Part 2 — HINTS ON HOUSEKEEPING

BY A GRANDMOTHER.

To one who has long been accustomed to a retired and solitary life, an occasional glimpse of the busy world and its ways, a peep "through the loopholes of the retreat," has a relish and an interest scarcely to be appreciated by the actual participants in the turmoil and bustle of those scenes.

In the quiet routine of rural life, undisturbed by great excitements, and to a great measure removed from the influences of stirring events, it is almost impossible to keep pace with the changes that are constantly taking place in the great outer world. I think this must be more especially true of our American society than of any other nation. We are such a restless race, so impatient of monotony, so eager for excitement and variety, that what is most in vogue to-day is forgotten to-morrow, and the most earnest pursuits of the present are liable to be rapidly superseded by others of a widely different nature.

After an absence of only a few months from the social circle with which it is my delight occasionally to mingle, I often find myself much in the predicament of poor Rip Van Winkle, after his long repose in "Sleepy Hollow," and dare not, upon my reappearance, open my lips until I have listened long enough to catch the key-note, as it were, of the topics at present engaging attention, lest my remarks and inquiries may appear as ill-timed and excite as much surprise as did those of that redoubtable victim of vagrancy and the broomstick.

Among all the changes that have come over our American world, since we who are now grandmothers could call ourselves young, there are none more utterly astounding—perhaps because, having long claimed our careful attention, they are more familiar and interesting to us—than those embraced in the household and home economy. Now, although I am not disposed to undervalue the improvements of modern times, or to decry the advance of modern ideas in other departments, I am wholly unwilling to yield the palm to modern housekeeping. In spite of every advantage furnished by the superior appliances of these days, and every facility offered by the inventive genius of our people in labor-saving machinery adapted to each department of domestic life, I insist that our housekeepers are inferior in all the qualities that contribute to the comfort of home to their mothers, and that their mothers were less efficient than their grandmothers. There has been a gradual but steady decline in the art of housekeeping, and a more rapid but equally constant increase in the expense thereof. Indeed, this last item looms up in dimensions and glares upon us with an aspect nothing less than appalling to dames like myself, who cherish antiquated notions on these subjects.

"Henry, why in the world do you not marry?" I said the other day to a highly-esteemed young friend, whom I had known from his childhood, and who is richly endowed, as I well know, with every quality necessary to make a home happy. "Why in the world do you not marry? It is a positive wrong to society, that so much domestic virtue as you possess should remain unappropriated. You are now well established in business, with every prospect of success, and you really ought to be thinking of making a home for yourself."

"I wish I dare indulge such an aspiration," he replied with something very like a regretful sigh; "but, to tell you the truth, such a step as taking a wife to myself under my present circumstances would be ruinous. My business is indeed, as you say, well established, and—within certain, not very extensive, limits—prosperous. By close attention and strict fidelity to its interests, diligent industry, and careful economy, I realize annually a very comfortable income; not large, but, under these conditions, quite sure; as years advance, this will probably increase slowly and surely. Now, if I were to marry, just imagine what a load of expense would be incurred at once! You know as well as I the manner of life I should be required to adopt, by any young lady of the class among whom I should look for a wife; and I really am not in a position to incur such a burden now, nor can I hope to be for a long time to come."

This was said in a tone of despondency and deep feeling, and I could not but sympathize with my young friend, compelled thus reluctantly to suppress the dearest aspirations of youth; nor could I avoid deploring the exigencies that constrain the greater portion of worthy young men in our country, to relinquish the hope of a happy home of their own, which would be their strongest stimulant to exertion and their best shield against temptation.

It is long since I have been in the habit of witnessing the gambols of the gay world; but I happened not long since to peep in upon a sort of fandango at the house of one of my friends, and, bless my heart, what costumes! My surprise would beggar description. I happened to be standing near the mistress of the house, and remarked to her that I was not aware this was to be a fancy party.

"And it is not," she replied.

"But you do not mean to tell me," I exclaimed in dismay, "that these are the ordinary costumes for full dress at parties?"

"Of course they are. Why not?" she very innocently answered.

I ventured no further remark or inquiry, but retired with my own quiet cogitations into a silent corner. Presently a sprightly young lady of whom I am very fond, and who is foolish enough to cherish a great fancy for me, came tripping up to my retreat, her face all shining with gayety and goodness. "Tell me, my dear," said I, "why you young ladies wear your pockets outside your dress, and in such an inconvenient place, and why you wear your skirts pinned up at a party, just as we used to wear them when about our housework?"

"Oh! those are not our pockets; they are paniers; and it is the present style to loop up the skirts this way."

"But, my child, can you tell me how many superfluous yards of silk are required to make skirts in this way, and to furnish these festoons?"

"We do not count by yards," said she, laughing; "but this is not an expensive dress. It cost only eighty dollars, the making and all!" And she glided away to join her young companions. So much for the philosophy of a young girl in a simple country village!

"No wonder," thought I, "that Harry does not dare to marry!"

Now here was this dear girl—lovely, accomplished, beautiful, intelligent, and fascinating—a perfect charm in society, after her fashion; but a wife? Why a man might as well marry a butterfly!

There is certainly something sadly "out of joint" in the times. The jarring and jolting of domestic machinery betrays loose screws, if not more fatal defects, somewhere in its construction. The subject is attracting general attention, eliciting general complaint, and calling forth the best energies of many minds in its discussion. Much talent has been engaged in the consideration of evils and defects, which it is asserted pervade every branch of domestic economy and every part of society. Remedial measures which have recently been proposed are also attracting much notice.

Not long ago a learned judge, lamenting the modern defects in female education, concluded with the consoling remark, "Yes, our girls are badly educated; but our boys will never find it out!"

Ah my learned friend! you see our young Henrys, though they may not detect the cause, are fully alive to the consequences.

What are these defects, what their remedy, and what the proper

WORK FOR WOMEN.

Now, it seems to me that every mother who is blessed with a daughter should begin with the first dawn of reason to instil into that daughter's mind the consciousness that she has something to do—that there is work awaiting every step of her advancing progress from childhood to youth, from youth to womanhood, and from womanhood to old age.

The patronage of boarding-houses, which are entirely antagonistic to the first idea of a home, should be discarded. The daughter should be required to participate daily with her mother in household cares and duties, even while pursuing her studies.

Herein lies the difference between "modern ideas" and the antique régime. Here is the fault of the "century," so deplorable in its results, so widely lamented; and here—by the most culpable neglect to rear our daughters in a manner to fit them for the high responsibilities and duties of home—has the equilibrium between the "producer and consumer," so much talked of, been lost.

Education, like charity, should begin, be carried on, and be perfected at home, or it can be nothing elsewhere. The duties of women as "producers," in modern times, are identical with those of their grandmothers; and it is only in the family, within the dear and sheltered nook of home, that they can find profitable and legitimate exercise.

Under the ancient system—and it certainly could show as noble results as the modern mode has been able to achieve—the wife was the queen of a little kingdom, and her highest ambition was to rule within its sacred precincts wisely and well. If the resources and revenues were scanty, her study was so to manage the expenditures as to leave a margin on the credit side for future emergencies, or for increase of capital. If God gave her children, she accepted the inestimable boon with heartfelt thanksgivings, took up the holy office with all its tender cares and duties, as the crown of her glory, and presided with matronly dignity over the best and highest interests of the young immortals committed to her keeping, training her little ones diligently "in the way in which they should walk." She welcomed gracefully whatever adjuncts were furnished by schools and books, but never dreamed of abating her maternal vigilance, or trusting to these as substitutes for home culture. Her children were daily questioned, their proficiencies praised, their deficiencies or indolence in their studies reproved. Consequently she did not fall into that other dream, too common in these days, of going out from home to find something to do, because schools and systems had taken her children off her hands, and removed them beyond the scope of her jurisdiction.

Schools did not release her from the duty of watching over the development of their intellects. Sewing-machines did not stitch their garments; trained servants in every department were not at hand to perform the housework indifferently well. Verily, between one interest and another, our grandmothers had work enough to do!

WAS IT PROFITABLE?

We think any young wife and mother who will ask this question with sincerity and thoughtfulness, arousing the energies of her mind to the importance of considering it well and arriving at a true conclusion, will give an affirmative reply. There is no sphere in which a woman can be so profitable a "producer" as at home, and that simply by practising the old-fashioned virtues of "looking well to the ways of her household, and eating not the bread of idleness." By regulating carefully the consumption, she becomes the most efficient and lucrative "producer."

When every woman will accept this truth in its widest sense, and act accordingly, then, and not before, will the balance-sheet between "producers and consumers" be adjusted. Then will the toiling husband be matched by the industrious and frugal wife. Then will he return after the toils of the day, not to a palace glittering in cold splendor, and rivalling in the chilly magnificence of gew-gaws and trinkets a jeweller's show-window, but to a cozy and cheerful home, where "books that are books" abound, where the smile of an intelligent companion greets his return, and a sympathizing friend is ever ready to enter into all his cares and perplexities, to assist with wise counsels, and encourage with brave words.

It is certain that there is great need of a thorough change in the domestic discipline of the homes in our country, if a tithe of what is predicated as to existing evils be true. If our young women have really, as a general rule, become so frivolous in their characters, so fond of their ease, and so expensive in their habits, that our prudent young men dare not assume the burden of a family, or, in doing so, can have no assurance that they are providing for themselves the comforts and the blessings which should be embraced in the sacred inclosure of home, the consequences to society must be utterly ruinous. The family is the foundation of society, and only in well-ordered and happy homes can its well-being and stability be established and sustained.

NIL DESPERANDUM.

Deplorable as are the pictures which are drawn, discouraging as are the statements we daily hear of domestic confusion and misery, it is not to be admitted or believed that our American women are so swallowed up in a vortex of fashion and folly, or so enfeebled by habits of indolence, that they cannot be awakened from their fatal dream.

There is really in our national character too much intelligence, though it may be slumbering; too much energy, though it may be dormant through apathy, to permit us to sink hopelessly and helplessly into social chaos. It is only necessary to awaken the public mind to the importance of the subject, and to arouse American women to united and persevering efforts to retrieve the past, and bring about a better state of affairs in the future, and the work of reform is on the sure road to accomplishment. This is the only "coöperative" agency from which we may hope for beneficial results. No new plans or patent machinery will enable the wife, the mother, the housekeeper, to shirk her duty or transfer the irksome task to other shoulders. She must simply "seek out the old paths, and walk therein," humbly, diligently, at whatever sacrifice of her own ease or endurance of painful trials, which must always be the heritage of the true woman, but which, met and endured in the true womanly spirit, are richer than earthly treasures, and will secure rewards more unfailing than earthly glories.

In no other way can this painful domestic problem ever find a fitting solution.