong and unyielding in her prejudices, keenly alive to all the weaknesses of Aunt Clarissa's character, and ready to take advantage of them for her own benefit. Being a very positive character, she soon exercised a most decided influence over her more yielding sister, and though three years younger, until Alice left for school, was almost always appealed to in cases of doubt.

"Would you go to church? Would you wear that? Do you think this hat looks well?"

If Alice was invited to go to a party, it took her a long time to decide whether she would send a note of acceptance or regret; whether she cared enough about it, to take the trouble to dress. In the midst of her queries and uncertainties, Ellen would come in, and with her decided, "I shall go," or "I shall not go," put an end at once to the controversy.

Alice, without proper training, would become a negative, indolent young lady; Ellen, an obstinate, self-willed, and passionate one.