The black sheep of a family is to be pitied rather than hated. He is
the wronged, as well as the wrong-doer. Many years ago such an one came
frequently under my observation. The family consisted of five boys
and three girls, all but the one in question remarkably good-looking,
gentle-hearted, fairly intelligent, thoroughly temperate, and honest.
The third, in order, of the boys, was a coarse, brutal, unprincipled
fellow, the dread and despair of his timid mother, whose money, and
even clothing, he would steal (the latter to pawn), and whose life
he would constantly threaten when a mere lad. He was at home only in
a groggery, and that not so much on account of a love of liquor, as
from his need of companions on his own plane. He was more than once
in prison; oftener escaped through the prayers and management of his
mother. Who, now, was responsible for this dangerous member of society?
The father was an amiable, inefficient, illiterate, temperate man; a
waster of other people’s time; an interminable talker of nothings. The
mother, an amiable, industrious, capable woman, who patched and knitted
and made a few dollars by nursing, at the call of the village doctor--a
most tender and devoted mother, a too generous neighbor. Passing
the unfinished habitation one day, I stopped to admire the double
hollyhocks and breathe the perfume from the beds of herbs. At the same
moment I heard a loud cry for help, and the old lady came hurriedly
round the corner of the house, followed by her son, with a hoe in his
hand upraised to strike her. Seeing me, he flung the hoe aside and
walked sullenly out of the gate. Sitting on the doorstep wiping her
tears away with the corner of her apron, the unhappy woman apologized
for her evil son in this wise:
“We were always poor, living from hand to mouth. My husband never
had any faculty for making a living. I strove and strove to keep my
children from want, and keep them looking decent. There were now six
of them, and I was nearly distracted when I found I was going to have
another. At this point, late in the fall, my husband went off and
stayed four months with a well-to-do uncle of his, leaving me and the
six children without food or fire-wood. I had endured all patiently
till then, but this made me full of bitterness and anger. I was just
raving--quite beside myself all the time. A neighbor helped me, and
trusted me a little, so that we kept from starving; but this did not
prevent me from feeling indignation, almost _hatred_, toward a father
who could be so unfatherly. Thomas showed the same disposition from a
child.”
“MY CONSOLATION.”
Here is a counterpart to the preceding narrative.
We had gone to visit an invalid friend who himself had climbed these
mountain heights to escape the fogs below on the sea-shore. Here,
cosily sheltered by the summit, surrounded by peach and cherry-trees,
and looking down on wooded heights and gorges, we found a most
excellent hotel. The host, a mild, intelligent man, was himself quite
delicate; his wife, on the contrary, was one of those rarely met with,
magnetic, generous-natured women, whose coming affects one like the
ocean breezes. She had, so she told us, nine children living and one
dead. Only such a brave, bounteous creature could have been equal to
this, and never in one instance bring reproach on her motherhood. It is
of the tenth I would speak, now a lad of sixteen, observing whom the
invalid remarked: “I shall get well just looking at that boy. What a
manly, affectionate fellow!”
“I call him my consolation,” said his mother. “He can do _anything_,
and he does it so easily, so quietly.” And, indeed, the way in which
this refined lad handed you your plate, your glass of milk, or cup
of coffee, gave a dignity to the meal, while conferring honor on all
parties concerned. The phrase “menial labor” had no significance when
he was basting the meat or ironing the “belated” table-cloths for his
mother.
Usually, when a woman in very straitened circumstances has an extremely
large family, she presently becomes oppressed and discouraged. Her
ambition is foiled. She can neither clothe, educate, nor train the
children properly, and the latest comers are apt to have a poorer
make-up--a fag-end sort of air. Here, on the contrary, was the flower
of the flock, a youth full of _faculty_, at home on the piano-forte
stool as at the knife-board, _determined to sustain his mother_ at all
hazards.
I sought eagerly the explanation of this phenomenon, and the happy
mother in full, varied, and affectionate tones, gladly replied to my
inquiries.
“When I found myself pregnant with my tenth child, the nine were
living and all at home. My husband’s salary--he was a preacher--was
between three and four hundred dollars a year. Fortunately, we owned
the little place on which we lived, and yet, if you will recall those
Eastern winters, you will realize the great difficulty I had in keeping
us all clothed as well as fed. It seemed to me not a virtue, but a
sin, to bring more children into the world, and I made up my mind that
_this_ should be the _very last_. I would take matters into my own
hands.
“But the thing now to be thought of was a little clothing for the
expected baby. I had not a rag to make over, not a dollar for the
purpose.
“At this juncture a gentleman, an agent for some religious publication
house, called, and as the custom was, I asked him to spend the day,
which he did, and I had considerable talk with him. He left, and
returned while I was preparing supper, and seemed greatly surprised to
find that I had no help. ‘What! _nine_ children to cook and sew for,
and no help!’ He had never supposed such a thing possible. I explained
that I had a _primitive_ constitution, but still I found myself giving
way lately. Whenever I had a trifle ready to pay out, which was very
seldom, I employed, it was true, a woman poorer than myself, but less
burdened, to do the washing. His astonishment, however, continued.
“A week or two after this visit, I received a letter from a distant
city, saying that my case had made a profound impression on him, and
that having met with a coterie of ladies belonging to a certain
congregation who were anxious to assist some missionary, or help in
some other good cause, he had mentioned me and my circumstances, and
they were of one mind, eager to help me, and wished to know if I would
accept a present in the spirit in which it was offered; and if so,
would I indicate what things would be most useful to me.
“I was glad, and willing to accept anything, and in replying mentioned
infants’ wear and children’s clothes as most needed.
“In return came a large box with every sort of child’s garments, a roll
of flannel, and a complete infant’s wardrobe of the nicest material and
most beautifully made--embroidered flannel, dresses prettily tucked and
edged--things lovely to look at.
“An immense load was taken off my mind. I was actually filled with
delight whenever I thought of these delicate, pretty things, and
how comfortable my baby would be. I went about my tasks after this
in a spirit of love and thanksgiving. You see Paul! He has been my
consolation since his babyhood. No temptation could make him less
positively good, less conscientious, or less affectionate than he is.”
As this large-hearted woman related to me these interesting facts, I
could not help wishing that the kind ladies who had been instrumental
in bringing about so happy a result, as well as the gentleman who had
given the impetus to their benevolence, could know how valuable had
been the effects.