As it was solely for poor widows that this charity was built, she did not allow a woman to live in one of the houses a moment after she married again; nor would she take a woman who had been twice a widow. When the children grew up and were no longer a burden to their mother, then this mother was allowed a dollar a week, and placed comfortably with one of her children elsewhere, and this sum was continued until the child was able to maintain her. To see that no one imposed upon her became one of her tasks; but she was seldom deceived, for she made many allowances for poor people. She even made more allowances for them, than for the rich; for poverty, she thought, was such an evil in itself that we should not expect all the virtues to centre in the poor alone. If she saw that some little unfair attempt was made to excite her pity, she would wink at it and say, “let that alone, ‘tis no concern of ours; of one thing I am certain, deceive me in other things as they may, the poor things are in great want, and must be helped through with it.” Mr. Bangs did nothing towards all this; but still I wish him to keep some hold of my readers’ good opinion, for was it not a great merit to let his excellent wife manage as she liked?
To be sure the farm, and all the income ever to be derived from it, were made fast, by will to his wife and her heirs; but a man knows that there are one or two lawyers always at hand to pick flaws in a will; and a suit can be carried up to the court of errors, and there brought to issue in his favour, although neither law nor equity is on his side. So Mr. Bangs, knowing this, would not go to law; for, thought he, whether I should win or lose, the whole would go to the lawyers; and as the farm was really intended, by the father, to belong to her and hers, why e’en let them have it; but I must say it is hard that I can’t have a boy.
In the course of time Francis Floss, the foreman of the shop, had a regular invitation to sit in their pew at church, partake of their Sunday dinner, and join in their walk after church. Mr. Bangs begged the lad of his father when he was of a suitable age, for the laboratory, and he being of a curious and ingenious turn and very industrious, came not only to find out all the little secrets of the art, so tenaciously withheld from all eyes by simple Mr. Bangs, but to add more to the stock of knowledge. He could not but see that his apprentice had outwitted him, and that he more than rivalled him in his art; but he would not allow himself to get angry about it, for two reasons—one was, that if he quarrelled with him, the young man would leave him and set up for himself—the other reason was, that he intended Francis Floss for the husband of his wife’s baker’s dozen.
A young man in love with a beautiful girl, with the prospect of a handsome independence with her, does not pay particular attention to the extent of her acquirements. Inquisitive as Mr. Floss might be in general, he was in utter ignorance of all things that concerned the education of Mr. Bangs’s family. He fell in love with Fanny, before he thought of her mind or her qualifications. He knew how far the mind of Christopher Bangs stretched; but he had great reliance that all was right at home, for every body allowed that Mrs. Bangs was a sensible, notable, thrifty, shrewd, energetic, capable woman, and he knew that all the virtues and talent generally come from the motherly side of the house. Of the daughters no one knew any thing, excepting the shopkeepers and poor people; the former thought them sensible and modest, and the latter loved them entirely. All this, and he saw that she was docile and affectionate at home, was fortune enough for him, as he was thoroughly in love. He made proposals and was accepted—by all. Mr. Bangs for once in his life, would have asked the reason why, if he had been rejected. I think that all the girls loved Frank Floss nearly as well as Fanny did.
It was on the wedding day, and preparing the wedding dinner, that the cook called Mrs. Bangs’s attention to the piece of brickbat in the turkey’s craw. Four of her daughters were assisting likewise, but I guess that they did not stop to inquire or even look at the stone. Their work was to attend to the jellies and pastry—pleasant work for women, rich or poor. If they had found a whole brick in the craw, all their care would be to see that the cook got it out without breaking the skin. But let that alone, as Mrs. Bangs says, ‘tis no concern of ours.
The happy Francis Floss took his beautiful bride home to a handsome, well-furnished house; and never was there a bride that had less to do with sublunary affairs than Mrs. Bangs’s thirteenth daughter. For in the first place, there was she—the mother—both able and willing to relieve her darling of all the cares of marketing. There were Robina, Christina, Josephine and Philippa, by right of seniority and by having taught her to read and spell—for good Hannah French being very deaf could not make much display of erudition in these branches—and by making and mending for her all her brief life, were they not fairly entitled to do the same kind offices for her still, particularly as she had now a husband who would require all her time? There were Augusta, Johanna, Gabriella, and Georgiana, what suited them as well as to go from the garret to the cellar, and thence back again, to see that no dust or cobweb found a place there? Were there not Wilhelmina, Jacobina, Frederica, and Benjamina to fuss about the pantries and kitchen, and to keep the larders and store room filled with the choicest and best?
There was deaf Hannah French, too, to see that the fire was carefully raked up at night; for Hannah, on the evening of the wedding day, without question, or leave, or license—but to no one’s surprise—quietly took her night things and her little work basket, and followed the bride home. She took possession of a snug room in the back building, which room she kept till her dying day. And there was Mr. Bangs himself; did he not every night, on his way home from his club, where he had spent all his evenings, excepting Sunday, for thirty years; did he not open the street door with his night-key, walk to the back door, bolt that and then latch the inside parlour window-shutters? He did this at his own house, from the day of his marriage, for his wife left this part of housekeeping duty purposely for him, “to keep him in mind,” she said, “that he had a house and family to protect from thieves.” Fanny Floss thought it part of her duty to let her father do this for her likewise; and her husband was so accustomed to all their ways, that he naturally fell into these agreeable regularities himself.
Well, then, Mr. Floss was a happy man; he went to the laboratory and came home; went and came; went and came, for seven years; and whenever his step was heard in the hall Fanny ran to meet him, to give him a kiss. If it rained, there was a dry coat ready for him; and if the day were warm, then she stood in the hall with a thin coat and a glass of lemonade. Every evening he saw her in the rocking-chair, either sewing or knitting; for now the three days for the poor had grown to three times three. Her good temper and excellent nature never varied; she was the gentlest, the tenderest, the purest and the most devoted wife that man was ever blessed with—what could he desire more? Did he wish her altered? Would any man wish such a wife to change?
Mr. Floss, as I observed, had an inquiring mind, and he went on from one point to another until he became a man of consequence; and, as Mr. Bangs predicted, when he saw his name up, he was a candidate for Congress. Mrs. Bangs had some indistinct notion that a Congressman was a grandee; but it passed through her head like a dream; for it was only in her dreams that her fancy was ever excited. Her daughters never so much as pondered on the word; and as to Fanny, that sweetest and gentlest of human beings, it would have been cruel to mention the thing to her. Going to Congress would have sounded to her like going down a deep pit, among miners; or sailing in an open boat to Botany Bay. “Don’t tell Fanny of it, my dear Francis; it will only set her to wondering and crying, for she can’t understand it,” said good Mrs. Bangs; “but let that alone, ‘tis no concern of ours.”
So Mr. Floss said nothing when he went home; and, in the evening, as Fanny sat in the rocking chair, singing an evening hymn, in a low, sweet voice, he looked steadily at her, for five minutes, and watched the innocent play of her beautiful modest face, and gave the matter up. “It will never do,” said he, “for as to leaving her behind, that is out of the question; neither of us could bear the separation; and as to taking her to Washington—Good Heavens!”