University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
REFORMS.

It is a wise decree, that all who spend their
early years in fashionable dissipation should
suffer a just retribution for such conduct. This
never fails to be perceived when a woman becomes
mistress of a family; the ennui and lassitude
which follow in the train of such a
course cannot be overcome, unless the responsibilities
of the office awaken a new energy,
and give a fresh impulse to the character.

We have already seen the ruinous effects of
this fashionable mania. The folly of intrusting
to others the duties which a wise Providence
designed as a wholesome discipline to
ourselves, the slavery it engenders, the weakness
it fosters, and the debasing influence it
exerts upon the immortal mind, which can only
strengthen itself by vigorous exertion.

But, it may be asked, cannot we retrieve
such a character from this thraldom, if we
arouse it to see the waste of its powers? I

would fain speak in the tone of encouragement,
for we have noble instances of such
emancipation. Still, I would caution mothers
not to trust to this uncertain result; for, although
a person, fortified by strong principles,
may redeem much of the evil of the past, yet
what can efface the consciousness that the best
period of life has been misused? Tears will
not wear away the impression, regrets cannot
justify such a course.

We shall see how it operated in the instance
of Mrs. Harley.

Aunt Ruth, as we before intimated, was to
take charge of the family while she remained,
and, if possible, bring about a better order in
its affairs. She rose early the next morning,
as was her uniform custom, and finding no one
stirring in the house, rapped upon Dinah's
door, and inquired “if she had overslept herself.”

“Oh no, ma'am,” was the answer; “but Mrs.
Harley bade me not be over-particular in getting
up too soon, and that dog of a Jethro kept
me so late last night, that I thought I would
lie a little longer.” However, she roused herself
at Aunt Ruth's mild request, and called

Dorcas, who, not approving of this innovation,
rose sullen and ill-natured.

Aunt Ruth proceeded to the kitchen, and
thought she would watch Dinah's progress in
preparing breakfast without attempting any
dictation. She could not but observe gross
defects everywhere. The bread had not risen,
Dinah having confessed that she forgot the
yeast; the water did not boil when she poured
it on the coffee, and the whole appearance of
the kitchen and all the cooking utensils was
dirty in the extreme. The coal was burning
dimly in the range, and Aunt Ruth did not
wonder that her nephew wished some new
management. She cast a glance into the closet,
and there were piles of washed and unwashed
dishes, with fragments of bread, meat, and potatoes
rolling off the plates; wrecks of crockery,
which indicated that there had once been
a large supply of useful things; while dust, dirt,
empty boxes, and dull tinware made up the
remainder. She opened but one stone jar: it
was filled with mouldy crusts, which apparently
were put there long before Dinah came.
She went to the cold and cheerless parlour,
where Dorcas was bedimming, not brightening,

an Olmstead stove: as a proof of her neatness,
she was rubbing it with her clean checked
apron. Having done this, and made a sort
of an apology for a fire, she proceeded to lay
the table for breakfast. This she did by putting
on the cloth askew, dusting the waiter
with the same apron she had used before, and
putting on one thing at a time; all of which
Aunt Ruth observed without comment, as she
wished to be a spectator, so as to know better
where to apply the reforming principle.

Mr. Harley rose in season for breakfast, and
so did little John: Mrs. Harley, not having recovered
from the fatigues of the party, begged
to be indulged in a morning nap. The reader
can imagine the flavour of such a breakfast;
yet, as it was a fair specimen of Dinah's management,
Mr. Harley offered no excuse to his
aunt. They resumed the conversation of the
past evening, and it being obvious to his kind
aunt that a sweeping reformation was needed—
that Dinah would not do for a cook, nor Jethro
for a footman, nor Dorcas for an errand girl,
unless she could be very much improved—she
agreed, with Mr. Harley's consent, to commence
her operations that very day. This

she did with full confidence in her own powers,
yet with a kind of shrinking delicacy, as
she knew her path must be rather complicated
before a perfect system could succeed. Mr.
Harley lent his aid and dismissed Jethro, which
not pleasing Dinah, made her very refractory
under her new mistress; and Aunt Ruth, finding
“soft answers” sometimes failed in turning
away wrath, told her that, as the care devolved
now upon her to superintend, she would
dispense with her services that afternoon. It
was her maxim that “poor help was generally
worse than none;” and as the introduction of a
new mistress is often the cause of the removal
of the domestics, the change was not to be
wondered at.

We will now take a survey of the new arrangements
one week after Aunt Ruth had
been busily employed in putting things to
rights. She did not require Mrs. Harley to
give her any assistance in the kitchen until she
had revolutionized the whole face of affairs,
or, in her language, “had seen that the house
was thoroughly clean from the garret to the
cellar.” This she did most faithfully, with the
aid of a woman who was hired daily, to do

whatever she was bade. While this process
was going on, the reader will anticipate the
greatest tumult; but it was not so: Aunt Ruth
quietly took room by room, and thus showed
her good management, instead of putting the
whole house in an uproar at once. She then
requested her nephew and his wife to go with
her over the house, and see if everything was
arranged as they wished. It is needless to add
that no fault could be found.

A change was also manifested in the culinary
department. Mr. Harley could not comprehend
why he was not every day obliged to
go to market, while he saw, with astonishment,
that his food was far more palatable and wholesome
than it ever had been before, even in the
luxurious days when Mrs. Hopkins was housekeeper.
Mrs. Harley did not think the cooking
was so rich, but acknowledged that it
tasted better.

One day, after partaking a finely-cooked
dinner, Mr. Harley said to his wife, “I hope,
my dear, you do not fail to take daily lessons
while Aunt Ruth is with us. You must remember,
we cannot hope to retain her a great

while, and it is incumbent on you to improve
this present opportunity.”

“Oh!” carelessly replied Mrs. Harley, “we
are to have a girl she has had under her training
when she leaves; aunt has kindly promised
to give her up, and says she knows the
girl will be glad to come.”

“I said, my dear,” replied Aunt Ruth, “if
you would first learn to direct her, I thought
she would make you an excellent servant; but
you have not been in the kitchen with me yet:
when shall I see you begin to learn?”

“Not this week,” exclaimed Mrs. Harley,
“for you know I am expecting many ladies
to call: those who refused, as well as those
who accepted my invitations, will be here this
week, and I must be dressed to see them.”

“Not early in the morning, Mary,” said
Mr. Harley. “You can go down a little while
every day, and yet be dressed seasonably.”

“La! Mr. Harley, Aunt Ruth can leave me
a few written receipts when she goes, and,
with the aid of those and a good cook, I can
direct that good girl as well as if I knew how
myself. There is no need of my remembering,
or trying to remember, all the approved methods

of doing this thing or that: it would take
me a lifetime.”

Thus reasoned the flighty wife: so little interested
was she in the pleasant effects of good
housekeeping. Yet, nevertheless, in compliance
with her husband's wishes, she did proceed,
by slow and imperceptible degrees, to
feel a little interest in Aunt Ruth's proceedings
before the week was completed. She
promised Mr. Harley to give it more attention
after the calls were finished.