'There is a Reaper whose name is Death,And with his sickle keen,He reaps the bearded grain at a breath;And the flowers that grow between.'He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,He raised their drooping leaves,It was for theLord of ParadiseHe bound them in his sheaves.'Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath,The Reaper came that day;'Twas an angel visited the green earthAnd took those flowers away.'
'There is a Reaper whose name is Death,And with his sickle keen,He reaps the bearded grain at a breath;And the flowers that grow between.'He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,He raised their drooping leaves,It was for theLord of ParadiseHe bound them in his sheaves.'Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath,The Reaper came that day;'Twas an angel visited the green earthAnd took those flowers away.'
'There is a Reaper whose name is Death,And with his sickle keen,He reaps the bearded grain at a breath;And the flowers that grow between.
'There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath;
And the flowers that grow between.
'He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,He raised their drooping leaves,It was for theLord of ParadiseHe bound them in his sheaves.
'He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He raised their drooping leaves,
It was for theLord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
'Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath,The Reaper came that day;'Twas an angel visited the green earthAnd took those flowers away.'
'Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth
And took those flowers away.'
"A holy calm has settled upon the face of the mourner. Noiselessly she retraces her steps, and as she glides away, I hear her murmur, in a voice of submission:
'Oh!notin cruelty,notin wrathThe Reaper came that day,'Twas anangelvisited the green earthAnd tookmy floweraway.'
'Oh!notin cruelty,notin wrathThe Reaper came that day,'Twas anangelvisited the green earthAnd tookmy floweraway.'
'Oh!notin cruelty,notin wrath
The Reaper came that day,
'Twas anangelvisited the green earth
And tookmy floweraway.'
"The splendid mansion of the physician had for its mistress the orphan governess. The world, with its sycophantic smile, now flatters, where it once frowned. Both are alike to Grace, who has given her warm heart, 'till death do us part,' to one who knows well how to prize the gift."
Fanny says herself, she "knowsallabout him." Now who in the world so fit to deliver a discourse on the subject, as so intimate an acquaintance? Beside, we have seen already that Fanny is in the habit of writing about her friends. Satanmightthink it a little unjust to be held responsible for babies and women's rights movements, but Fanny knows best, so here follows her sermon, text and all:—
"Satan finds some mischief stillFor idle hands to do."
"Satan finds some mischief stillFor idle hands to do."
"Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."
"To be sure he does! I know all about him!There's no knowing whatwouldhappen, if the houses now-a-days were not filled up, one half with babies and the other half with old stockings!Then a man can tell pretty near, what his wife is about!—sure to find her, year in and year out, in that old calico wrapper, in that old ricketty rocking-chair, with the last new twins in her arms, when he wants a button sewed on his coat to go to the opera.No other way, you see!
"Women are gettingaltogethertoo smart now-a-days; theremustbe a stop put to it! people are beginning to get alarmed! I don't suppose there has been such a universal crowing since the roosters in Noah's ark were let out, as there was among the editors when that 'Swisshelm'babywas born! It's none ofmybusiness, but itdidseem to meratheracircular singumstance, that she should be cut short in her editorial career that way! I suppose, however, that baby will grow out of her arms one of these days, spite of fate; and then, if there's noprovidential interposition, she may resume her pen again. Well, I hope it will be awarning! the fact is,womenhave no business to be crowding into the editorial chair. Supposing theyknowenough to fill it (which Idoubt! hem!) they oughter 'hide their light under a b'—aby!
"I tell you, editorswon't standit, to have their masculine toes trod on that way. They'll have to sign a 'quit claim' to their 'dickeys' by and by! I wonder what the world's coming to!What do you suppose our forefathersandforemotherswould say, to see a woman sitting up in the editorial chair, as pert as a piper, with a pen stuck behind her little ears? phew! I hopeInever shall see such a horrid sight!"
Miss Charity Crackbone was a spinster; not that she ever 'spun street yarn.' Oh no! but she spun tremendous long 'yarns' with hertongue, and had spun out forty years of her life in single blessedness, in a shop at the corner of Pin Alley, where you could purchase, for a consideration, gingerbread and shoe-blacking, hooks-and-eyes and cholera pills, razors and sugar candy, crackers and castor-oil, head-brushes and butter, small tooth combs and molasses.
"Not having sufficient employment in superintending her own affairs, she very philanthropically undertook to manage those of her neighbors; and, like all persons of weak intellect, had an astonishing memory forlittlethings; could tell you the very hour, of the very day, of the very week, andmonth, and year, you were born; how long you were employed in cutting your first tooth, what tailoress had the honor of introducing you into jacket and trowsers, and when you put on your first long-tail coat.
"Miss Charity's 'outward man' was not remarkably felicitous; her figure much resembling a barber's pole in its proportions. She generally preferred dresses of the flabbiest possible material, and a very tight fit; so that her projecting bones were no mystery, and as the skirt lacked two or three inches of reaching the ground, it revealed a pair of feet and ankles evidently intended more forusethanornament. Her hair was the color of a dirty blanket, and her eyes bore a strong resemblance to a drop of indigo in a pan of buttermilk.
"'Good morning, Charity,' said a fellow gossip; 'sucha budget of news!'
"Charity dropped her knitting-work, seized one chair for her visitor, and placed herself on another in front of her, with both elbows on her knees, and her face as near Miss Pettingill's as possible, lest she should lose a word; exclaiming,
"'For the land's sake, make haste and begin.Who did what?The cat's tail pointed north this morning, and Iknewit was thefore-end of a runnerof something.'
"'I declare, I don't know which endtobegin,' said Pettingill; 'sucha piece of work! This is a wicked, abominable world, Charity. You know that Mrs. Clark?'
"'Land alive! don't I though? Wasn't I the first one to tell that her husband ran off and left her; and that she was a flirt and extravagant? Not that Iknewshe was, myself, but I heard tell so, and what you hear said ismostalways true. Besides, she's pretty, and that's always against a woman, as you and I know, Pettingill. Who ever heard any body talk againstus?' and she set her arms a-kimbo as if 'pistols for two' would be sent for, if they did! 'Well, what has the creature donenow, Pettingill?'
"'Why, you know she boards at Deacon Ephraim Snow's—I wonder at his having her in his house, and he adeacontoo. But you know Mrs. Clark has 'mazin pretty ways with her, and she's got round him somehow. Well, you know I do washing for his wife, and speaking ofthat, she's horrid stingy of her soap. Well, t'other day she sent me up garret, as it rained, to hang up the clothes, and as I went by Mrs. Clark's room, it struck me I'd just peep into the key-hole and listen a bit.' Here Charity drew up her chair so closethat the tips of their noses met; saying, in a hoarse whisper,
"'Whatdidyou see?'
"'La! don't frighten me so,' said Pettingill; 'your eyes look like a cat's in the dark! I saw a very fine-looking gentleman—'
"'I'll warrant it,' said Charity, with a triumphant chuckle.
"'And I heard him say, 'Edith, dear—'
"Here Charity pushed back her chair and rolled up the whites of her eyes like a duck in a thunderstorm.
"'Edith dear,' says he, 'rely upon me; never heed these slanderous stories; I will be your protector.' There, Charity, what do you think of that?'
"'She is a church-member,' said Charity, thoughtfully, 'isn't she? keep quiet, and watch her, the hypocrite! Did you say anything about it to Mrs. Snow, or the deacon!'
"'Not I,' said Pettingill; 'it would have fetchedmeout, you know, forlistening; but I'm convinced the man has a 'canister' motive in going there.'
"'Sinister,' said Charity, reprovingly, who considered herself a scholar.
"'Well,canisterorsinister, it makes no difference tome,' said Pettingill. 'I know whatIthink ofher. It's no use talking to the Snow's;theywon't believe anything against her.'
"'That's very true,' said Mrs. Snow, who had entered unperceived, and heard a great part of their conversation. 'Mrs. Clark has been with us six months, and is blameless and correct in her deportment. She has been shamefully ill-treated and slandered by her husband, asIknow, and the gentleman about whom you were getting up such a fine story is herbrother, who has just returned from Europe. When he said he 'would protect her,' he intended to be as good as his word; and for your own sakes I would advise you tobear it in mind. I have the pleasure to wish you both good-morning.'
"'There's a tempest in a thimble,' said Charity, as she drew a long breath.
"'Ain't it, though!' said Pettingill. 'But I'll warrant we shall catch her tripping yet. These 'grass widows,' you know.'
"'Yes,' said Charity—'and so pretty, too. I never saw aprettywoman that behaved herself."
Horace Mann, in his lecture on "Woman," says: "I see but one reason why woman should not preach the gospel, and that reason is, that it is ten thousand times better to go aboutpractisingthe gospel, than even to preach it."
"On this hint," Fanny characteristically waxes eloquent.
"I'm perfectly ready to close my female eyes now! Here's justice meted out to our suffering sex at last, and by aMan-n, too! Nobody can disturb the serenity of my soul to-day. I feel like a crowned martyr; could shake hands with every enemy I have except ——! Anybody any 'little favors' to ask, now is their time! If my bonnet wasn't bran new, I'd toss it up till it got hitchedon the horn ofsomecelestial dilemma. Wonder if all those democrat cannons are used up? It's outrageous there's no way provided for a woman to express her surplus enthusiasm. If I roll up my eyes, it may suggest a pitcher of water in my face; hysterics would but feebly express my emotions; (besides, I don't know how they are got up) no use in fainting unless there's somebody 'worth while' at hand to bring you to. What's to be done? I'll borrow a 'True Flag,' and hoist it. I'll go into the woods and shout huzza! Never mind whether he's married or single—he's too much of a curiosity for amonopoly. Barnum must have him; he belongs to the world in general. He's booked for immortality! Napoleon, and Hannibal, and Cæsar weren't a circumstance! Just think of Horace Mann'smoral couragein propagating such an unpopular sentiment! I shall have to get out a Fern dictionary. Can't find words to express my tumultuous emotions!"
Shadrach, Meshek, and Molock! how hot it is! I pity omnibus horses and ministers; I pity the little victims of narrow benches and short recesses; I pity ignorant young mothers with teething babies; I pity the Irish who huddle in a cellar and take boarders in each corner; I pity consumptive semptresses who "sing the song of the shirt" for six cents per day; I pity dandies with tight boots; I pity cooks and blacksmiths, and red-haired people; I pity anybody who doesn't live in a refrigerator, and hasn't aFantotemperthe air.
This is a subject on which Fannyoughtto speakfeelingly. Her article thus entitled, is, however, full of funny hits, doubtless much like the roses which crown the skeleton, or the smiles which hide the heart-ache. Poor Fanny!
"Domestie peace can never bepreservedin family jars."
"Domestie peace can never bepreservedin family jars."
Mr. Jeremiah Stubbs was rash enough to remark, one morning, to his wife Keziah, "that, after all, women had little or nothing to do; that he only wished she knew the responsibilities of a man of business." (Jeremiah kept a small shop, well stocked with maple sugar, suspicious looking doughnuts, ancient pies and decayed lemons.)—"Yes, Keziah, if you only knew the responsibilitiesof aman of business,' said Jeremiah, fishing up the corner of his dickey from a questionable looking red neckerchief that protected his jugular.
"'Well, let me know 'em, then,' said his wife, tying on her bonnet. 'Seeing is believing. We will change works for one day. You get breakfast, tend the baby, and wash and dress the other three children, and I'll go down and open shop.'
"Jeremiah didn't exactly look for this termination to the discussion; but he was a man, and of course never backed out; so he took a survey of the premises, wondering which end to begin, while Keziah went on her way rejoicing, took down the shutters like a master-workman, opened shop, made a fire, arranged the tempting wares above mentioned, with feminine ingenuity; putting the best side of everything uppermost, and wishing she had nothing else to do, from day to day, but stand behind the counter and sell them.
"This accomplished, she went home to breakfast. There sat Jeremiah, in a chair, in the middle of the room, with one side of his beard shaved off, and the lather drying on the remainder, trotting a little blue-looking wretch, in a yellow flannel night-gown, who was rubbing some soft gingerbread into his bosom with his little fists, by way of amusement. The coffee had boiled over intothe ashes, and Thomas Jefferson and Napoleon Buonaparte Stubbs were stirring up the miniature pond with Jeremiah's razor. James Madison was still between the sheets, vociferating loudly for 'his breakfast.'
"Looking with a curious eye over the pile of scorched toast for a piece that was eatable, Keziah commenced her breakfast, referring her interesting young family to their paternal derivative for a supply of their numerous wants. At last he placed a cup of muddy coffee before him, congratulating himself that his labors were ended, when the baby, considering it an invasion of his rights, made a dive at it, and he sprang from his chair with the scalding contents dripping from his unwhisperables, and—a word that church-members don't use—hissing from between his teeth.
"Calm as a summer morning, Keziah replaced her time-worn straw upon her head, telling Jerry that her children must be prepared for school at nine o'clock, the room must be swept and righted, the breakfast things washed, the potatoes boiled, and the mince-meat prepared for dinner by twelve. Her husband grinned a ghastly smile, and told her 'that was easy done.' No such thing. The comb couldn't be found; he had to wipe JamesMadison's presidential phiz-mahogany on the corner of the table-cloth. Napoleon Buonaparte's pinafore had been used to wipe the dishes; Thomas Jefferson had rejoiced twice in a pair of boxed ears, for devouring the contents of the sugar-bowl; and that little yellow flannel night-gown was clutching at his heels, every step he took over the floor.
"Miserable Jeremiah! didn't you wish you were a woman? Well, 'time and tide wait for no man.' Twelve o'clock came, and so did Keziah. Her husband would rather have seen the —— hem! The bed was unmade, the children's hair stood up 'seven ways of a Sunday,' the cat was devouring the meat, the baby had the chopping-knife, and Napoleon Buonaparte was playing ball with the potatoes.
"Jeremiah's desire for immediate emancipation overcame his pride, and passing his armshalf-wayaround Keziah's waist, (it was so large that he always made a chalk mark where he left off embracing, that he might know where to begin again,) he told her she was an angel, and he was a poor miserable wretch, and was ready to acknowledge his mistake. Keziah very quietly withdrew from his arm, told him the bargain was made for the day, and she would change works at night;and treating herself to a piece of bread and butter, she departed. Jerry sat for a minute looking into the fire, then reaching down a huge parcel of maple-sugar, he put it on the floor, and seating all the young hopefuls round it, turned the key on them and the scene of his cares, mounted his beaver on his aching head, and rushed to ——'s for awhiskey punch! The room was nice and tidy, the fire was comfortable, the punch wasstrong, and Jeremiah wasweak. He wokeabout dark, from troubled dreams of broomsticks and curtain lectures, and not having sufficient courage to encounter their fulfilment, has left Keziah to the glorious independence of a 'California widow.'"
The following sketch has been pronounced by a talented Boston editor, to be the finest and sweetest article Fanny Fern ever penned. The very thought might well have served as inspiration. What roof-tree where the tears have not fallen? What household that counts not part of its number by tomb-stones?
"Two in heaven.—'You have two children,' said I.
"'I have four,' was the reply; 'two on earth, two in heaven.'
"There spoke the mother! Still hers! only 'gone before!' Still remembered, loved and cherished, by the hearth and at the board; their places not yet filled; even though their successors drawlife from the same faithful breast wheretheirdying heads were pillowed.
"'Two in heaven!'
"Safely housed from storm and tempest; no sickness there; nor drooping head, nor fading eye, nor weary feet. By the green pastures; tended by the Good Shepherd, linger the little lambs of the heavenly fold.
"'Two in heaven!'
"Earth less attractive! Eternity nearer! Invisible cords, drawing the maternal soul upwards. 'Still small' voices, ever whisperingcome! to the world-weary spirit.
"'Two in heaven!'
"Mother of angels! Walk softly! holy eyes watch thy footsteps! cherub forms bend to listen! Keep thy spirit free from earth-taint; so shalt thou 'go to them,' though they may not 'return to thee.'"
Mrs. Daisy styled herself apattern wife; a bright and shining light in the matrimonial firmament. She had inscribed on her girdle these words, from John Milton, or Mother Goose, I forget which: 'Hefor God only,shefor God inhim.'
"She never laced her boots without asking her husband's advice, and the length of her boddice, or the depth of her flounces, were dependent upon his final decision. She went into strong convulsions at sight of a 'Bloomer,' and rolled up the whites of her eyes, like a duck in a thunderstorm, at the mention of the 'Woman's Rights' Convention,' and considered any woman who persisted in lovingwhitebread, when her husband atebrown, as only fit for the place where——air-tight stovesand furnaces are unnecessary! Her voice was soft and oily; she never spoke above her breath, and her motions were slow, funereal and perpendicular.
"And now I suppose you imagine Didymus was master of his own house!Deuce a bit of it!There was a look in the corner of his wife's eye that was as good as a loaded musket, and he fetched and carried accordingly, like a trained spaniel, tiptoeing through life on a chalk-mark, andprecious carefulatthat; confining his observation of the world to the latitude and longitude of her apron-strings. But it was always 'husband,' and 'dear Daisy,' even when he knew his life wasn't worth two cents if he abated one jot or tittle of his matrimonial loyalty.
"It was very refreshing to hear her ask him 'his opinion' in company, and his diplomatic windings and twistings on those occasions were worthy of the wiliest politician that ever flourished at the 'White House.' As to speaking to any other female than Mrs. Daisy, he would as soon have ordered his own coffin; and, truth to tell, this was where the matrimonial yoke weighed the heaviest, for Didymus (unlucky wretch) had an eye for a dainty waist or a pair of falling shoulders, or a light, springing step; but the way he had to'shoulder!march!' when they 'hove in sight,' was crucifying to his feelings!
"Mrs. Daisy always went with him, to and from the store, for 'exercise.'(?) He was never allowed to go out after dark; his evenings being mainly occupied in holding skeins of silk, or sorting knots of 'German Worsted,' to give his wife an opportunity to immortalize her genius in transforming the same into hump-backed dogs, deformed lambs and rabbits, with ears twice as long as their bodies. Under such watchful guardianship he was in a fair way to be able to omit entirely at his orisons, this petition—'Lead us not into temptation.'
"This hymeneal strait-jacket was more particularly affecting, inasmuch as Mrs. Daisyherselfwas not what hernamewould seem to suggest, saving that she was very red. It was the problem of her life to find dresses and hats that 'agreed with her complexion,' and she might well have exclaimed 'howexpensive it is to be ugly.'
"Well, 'it's a long lane that has no turning;' and so Didymus thought, when he woke up one fine morning and found himself a widower! Did you ever see a poor robin let loose from a cage? or a mouse released from the clutches of grimalkin? or a kitten emancipated from an easy-chair, where she had been mistaken for a cushion bysome fat old lady of about two hundred weight? Well—I say nothing! The satisfaction with which Didymus ordered his 'weeds,' spoke for itself! InHISmental rainbow,blackwas hereafter to be 'couleur de rose!' He purchased Mrs. Daisy anicecoffin, and aSTRONGone; and his speech to Miss Maria Fitz Bumble was cut and dried, and ready for delivery as soon as he had safely planted hisfirstDaisy in the earth!
"Didymus was amanagain! He dared to look himself in the face! He stood up straight, and, clapping his hand on his waistband, exclaimed—'Daisy,thisis living, old boy!' Julius Cæsar! what ails the man, as he turns his horrified gaze towards the bed!
"'There—there!that'll do!' said Mrs. Daisy. 'Don't make a donkey of yourself, Didymus, becausethatis unnecessary! I was only in afaint, my dear! AFEINT—ha! ha! I think I understand younow, from Genesis to Revelations. Thatblackcoat's agood fit;—verybecoming, too!Maria—Fitz—B-u-m-b-l-e-e!! There, that'llDO, Didymus.Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm just as good asnew!'"
Under this title appeared in the columns of the True Flag, one of Fanny's most effective sketches. Thus ran the tale:—
"'Good-bye, dearest mother,' said Emma, as she pressed her lips to her forehead. 'Let me bring your foot-stool and your spectacles before I go. We shall have a lovely drive, and I'll not stay after nightfall.'
"As she listened to the sound of the retreating wheels, Mrs. Leland said to herself, 'I'm selfish to be unwilling to part with Emma, but she is so good and so beautiful. Her presence is like a ray of sunshine; my room seems so dark and cheerless when she leaves me; and yet it will not be long that I can watch over her; and when thesedim eyes are closing, it will be a comfort to know that she has a protector and a husband.'
"Mrs. Leland was a widow—that name always suggestive of desolation, want and sorrow. Her husband, however, had left herself and Emma enough to keep them from suffering, and the latter had made her musical talents available in driving poverty from the door.
"About a year before the date of my story, Emma had met with Lionel. Of prepossessing exterior and polished manners, the young merchant had made himself a welcome guest at the quiet fireside of the widow. Thoughtful and attentive to Mrs. Leland, he had already yielded her the devotion of a son. She was alone most of the day, but when Emma returned to her at night, with her tasks completed, and they were seated around their little table, and Emma herself prepared the nice cup of tea that was to refresh her invalid mother, and evening came, and with it Lionel, with his bright, handsome face, and winning smile and soft low tones; how quickly the hours fled away! And now she was soon to be his bride. Their cottage home in the outskirts of the city was already chosen, and thither they had gone to make arrangements for their removal. And who so happy as the lovers, that long, bright, summerafternoon? The little cottage rooms were carefully inspected; the pretty rosebush was trained anew over the low door-way, and the gardener had especial orders to take care of the nice flowerbeds and gravel walks. Amid the last sweet carol of the birds, when the flowers, heavy with the falling dew, were drowsily nodding their heads, and the first bright star of evening was timidly stealing forth; in the dim, fragrant twilight, again and again they exchanged new vows of love.
"When Emma remembered the dull and cheerless past, life seemed now to her a fairy dream; she trembled tobeso happy. Then a dark shadow would pass before her eyes, and she would say, shudderingly, 'What if a change should come!' but she looked in Lionel's face, and remembered it no more.
"Home was gained at last, Lionel assisted his fair companion to alight; she sprang gaily up the steps, and was turning to wave her hand to him as he left, when she saw a man step up to him, lay his hand familiarly on his shoulder, and, taking the reins inhis own hands, drive off. Supposing him to be some friend, or business acquaintance, she thought no more of it, and passed into the house.
"'It is needless to ask you if you have enjoyedyour ride, my daughter,' said Mrs. Leland, looking with a mother's admiration at the bright flush on her cheek, and her sparkling eye.
"'Oh! it was so delightful, mother, at the cottage; and we shall be sohappythere,' said the fair girl, as she laid aside her pretty hat and shook from their confinement her long, bright tresses. Then, seating herself at the window, she commenced embroidering a part of her wedding dress.
"Soon after, a stranger called to see Mrs. Leland on business; and Emma withdrew to their little bed-room. She was sitting there, busy with her work; a song, sweet as a bird's carol trembled on her lips, when Mrs. Leland returned.
"'Emma!'
"She turned her head to see her mother's face overspread with the pallor of death. Springing to her side, she said, 'Mother! dear mother! who has dared? what has troubled you? who is this stranger?'
"Her mother pointed to the wedding dress, saying, (as if every word rent her heart-strings,)
"'Emma,you'll never need that! Lionel is arrested for forgery.'
"''Tis false!' Emma would have said, but the words died on her lips, and she fell heavily to the floor.
"One fainting fit succeeded another through that long, dreary night, till life seemed almost suspended. Morning came, and woke the sufferer to consciousness. Passing her hand slowly across her forehead, as if still bewildered, and unable to realize the dreadful change that had passed over her, she said,
"'Mother, I must go to Lionel!'
"'No, no,' said Mrs. Leland, ''tis no place for you, Emma.'
"Covering her face, as if to shut out some dreadful vision, she said, 'I care notwhereI find him, mother! I must go ordie. Would you kill your child?'
"The succeeding day found her at the prison door. As the key grated in the lock for her admittance, she shuddered and hung back; but it was only for an instant. Nerving herself, as by a strong effort, she advanced and threw herself, fainting, upon Lionel's breast. As the jailer came towards her, Lionel started to his feet, and with a fierce gesture, motioned him off. Pressing his lips to her cold forehead, he said to himself, 'If she would but pass away thus!' But death comes not at the bidding of the wretched, and there she lay, that young, fair thing, with her beautiful head bowed with grief and shame; still loving, stilltrusting, through dishonor and pain, with the strong, deep love ofa woman's heart. Even the stern jailer, though inured to scenes of human suffering, brushed away the tears with his rough hand from his furrowed cheeks, and said, 'God be merciful.'
"Few words were spoken by either, and the allotted hour passed by. One long embrace—and the wretched man was againalonein his cell, with an accusing conscience; the darker, the gloomier for the angel-light that was withdrawn.
"And Emma! She was borne back again to the arms that had pillowed her infancy, and laid her head upon her mother's breast like a tired child. The agony of that hour had done the work of years. The rose had faded from the cheek, the eyes were dim and lustreless. She only said, 'I'm weary.'
"And so weeks passed by. Nothing interested her, nothing seemed to rouse her from her apathy. At length news reached them of Lionel's escape! The change in Emma was instantaneous. Her manner became excited, nervous and hurried; she passed about the house arranging everything to the best advantage, as if expecting some friend or guest.
"One stormy night they sat at their little table,each busy with their own sad memories. The wind wailed dismally, and the beating rain had driven every living thing to seek a shelter. Mrs. Leland spoke of the fury of the storm, and Emma glanced toward the window. A dark face was prest close against it! Those eyes! (she passed her hand across her own, as if to clear her vision,) those eyes were Lionel's! Tottering as if bent by age, she staggered towards the door, and in a moment they were in each other's arms. What a night of fear, and horror, and joy was that! for he must away before the day should dawn.
"'Then you go notalone,' said Emma; 'if you have sinned you have alsosuffered.'
"'Yes, and it's but right he should,' said a rough voice, as the door was rudely burst, and a stout man advanced to make him prisoner.
"Lionel had prepared himself forthis. A flash! a report! the lovers lay side by side. They wereboth prisoners, butDeathwas thejailer!"
On this question hear Fanny!
"Mrs. Joseph Smith was the envy of all the wives in the neighborhood. Such apatternhusband as Smith was, to be sure! He never went across the room without hugging his wife first, and language would fail to describe their melancholy partings when he 'tore himself away,' to go down to the store. If the wind got round east after he had left, he always ran back to tell her to put on an extra petticoat; he cut up her food in homœopathic infinitessimal bits, to assist her digestion, and if she wanted an ice-cream or a lobster-salad in the middle of the night, it was forthcoming. Did she have the headache, the blinds were closed, the bell was muffled, and he was the most wretched of Smiths till she wasconvalescent. He selected her shoe-strings and corset-lacings himself, and when her health was too delicate to admit of her accompanying him to church, he always promised to sit in the middle of the house, so that in case the galleries should fall he needn't be made anyflatterthan he was by nature.
"The present Mrs. Smith was hisfourthwife, and as Joseph had been heard to say, that 'the more he loved his Elenore, the more he loved his Nancy, and the more he loved his Nancy, the more he loved his Julia and Mary,' any one with half an eye, could see how peculiarly felicitiousMrs. Mary Smith'sposition must be!
"There never was a sweet without a bitter; and so she found out, when Joseph announced to her that he 'must leave the little heaven of her smiles, to go on a short 'business trip.' Mary went into the strongest kind of hysterics, and burnt feathers and sal-volatile couldn't bring her out of them, till he swore on the dictionary to telegraph to her every hour, and carry his life preserver and a box of Russia salve.
"On arriving at the depot, a gentleman requested leave 'to place a lady under his protection,' who was travelling in the same direction. Smith looked at her; she was young and pretty,and dressed in deep mourning. 'A widow!' said Smith to himself. 'Certainly, sir, with pleasure.'
"How theydidget on! With opening and shutting the windows in the cars, pulling that travelling shawl round the pretty shoulders thatwouldn'tkeep it up, and trying to quiet her nerves when the cars went through 'the dark places,' Smith didn't know any more thanyouwhether they were travelling through France or Spain, and what's more, hedidn't care!
"Arriving at their place of destination much sooner than was necessary, (conductors and engineers have no bowels of mercy,) he escorted the widow to the house of her friend, taking the most disinterested care of the big and little bandboxes, and was strongly tempted to put an end to the life of the little poodle-dog she carried in her arms.
"An hour after, he sat down in his lonely quarters at the hotel, and dutifully drew towards him a sheet of paper to write to his wife. It ran as follows:—
"'My Dearest Wife: If you knew how utterly desolate I am without you. I can think of nothing else, and feel entirely unfitted for business. As forpleasure, that is out of the question, withoutyou. I've been bored to death with the care of an empty-headed woman—(you know I couldn'trefuse, my angel); but I never will be hampered so again. I long for the day that will return me to your arms. Your loving husband,
"'J. S——.'
"Then drawing towards him a nice sheet of embossed note-paper, he penned the following:—
"'My Dear Madam: Those blue eyes have never ceased to haunt me since we parted. Thank you for your flattering acceptance of my invitation to ride. I will call for you at four this afternoon. Till then, my heart is with you.
"'Yours, ever,
"'Joseph Smith.'
"Full two mortal hours Joseph spent at his 'twilight,' adorning his outer man. How those whiskers were curled and perfumed! What a fit were those primrose kid gloves! How immaculate was that shirt bosom! Howexcruciatinglythose boots pinched! The very horses pricked up their ears and arched their necks proudly, as if they knew what a freight of loveliness they were to carry.
"Arrived at the widow's Joseph handed the reins to a servant and was settling his pet curl,preparatory to mounting the stairs, when a letter was rudely thrust into his hand, and he was unceremoniously seized bythatdickey and sent spinning out upon the side-walk. As soon as he recovered breath, he picked himself up, and looked at the letter. Horror of horrors! He had placed the letters in the wrong envelopes! The widow had his wife's, and what was worse, his wife the widow's! Oh, Smith! Oh,JosephSmith!
"Moral.—Some think it wise to use envelopes, 'someothewise.'Josephinclines to thelatteropinion, and advises all 'pattern husbands' to be of the same mind. His message hails from California!"
We insert the following for the special benefit of the ladies. It is true, Fanny very characteristically informs us, that they 'don't all know as much asshedoes,' but then that is hardly to be expected.
"Tupper, speaking of the choice of a wife, says, 'Hath she wisdom? it is precious, butbeware that thou exceed!'
"My dear sir, wasn't you caught napping that time? Didn't you speak in meeting? Didn't cloven feet peep out of your literary shoes? Don't it take an American woman to see through you! Isn't that a tacit acknowledgment that therearewomen who do 'exceed?' Wouldn't you think so if you livedthisside the pond? Hope youdon't judgeusby John Bull's daughters, who stupefy themselves on roast-beef and porter. I tell you Yankee women are on the squirrel order. You'd lose your English breath trying to follow them. There isn't a man here in America that knows as much as his wife. Some of themownit, and some don't, but they all believe it, like gospel. They ask our opinion about everything. Sometimes straightforward, and sometimes in a circle—but theyask it! There are petticoats in the pulpit, petticoats in the editorial chair, petticoats in the lecturer's desk, petticoats behind the counter, petticoats labelled 'M. D.' Oh,they 'exceed!' no mistake about that. All femality is wide awake over here, Mr. Tupper. They crowd, and jostle, and push, just as if they wore hats. I don't uphold them inthat, because, as I tell them, 'tis better policy to play possum, and wear the mask of submission. No use in rousing anyunnecessaryantagonism.But they don't all know as much as I do.I shall reach the goal just as quick in my velvet shoes, as if I tramped on rough-shod as they do, with theirWoman's Rights Convention brogans!"
Why, Fanny Fern! Did you ever hear any old saying about practising and preaching? How came you ever to think of this sentiment? Oh, Fanny! you are a bornwriter of fiction. Didn't you prove your genius for that sort of thing when you wrote the following 'Fern.'
"Well, now, do you know I did that, till I came very near being mobbed in the street for a curiosity? I was verdant enough to believe that 'honesty was the best policy.' The first astonisher that I had, was on the occasion of the visit of a vain old lady to our house, before I was out of pantalettes. Her bonnet was stuck full of artificial flowers, looking as much out of place as a wreath of rosebuds on a mummy! Some such thoughtwas passing through my mind, as I stood looking at her—when, mistaking my protracted gaze for one ofadmiration, she faced square about, and asked me if I didn't think they werebecoming? 'No ma'am,' said I, never flinching a hair.Didn'tI get a boxed ear for that?
"Well, I didn't make out much better in my subsequent attempts to 'speak the truth;' and what visionary ever concocted such nonsense,I'mat a loss to know.
"I'd like to put the question to you, andyou, andYOU, and YOU!—Would the wheels of creation ever 'go ahead' without one everlasting intolerable squeak, if they were not 'oiled up' constantly with flattery? No shirking, now! no dodging the question!Of coursethey wouldn't! I humbly confess I ain't broke in myself, as much as I ought to be, but I'm learning by degrees! I can't help looking over my shoulder occasionally when anybody says a pretty thing to me to see if 'cloven foot' is anywhere round! but that will wear off in time. It almost killed me the first time I did the agreeable to a person I had no more respect for than Judas Iscariot, but I lived through it, though I don't take to it naturally!
"I've a tell-tale trick of blushing, too, when I'm being delivered of a lie, that stands very much inmy light. I'm afraid there's some defect in my organization. I've applied to two or three young physicians, but they only aggravate my complaint. I'm thinking of putting myself under the tuition of ——; if I don't 'take my degree'THEN, I'llgive upand done with it!
"Oh dear! it's an awful thing to grow up! to find your catechise, and Jack the Giant-Killer, and your Primer, and Mother Goose, all a humbug! To come across a wolf making 'sheep's eyes' at a lamb; to be obliged to make a chalk-mark on the saints to know them from the sinners; to see husbands, well—THERE! when I think ofTHEM, I must wait till a new dictionary is made before I can express my indignation! Wish I'd been introduced to Adam before he found out it was beyond him to keep the commandments. If there's anything I hate,'tis an apple!"
Everybody knows Moses. He and others like him, "carry the bag" in too many of our churches. But nobody seems to know him so well as Fanny; so we will let her relate his "experience," in her own words:
"Moses Miltiades Madison would fain have the world believe that the stumbling-block the fallen angels tripped over was no besetting sin ofhis.
"The very tails of his coat hung around him in a helpless kind of a way, as if they knew theyoughtto be suggestive of their owner'shumility. No sinful zephyrs presumed to dally with the straight locks, plastered with such puritanical precision over his diminutive head; his mouth had a sanctimonious drawing down at the corners, and his voice was a cross between a groan and a wail. At everyprayer-meeting and conventicle, Moses was on the ground, (simultaneously with the sexton,) made the most long-winded prayer; elaborated toseventh-LIE, the verse he was expounding, and kept one note ahead of the singing-choir in the 'doxology;' knew exactly how long it would be before the natives of the Palm Tree Islands would dress more fashionably than the wild beasts around them, and was entirely posted up about the last speech and confession of the very latest missionary whom the savages had made mince-meat of.
"Now Moses had an invalid wife; and his 'path of duty,' after evening meeting, generally laid in the direction of Widow Gray's house.Shewas 'afraid' andhe—wasn't! So he took the prayer-book, the Bible, and the widow, under his protection, and went the longest way round. His wife, to be sure, before his return, came to the conclusion that it was a 'protractedmeeting,' but thenMoseswas 'a burning and a shining light,' (at least so the 'church' said,) and ifMrs.Moses was of a different opinion, she kept it to herself. That he did occasionally pervert Scripture words and phrases, and make a very 'carnal' use of the same, when none of the congregation were present, was an indisputable fact; that the crickets, and chairs and tables, sometimes changed places in a hurry, wasanother; but the last was probably owing to his being a 'medium' for some 'spiritualrappings.'
"But if Mrs. Moses 'kept dark,' Jeremiah Jones wouldn't! He was as thorough and straight-forward in his religion as he was in building houses; he detested 'sham foundations,' as he professionally expressed it!
"One night, in an evil hour, Moses popped up, as usual, from his seat in meeting, intending to give an extra touch to his devotional exercises, as he contemplated taking a longer walk than usual with little Widow Gray. So he told 'the brethren,' (through his nose,) that 'if ever therewasa sinner that deserved averyuncomfortable place hereafter, it washim—(Moses!)—that it was a marvel to him that he was permitted to cumber the earth, that his sins were more than the hairs on his head,' (and, by the way, that was a very moderate computation!)
"So Jeremiah Jones seemed to think; for he 'riz' very demurely, and remarked that 'he had been brother Moses Madison's neighbor for many years, and was qualified to endorse that little statement of his, with regard to himself, assubstantially correct in every particular!' Moses fainted!"
In the sketch thus entitled, we are once more presented with a life picture, a veritable transcript of the writer's own mind. It will be seen that Fanny isau faitin the mysteries of coquetry; understands the use of long dresses, and "gaiter-boots" to perfection. Just listen:—
"'Well, Fan; any room formehere?' said Tom Grey, as he seated himself in a large arm-chair in his sister's boudoir.
"'Possession is nine points of the law, Tom; it's no use answering in the negativenow.'
"'I'm in a very distracted state of mind, sis, and I've come to make a clean breast of it to you.'
"'Mercy on us! if you are going to confess yoursins, I shall beat a retreat; the catalogue is longer than my patience.'
"'Listen; you know yesterday was one of my days for walking?'
"'Boisterous wind, hey?'
"'Yes; and a manmustuse his eyes when the gods favor him. Just before me, in Washington-street, I sawsucha pair of feet! Now you know pretty feet are my passion, and 'Cinderella's' were not a circumstance to these. So I travelled on behind them, in a state of mute ecstacy, and they might have led me to the Dead Sea, and I shouldn't have stopped to ask any questions!'
"'Did you see her face?'
"'Face?—I didn't think of such a thing.Ishouldn't have cared if she hadn't any face. Of course it was pretty; nature wouldn't have perfected those continuations to that degree and left—but no matter, they were 'thegreatest' feet forlittle feet, I ever saw. All of a sudden my goddess vanished into a shoe-store, and I stood gaping in at the window and wishing I was the clerk. Presently, the young man handed her a pair of boots, and going round the counter, down he goes on one knee, and, by the blessed saints! ifhe didn't take that dear little foot in his lap and try on those boots! The rascal was twice as long about it as he needbe, too, for after it was all laced on, he kept 'smoothing out the wrinkles,' ashesaid, 'on the instep.' St. Crispin!wasn'tI furious!'
"'Well—didn't you see her face, all this time?'
"'No, I tell you; she had one of those curs—I beg pardon—curiousveils that you women are so fond of playingbeau peepwith! But her shawl fell off, and you'd better believe there was a figure under it eventhose feetmight be proud to carry.'
"'Well—let's have the denouement.'
"'She got into an omnibus—didn't I wish I was the mat in the bottom of it? No room for another soul, outside or in, or I should have followed her. Wish I might wake up and find myselfmarried to those feet, some morning!'
"'Fan—these long skirts are very effective weapons in the hands of a pretty woman. They are provocative of curiosity. Now Bloomers—ugh! (a man is disenchanted at once;) but a nice, plump, little, cunning foot, creeping in and out,mice-like, from under those graceful folds—depend upon it, no woman who knows anything, will ever shorten her skirts. A coquette does as much execution with them as a Spanish dame with her fan and mantilla.'
"'Many a woman, when she thinks it worth her while, 'gets up' an imaginary quagmire, and,presto!there'sa pair of feet for you! and then down goes the long skirt again, and a man's senses with it. Jupiter!don'tthey understand it?'
"'Tom, if you was worth the trouble, I'd box your ears! Look out the window there, Isupposethat's a man; acane and a coat-tail walking behind a moustache! Well, here's the thermometer up to boiling point, and his coat is buttoned up tight to his jugular,to show his chestto the best possible advantage. I don't believe if he was stifling, he'd let his throat out of prison. Oh,vanity!thy name isman! I sat here at the window, laughing till I had fits, to see that fellowprink, the other morning, and make himself beautiful. Theattitudes, he practised! the different styles ofhairhe 'gotup,' and brusheddown!the neck-ties he tried on! the way hisbosom-pinwouldn'tlocateto his satisfaction! were all excruciating to my risibles.'
"'Well, Fan, you've no mercy, so I might as well say—I suppose, as to the comparative vanity of men and women,—it's six of one and half-a-dozen of the other; but to change the subject. Do you know I was thinking, to-day, thatdentistrymight be made a very fascinating occupation if one could but choose one's customers?'
"'As how?' said Fan.
"'WhyIshould proceed afterthisfashion.When a pretty woman came to me, I should plant her down in the crucifying chair; open sundry mysterious-looking drawers, spread out a formidable array of instruments under her little nose, take up all the files, and saws, and scrapers, one by one, and hold them up to the light to see if they were ready primed. Then I'd step round behind her chair (getting napkin, basin, and footstool fixed to my satisfaction.) The effect I calculated on being produced, the little blue-eyed victim would turn pale and look deliciously imploring into my face—then I'd use a little 'moral suasion,' as the ministers say—and quiet her nerves. Then follows an examination of her mouth, (I should make a long job of that!) Very likely the light would not be right, and I should have to move her head a little nearer to my shoulder, then it is more than probable her long curls would get twisted round the buttons of my coat;there'dbe a web for two to unweave! Then we'd commenceagain; the file in my hand makes an unlucky move against some sensitive tooth,—by that time it is to be hoped she'd be ready to faint, and need something held to her lips! Oh, Fan, my mind is in a state of vibration betweendentistryand theshoe business!'
"'What do you think of theclericalprofession?'said Fan, laughing. 'Thatwould give you an opportunity to ask them plump, without any circumlocution orcircumbendibus, the state of their hearts? You'd be of the Methodist persuasion, of course, and patronize 'Love Feasts.'
"'Not a bit of it. If I went intothatline of business, I'd be a Roman Catholic priest, and get up a confession box, and the first exercise of my authority after that would be to getyouinto a nunnerysomewhere. I never saw a 'Fanny' yet that wasn't as mischievous as Satan.'
"'Thenameis infectious, my dear; can't you get itchangedfor me? Speaking of that, Tom, you know that 'miserable young man' that talked so freely of 'prussic acid and daggers' once on a time? May I die an old maid if he isn't the owner of a pretty little wife and two or three children—he is as fat as a porpoise, merry as a cricket, gay as a lark—don't he sing out to me 'how d'ye do Fan?' in the mostheart-wholefashion, as if he never said anythingmorethan that to me all the days of his life! Oh, Tom!men have died—andworms have eaten 'em—but—not for love!'
"'Dowomenever die for love?'
"'Heaven forbid! Ididsee a man the other day, though, oh Tom!!—never mind; he's gone—with your 'little feet;' vanished into that grave ofour mutual hopes—an omnibus! my heart went with him—sucha figure as he had! Saints and angels! wouldn't I like to see him again? I've had an overpowering sensation ofgonenessever since! and speaking ofgoneness, won't youwalk out, before you light that horrid cigar.'"