When marble is stained with fruit, oxalic acid diluted with water, or oil of vitriol and water, rubbed on the stain and left a few minutes, will remove the spot; but they must be used with care, for if left on too long they will destroy the polish of the marble. Rub off very dry, and polish with chamois-skin.
There are a multitude of receipts for removing stains both from linen and marble, but very many, although they remove the stains, are liable to remove the cloth also, or in marble destroy the polish; others are useful, and in time our readers shall have them.
LXVII.
THE SLAVERY OF FASHION.
“WORN OUT,” “Overtaxed,” “Used up,” “Too tired for anything,” are expressions daily heard from mothers and housekeepers; and the languid step, pale, care-worn face, and heavy eyes bear witness that these are not foolish, unmeaning words, but all too near the truth for safety. Most are ready to recognize the fact that half the feebleness and ill health among women arises from over-exertion while attempting to carry burdens too weighty for the constitution. Yet how much of this is needless, in no wise increasing the comfort or happiness of the family circle, but, in every department of household labor, the result of blind, unreasoning adherence to the dictates of fashion. Look backward but one half-century. Are those of us who require three or four servants to keep the household machinery in working order any happier than our mothers were? We turn from our fashionable cooking and elaborately served tables with longing for the simpler yet most excellent cooking of the olden time, when one servant was sufficient, and often none at all was required; the mother, with her little daughters round her, preferring to do all the work without a servant, that she might herself teach her young girls the lessons of domestic economy as none but a mother can teach them.
Was all that labor more wearing to health and strength than the cruel bondage in which we live, while laboring to secure, from servants, the care and efficient work absolutely necessary to the present style of living? With how much more appetite we partook of the plainly cooked and more healthful food in those days, undisturbed by the bustle and confusion of many courses, or the constant attendance of a waiter, whose eyes and ears are usually more observing of the little pleasantries and freedom of the family circle than of the service which a fashionable style demands, and whose tongue is ready to retail all that is said or done at our table, and “with additions strange.” The meal finished, the labor of clearing away and washing the many dishes now required is fourfold what was demanded in the times of more simple and pleasure-giving customs, to say nothing of the reckless heedlessness and destruction fostered by the haste necessary to be ready for the next formal meal.
But the slavery of providing for the table is nothing in comparison with the over-exertion which fashionable dress exacts. Even if the labor of the olden time was burdensome, and time and strength too heavily taxed, yet the exercise of the whole body, and frequent opportunities of breathing fresh outdoor air, which housework compels, were far more likely to secure firm health than can be hoped for if one sits for hours bending over ruffling and trimmings, thereby restricting the proper action of the lungs, and straining the eyes until they become weak and prematurely old. In many cases this must all be done without help, for few, comparatively, can afford to hire a seamstress, and yet be able to spend money as lavishly on such elaborate dress as the present monstrous style demands. But we are not sure that even that herculean task is as injurious to health and happiness as the severe strain on strength, nerves, and temper, which those ladies whose purses are always full experience in traversing the city, roaming from store to store, in their anxiety to secure the first and newest style, and at the same time torturing themselves lest, after all this labor, they should misjudge or be beguiled into wrong selections. With this fear ever present, they repeat those tiresome journeys day after day, making themselves disagreeable and uncomfortable, and exhausting the wonderful long-suffering and patience of the shopkeepers before they can decide which of all the many patterns they will purchase.
But the material being at last selected, can they now rest from their labors? Ah, no! their trials are but just begun. The ruling power in the fashionable world—the dress-maker—condescends to acknowledge that the articles selected are all satisfactory, though twenty or even thirty yards are hardly enough for a full dress (our mothers looked very fine and far more inviting and graceful with but ten yards in their dresses). But now comes the great struggle. How shall the dress be made? Mrs. —— has twelve small frills or flounces around her skirt, and a train two feet long; then there must be a bustle “ever so big,” over which falls a pannier, with puffs, bows, buttons innumerable, bands, folds, and—mercy! we are getting beyond our depth, for we cannot possibly understand all the terms given to the piles upon piles of strange “fixings” which go to make up the whole of that most abominable deformity called a fashionable dress. But the poor harassed devotee has them all at her tongue’s end, for her heart is full of them. If Mrs. —— has a dozen ruffles or puffs, she will not be outdone, but will have eighteen or twenty, and a bustle twice as big, which shall extend her overskirt and all its puffs and bands twice as far; and ever so many more dozen buttons all over,—above, below, before, behind, between the frills or bows,—anywhere, so that Mrs. ——’s trimmings are surpassed. “But, truly, now, dear madam, is this the very latest style? Isn’t there something just a little newer?” And then another discussion begins, anxious, nervous, and trembling, lest some one should be a little ahead of her in style. The poor slave spends many precious hours before she dares to decide on the pattern. But at last that question is settled; and now another trouble assails her. The arrogant dress-maker well understands the power these devotees of fashion have vested in her hands, and her victims, proud, sensitive, and overbearing perhaps to all others, must bow to her will and caprices. She will take her own time to finish the work.
“But, O madam! I must have it for this party, before any one else has this new style.”
She pleads in vain. No coaxing will avail. She must await the despot’s will, and spend hours or days excited and unhappy, fearing that the dress will not be finished in season for the party. And when at last it comes, look at it! We could laugh, were we not ashamed to think that women can be so absurd. What can be more uncouth, ungraceful, or deforming than a lady dressed in the extreme of fashion, or indeed with but half the absurdities that are daily seen. A camel, with its hump and peculiar gait, is graceful compared with the figures with frowzy hair, dresses puffed and looped up over a bustle, that we see stooping and tottering on high-heeled boots, or with the additional incumbrance of a long trail, sweeping through our parlors, and, at the slightest beck of fashion, drabbling through the mud.
Will our women never learn that they are giving health and strength, almost life, “for that which satisfieth not”? Once in a while, when the bondage has pressed too heavily, and they sink exhausted on a sick-bed, some few wake to a dreamy kind of consciousness of their folly; or a mother, who has endeavored to make her little girl as “fine as the finest,” is prostrated by giving her strength for this absurd waste of time and comfort, and begins to see that there is a better way she can manifest her love for her child.