“But country girls are not often ladylike and graceful; and work outdoors will tend to make them still more awkward. I couldn’t endure to see my little girl brought up under such influences.”
We have never found in the city more graceful, ladylike, intelligent, pure-minded girls than we have seen in the country; but we have sometimes noticed that those who live nearest to the city, or have spent much time there, too often acquire artificial habits, affectation, coquetry, loud, bold speech, or a fondness for dress, too stylish for a truly modest girl’s adorning, that is seldom seen in real country life. We do not think that any kind or amount of labor will make one less modest or ladylike. We believe that our girls should know how to do, with their own hands, everything that they have strength for, and thereby secure and establish vigor and capacity for duties that, in after years, may fall to their lot. We do not mean that outdoor labor should be their habitual employment. We wish them to have the actual knowledge; but the heavier work, which more appropriately belongs to boys and men, should be undertaken by girls and women only on an emergency. Then love or will, or both united, can make woman strong to do the hardest work, if she has the knowledge, while the necessity lasts. It is because such calls may be made on every one all through life, that we would have each one secure the knowledge early; but in extreme cases, the overstrain on a woman’s physical life, if long continued, will compel the payment of large interest in later years, and therefore should be undertaken through necessity only. God has not organized man and woman alike, physically; nor, do we believe, mentally either. We hasten to add, lest we should be arraigned for heresy, that we do not say they are not equal, but only different; the question of equality we wait for their own works to answer. Woman has sweeter, tenderer, dearer duties, demanding an organization distinct from that which fits man for his rougher, harder, more extended, more public, but not more noble work. We hear of women who have cut down their timber, built their walls, ploughed their fields, or done the blacksmithing for the neighborhood with their own hands, from choice,—a kind of work which we could not do, and would not if we could, unless driven to it by some pressing necessity; but we should like to store up the knowledge how to do it against the time of need. Still, we need not object if others take pleasure in it. Yet will not their own bodies, when they leave youth behind and go down to middle age, bear witness against the unnatural strain which they have been subjected to? Those whose office it is “to replenish the earth” cannot make these violent drafts upon their system with impunity. It is not for a regular, daily occupation that we would desire to have girls taught how to do their brothers’ work as well as their own, though much that pertains to that will always be pleasant and attractive, and light work in the open air will always furnish healthy exercise for our girls; but we want to see every member of the family so educated that there may never occur a vacancy about the home that some one, girl or boy, man or woman, is not able and willing to step into and fill satisfactorily. To this end, faithfully teach your little ones, girls or boys, to put their hands to any work that is necessary.
“Next you will tell us to let our girls saw and split wood, milk the cows, harness and unharness the horse, etc.”
Yes. Why not? They should know how to do all this, and do it well; and try it often enough to feel at ease and without fear in the effort, and that will be sufficient for the present. But suppose in a few years your daughter marries, and goes from you to some distant settlement where neighbors are scarce and “help” uncertain. Girls of wealth and refinement have done such things. Let the monotony of frontier life be occasionally enlivened by a real attack of chills and fever in which all take a part. When husband and “help,” if your daughter is so fortunate as to secure any, take their turn in shaking, will not the wife look back to the time when brother Will and she had their miniature saws and hatchets, and made much sport in preparing the kindlings? Won’t she see that the knowledge how to do this, which was simply amusement then, has been stored up for real service now? She little thought when grandpa taught her to milk old Brindle without fear of the gentle animal, how she would thank him for it in this far-off home. Are you sure that your little girl will never be placed in circumstances, for only a few hours perhaps, when she would be most thankful to know how to do any one of these things? Can you not imagine circumstances where it would be an incalculable blessing? We can, any number of them, not at all beyond the bounds of possibility. We have known cases where it was almost a matter of life or death, that a lady should have skill and courage to harness a horse and hasten for help. These cases may be rare; yet if they come but once in a lifetime, is not the lesson worth the learning? If you were driving a team—a very desirable accomplishment for any young lady—and the harness should break or become unfastened, ought you not, for your own safety, to know how to repair the mischief? Every girl should early learn how each part of the harness must be adjusted, else the pleasure and independence of being able to drive when older will be attended with much risk, and often with fatal consequences. Youth—early childhood—is the time to secure this knowledge, that you may be prepared to use it with confidence and self-control when needed. Even if it is never needed in later life, knowing how will not injure any one.
XXVIII.
STEALING SERVANTS.
IN The Christian Union a while ago, “Laicus” gives the history of a transaction between two neighbors, in which he thinks the indignation manifested by one of the parties was uncalled for, and her objection to the proceeding of the other “but a relic of the old-time slave system.” The case given was in this wise.
Mrs. Potiphar, it seems, “picks up a little girl in New York, and goes through all the trouble, discomfort, and anxiety of teaching her, until she becomes, at last, a very useful and efficient servant.” Those who have undertaken the training of young girls, not their own, will agree that Mrs. Potiphar’s task was not an enviable one, and that the girl owed her a debt of gratitude, which faithful, willing service alone could pay. As the child improved under this training, wages were given, until after five years’ education she received ten dollars a month. Mrs. Potiphar, appreciating the good qualities the girl had developed, failed not to give her ample praise; said she was “worth her weight in gold,” an expression very common, yet not usually taken literally; but she did not increase her wages. It may have been that she gave all that the work demanded of her was worth, or all that she could afford to give; it matters not which; it is no evidence, however, that she wished to defraud the girl of her just dues; it argues no injustice on Mrs. Potiphar’s part. But good friends, kind neighbors, behind her back, said it was a shame to pay Sophia so little; while to the lady’s face, however, they gave smiles and congratulations “upon her good luck.” Ah, what a pity that gossiping, meddling, and backbiting should be found in this beautiful world of ours. How much trouble and mischief these vices have caused! Much of the discomfort and disturbance in our households springs from this evil spirit, making servants fickle and unfaithful, and their mistresses’ life a burden. And it is all so needless! There is little fear, even when not tampered with, that girls will remain long on low wages, unless the privileges and kind care bestowed upon them are of more value than larger pay, and they have the good sense so to understand it. Every girl has a perfect right to seek the highest remuneration, and so that she gives her present employer reasonable notice, to enable her to secure other assistance, or to offer her larger wages, however great the disappointment to the lady may be, the girl has acted honorably and is worthy of no censure. But in the case cited by “Laicus,” Mrs. Chessleburg’s course is so repugnant, so foreign to all our ideas of honor, that we should hope there was some mistake in print, did we not know such acts are of daily occurrence.
Mrs. Potiphar has an excellent waiting-maid, just what Mrs. Chessleburg wants. Mrs. Chessleburg is much exercised in her mind because Mrs. Potiphar gives the poor girl such low wages.
“She is well worth fourteen dollars a month to me, if she is worth a penny.” Four dollars extra would be quite an addition to Sophia’s income. To be sure it would. So her nurse-girl goes confidentially (privately we presume that means) and tells Sophia that Mrs. Chessleburg will give her fourteen dollars a month if she will leave the lady, who, five years ago, “picked her up in New York,” and has taught her, during these years, to be such a desirable servant. The girl goes, of course. Mrs. Potiphar thinks it mean “to steal her girl away in that style.” So do we. Is it strange that we think Mrs. Chessleburg’s desire to right the girl’s supposed wrongs had its origin less in real benevolence than in the selfish anxiety to secure a valuable servant for herself? We certainly must, notwithstanding “Laicus’s” perplexity, join with the ladies in thinking Mrs. Chessleburg’s proceeding highly objectionable, and are confident employees as well as employers will agree in this matter.
We read the article in question to the superintendent of our farm, and said, “How does this strike you? How shall we answer this question? If the girl’s work was worth more than ten dollars, was it not right that she should have it?”