of whisperers, and reputations are torn to tatters, and evil
suspicions are aroused, and scandals started, and the parliament of
the family is blown to atoms by some Guy Fawkes who was not caught in
time, as was his English predecessor of gunpowdery reputation.
The reason is that while in private homes families have so much to
keep them busy, in these promiscuous and multitudinous residences
there are so many who have nothing to do, and that always makes
mischief. They gather in each other's rooms and spend hours in
consultation about others. If they had to walk a half mile before they
got to the willing ear of some listener to detraction they would get
out of breath before reaching there, and not feel in full glow of
animosity or slander, or might, because of the distance, not go at
all. But rooms 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 and 25 are on the same corridor, and
when one carrion crow goes "Caw! Caw!" all the other crows hear it and
flock together over the same carcass. "Oh, I have heard something
rich! Sit down and let me tell you all about it." And the first guffaw
increases the gathering, and it has to be told all over again, and as
they separate each carries a spark from the altar of Gab to some other
circle, until from the coal-heaver in the cellar to the maid in the
top room of the garret all are aware of the defamation, and that
evening all who leave the house will bear it to other houses, until
autumnal fires sweeping across Illinois prairies are less raging and
swift than that flame of consuming reputation blazing across the
village or city.
Those of us who were brought up in the country know that the
old-fashioned hatching of eggs in the hay-mow required four or five
weeks of brooding, but there are new modes of hatching by machinery,
which take less time and do the work in wholesale. So, while the
private home may brood into life an occasional falsity, and take a
long time to do it, many of the boarding-houses and family hotels
afford a swifter and more multitudinous style of moral incubation, and
one old gossip will get off the nest after one hour's brooding,
clucking a flock of thirty lies after her, each one picking up its
little worm of juicy regalement. It is no advantage to hear too much
about your neighbors, for your time will be so much occupied in taking
care of their faults that you will have no time to look after your
own. And while you are pulling the chickweed out of their garden yours
will get all overgrown with horse-sorrel and mullen stalks.