Will make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Science has forestalled them. The “wake-up” is a combination of hard
wood, hinges, springs, and clock-work, against sleeping late o’
mornings. It is a bedstead with all the beautiful vitality of a
flower—it opens with the dawn. If, for instance, you set the hand
against six o’clock in the morning, at six the clock at the bed’s head
solemnly strikes a demi-twelve on its sonorous bell. If you pay no
attention to the monitor, or idly, dreamily endeavour to compass the
coherent sequence of sounds, the invention, within the succeeding two
minutes, drops its tail-board and lets down your feet upon the floor.
While you are pleasantly defeating this attempt upon your privacy by
drawing up your legs within the precincts of the blankets, the virtuous
head-board and the rest of the bed suddenly rise up in protest; and the
next moment, if you do not instantly abdicate, you are launched upon the
floor by a blind elbow that connects with the crank of an eccentric,
that is turned by a cord that is wound around a drum, that is moved by
an endless screw, that revolves within the body of the machinery. So
soon as you are turned out, of course, you waive the balance of the nap
and proceed to dress.
“Mrs. Sparrowgrass,” said I, contemplatively, after the grimy machinists
had departed, “this machine is one of the most remarkable evidences of
progress the ingenuity of man has yet developed. In this bedstead we see
a host of cardinal virtues made practical by science. To rise early one
must possess courage, prudence, self-denial, temperance, and fortitude.
The cultivation of these virtues, necessarily attended with a great deal
of trouble, may now be dispensed with, as this engine can entirely set
aside, and render useless, a vast amount of moral discipline. I have no
doubt in a short time we shall see the finest attributes of the human
mind superseded by machinery. Nay, more; I have very little doubt that,
as a preparatory step in this great progress, we shall have physical
monitors of cast-iron and wheel-work to regulate the ordinary routine of
duty in every family.”
Mrs. Sparrowgrass said she did not precisely understand what I meant.
“For instance,” said I, in continuation, “we dine every day; as a
general thing, I mean. Now sometimes we eat too much, and how easy, how
practicable it would be to regulate our appetites by a banquet-dial. The
subject, having had the superficial area of his skull and the cubic
capacity of his body worked out respectively by a licensed craniologist
and by a licensed corporalogist, gets from each a certificate, which
certificates are duly registered in the county clerk’s office. From the
county clerk he received a permit, marked, we will say, ten.”
“Not ten pounds, I hope,” said Mrs. S.
“No, my dear,” I replied, “ten would be the average of his capacity. We
will now suppose the chair, in which the subject is seated at dinner,
rests upon a pendulous platform, over a delicate arrangement of levers,
connected with an upright rod, that runs through the section of table in
front of his plate, and this rod, we will suppose, is toothed into a
ratchet-wheel, that moves the index of the banquet-dial. You will see at
once that, as he hangs balanced in this scale, any absorption of food
would be instantly indicated by the index. All then he is called upon to
do is to watch the dial until the hand points to ‘ten,’ and then stop
eating.”
“But,” said Mrs. Sparrowgrass, “suppose he shouldn’t be half through?”
“Oh!” said I, “that would not make any difference. When the dial says he
has had enough, he must quit.”
“But,” said Mrs. Sparrowgrass, “suppose he _would not_ stop eating?”
“Then,” said I, “the proper way to do would be to inform against him,
and have him brought immediately before a justice of the peace, and if
he did not at once swear that he had eaten within his limits, fine him,
and seize all the victuals on his premises.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. S., “you would have a law to regulate it, then?”
“Of course,” said I, “a statute—a statutory provision, or provisionary
act. Then, the principle once being established, you see how easily and
beautifully we could be regulated by the simplest motive powers. All the
obligations we now owe to society and to ourselves could be dispensed
with, or rather transferred to, or vested in, some superior machine, to
which we would be accountable by night and day. Nay, more than that,
instead of sending representatives to legislate for us, how easy it
would be to construct a legislature of bronze and wheel-work—an
incorruptible legislature. I would suggest a hydraulic or pneumatic
congress as being less liable to explode, and more easily graduated than
one propelled by steam simply. All that would be required of us then
would be to elect a state engineer annually, and he, with the assistance
of a few underlings, could manage the automata as he pleased.”
“I do not see,” replied Mrs. Sparrowgrass, “how that would be an
improvement upon the present method, from all I hear.”
This unexpected remark of Mrs. S. surprised me into silence for a
moment, but immediately recovering, I answered, that a hydraulic or
pneumatic legislature would at least have this advantage—it would
construct enactments for the State at, at least, one-fiftieth part of
the present expense, and at the same time do the work better and
quicker.
“Now, my dear,” said I, as I wound up the ponderous machinery with a
huge key, “as you are always an early riser, and as, of course, you will
be up before seven o’clock, I will set the indicator at that hour, so
that you will not be disturbed by the progress of science. It is getting
to be very cold, my dear, but how beautiful the stars are to-night. Look
at Orion and the Pleiades! Intensely lustrous in the frosty sky.”
The sensations one experiences in lying down upon a complication of
mechanical forces are somewhat peculiar if they are not entirely novel.
I once had the pleasure, for one week, of sleeping over the boiler of a
high-pressure Mississippi steamboat; and, as I knew in case of a blow up
I should be the first to hear of it, I composed my mind as well as I
could under the circumstances. But this reposing upon a bed of statics
and dynamics, with the constant chirping and crawling of wheel-work at
the bed’s head, with a thought now and then of the inexorable iron elbow
below, and an uncertainty as to whether the clock itself might not be
too fast, or too slow, caused me to be rather reflective and watchful
than composed and drowsy.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed the lucent stars in their blue depths, and the
midnight moon, now tipping the Palisades with a fringe of silver fire,
and was thinking how many centuries that lovely light had played upon
those rugged ridges of trap and basalt, and so finally sinking from the
reflective to the imaginative, and from the imaginative to the
indistinct, at last reached that happy state of half consciousness,
between half asleep and asleep, when the clock in the machine woke up,
and suddenly struck eight. Of course I knew it was later, but I could
not imagine why it should at all, as I presumed the only time of
striking was in the morning by way of signal. As Mrs. S. was sound
asleep, I concluded not to say anything to her about it; but I could not
help thinking what an annoyance it would be if the clock should keep on
striking the hours during the night. In a little while the bedclothes
seemed to droop at the foot of the bed, to which I did not pay much
attention, as I was just then engaged listening to the drum below, that
seemed to be steadily engaged in winding up its rope and preparing for
action. Then I felt the upper part of the patent bedstead rising up, and
then I concluded to jump out, just as the iron elbow began to utter a
cry like unto the cry of a steel Katydid, and did jump, but was
accidentally preceded by the mattress, one bolster, two pillows, ditto
blankets, a brace of threadbare linen sheets, one coverlid, the baby,
one cradle (overturned), and Mrs. Sparrowgrass. To gather up these
heterogeneous materials of comfort required some little time, and, in
the meanwhile, the bedstead subsided. When we retired again, and were
once more safely protected from the nipping cold, although pretty well
cooled, I could not help speaking of the perfect operation of the
bedstead in high terms of praise, although, by some accident, it had
fulfilled its object a little earlier than had been desirable. As I am
very fond of dilating upon a pleasant theme, the conversation was
prolonged until Mrs. Sparrowgrass got sleepy, and the clock struck nine.
Then we had to turn out again. We had to turn out every hour during the
long watches of the night for that wonderful epitome of the age of
progress.
When the morning came we were sleepy enough, and the next evening we
concluded to replace the “wake-up” with a common, old-fashioned
bedstead. To be sure I had made a small mistake the first night, in not
setting the “_indicator_” as well as the _index_ of the dial. But what
of that? Who wants his rest, that precious boon, subjected to
contingencies? When we go to sleep, and say our prayers, let us wake up
according to our natures, and according to our virtues; some require
more sleep, some less; we are not mere bits of mechanism after all; who
knows what world we may chance to wake up in? For my part, I have
determined not to be a humming-top, to be wound up and to run down, just
like that very interesting toy one of the young Sparrowgrassii has just
now left upon my table, minus a string.
_Frederick Swartout Cozzens._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_A QUILTING._
I MUST tell you, however, of a quilting which I did not share with Mr.
Sibthorpe, though I wished for him many times during the afternoon. It
was held at the house of a very tidy neighbour, a Mrs. Boardman, the
neatness of whose dwelling and its outworks I have often admired in
passing. She invited all the neighbours, and, of course, included my
unworthy self, although I had never had any other acquaintance than that
which may be supposed to result from John and Sophy’s having boarded
with her for some time. The walking being damp, an ox cart was sent
round for such of the guests as had no “team” of their own, which is our
case as yet. This equipage was packed with hay, over which was disposed,
by way of _musnud_, a blue and white coverlet; and by this arrangement
half-a-dozen goodly dames, including myself, found reclining room, and
were carried at a stately pace to Mrs. Boardman’s. Here we found a
collection of women busily occupied in preparing the quilt, which you
may be sure was a curiosity to me. They had stretched the lining on a
frame, and were now laying fleecy cotton on it with much care; and I
understood from several aside remarks, which were not intended for the
ear of our hostess, that a due regard for etiquette required that this
laying of the cotton should have been performed before the arrival of
the company, in order to give them a better chance for finishing the
quilt before tea, which is considered a point of honour.
[Illustration: “CARRIED AT A STATELY PACE.”]
However, with so many able hands at work, the preparations were soon
accomplished. The “bats” were smoothly disposed, and now consenting
hands on either side
Induced a splendid cover, green and blue,
Yellow and red,
wherein stars and garters, squares and triangles, figured in every
possible relation to each other, and produced, on the whole, a very
pretty mathematical piece of work, on which the eyes of Mrs. Boardman
rested with no small amount of womanly pride.
Now needles were in requisition, and every available space round the
frame was filled by a busy dame.
Several of the company, being left-handed, or rather, ambidextrous (no
unusual circumstance here), this peculiarity was made serviceable at the
corners, where common seamstresses could only sew in one direction,
while these favoured individuals could turn their double power to double
account. This beginning of the solid labour was a serious time. Scarcely
a word was spoken beyond an occasional request for the thread, or an
exclamation at the snapping of a needle. This last seemed of no
unfrequent occurrence, as you may well suppose, when you think of the
thickness of the materials, and the necessity for making at least
tolerably short stitches. I must own that the most I could accomplish
for the first hour was the breaking of needles, and the pricking of my
fingers in the vain attempt to do as I was bid, and take my stitches
“clear through.”
By-and-by it was announced that it was time to roll—and all was bustle
and anxiety. The frame had to be taken apart at the corners, and two of
the sides rolled several times with much care, and at this diminished
surface we began again with renewed spirit. Now all tongues seemed
loosened. The evidence of progress had raised everybody’s spirits, and
the strife seemed to be who should talk fastest without slackening the
industry of her fingers. Some held _tête-à-tête_ communications with a
crony in an undertone; others discussed matters of general interest more
openly; and some made observations at nobody in particular, but with a
view to the amusement of all. Mrs. Vining told the symptoms of each of
her five children through an attack of the measles; Mrs. Keteltas gave
her opinion as to the party most worthy of blame in a late separation in
the village; and Miss Polly Mittles said she hoped the quilt would not
be “scant of stitches, like a bachelor’s shirt.”
Tea-time came before the work was completed, and some of the more
generous declared they would rather finish it before tea. These offers
fell rather coldly, however, for a real tea-drinker does not feel very
good-humoured just before tea.
So Mr. Boardman drove four stout nails in the rafters overhead,
corresponding in distance with the corners of the quilt, and the frame
was raised and fastened to these, so as to be undisturbed, and yet out
of the way during the important ceremony that was to succeed.
Is it not well said that “Necessity is the mother of invention”?
A long table was now spread, eked out by boards laid upon carpenters’
“horses,” and this was covered with a variety of table-cloths, all
shining clean, however, and carefully disposed. The whole table array
was equally various, the contributions, I presume, of several
neighbouring log-houses. The feast spread upon it included every variety
that ever was put upon a tea-table; from cake and preserves to pickles
and raw cabbage cut up in vinegar.
Pies there were, and custards and sliced ham, and cheese, and three or
four kinds of bread. I could do little besides look, and try to guess
out the dishes. However, everything was very good, and our hostess must
have felt complimented by the attention paid to her various delicacies.
The cabbage, I think, was rather the favourite; vinegar being one of the
rarities of a settler’s cabin.
I was amused to see the loads of cake and pie that accumulated upon the
plates of the guests.
When all had finished, most of the plates seemed full. But I was told
afterwards that it was not considered civil to decline any one kind of
food, though your hostess may have provided a dozen. You are expected at
least to try each variety. But this leads to something which I cannot
think very agreeable.
After all had left the table, our hostess began to clear it away, that
the quilt might be restored to its place; and, as a preliminary, she
went all round to the different plates, selecting such pieces of cake as
were but little _bitten_, and paring off the half-demolished edges with
a knife, in order to replace them in their original circular position in
the dishes. When this was accomplished, she assiduously scraped from the
edges of the plates the scraps of butter that had escaped demolition,
and wiped them back on the remains of the pat. This was doubtless a
season of delectation to the economical soul of Mrs. Boardman; you may
imagine its effects upon the nerves of your friend. Such is the
influence of habit! The good woman doubtless thought she was performing
a praiseworthy action, and one in no wise at variance with her usual
neat habits; and if she could have peeped into my heart, and there have
read the resolutions I was tacitly making against breaking bread again
under the same auspices, she would have pitied or despised such a
lamentable degree of pride and extravagance. So goes this strange world.
The quilt was replaced, and several good housewives seated themselves at
it, determined to “see it out.” I was reluctantly compelled to excuse
myself, my inexperienced fingers being pricked to absolute rawness. But
I have since ascertained that the quilt was finished that evening, and
placed on Mrs. Boardman’s best bed immediately; where indeed I see it
every time I pass the door, as it is not our custom to keep our handsome
things in the background. There were some long stitches in it, I know,
but they do not show as far as the road; so the quilt is a very great
treasure, and will probably be kept as an heirloom.
I have some thoughts of an attempt in the “patchwork” line myself. One
of the company at Mrs. Boardman’s remarked that the skirt of the French
cambric dress I wore would make a “splendid” quilt. It is a temptation,
certainly.
_Sam Slick._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_A PATENTED CHILD._
[Illustration]
THE town of Sussex, Pennsylvania, has lately been profoundly stirred by
an extraordinary and romantic lawsuit. The case was an entirely novel
one, and no precedent bearing upon it is to be found in the common or
statute law. While it is necessarily a matter of great interest to the
legal profession, its romantic side cannot fail to attract the attention
of persons of all ages and every kind of sex. In fact, it is destined to
be one of the most celebrated cases in the annals of American
jurisprudence.
Some time last winter a lady whom we will call Mrs. Smith, who kept a
boarding-house in Sussex, took her little girl, aged four, with her to
make a call on Mrs. Brown, her near neighbour. Mrs. Brown was busy in
the kitchen, where she received her visitor with her usual cordiality.
There was a large fire blazing in the stove, and while the ladies were
excitedly discussing the new bonnet of the local Methodist minister’s
wife, the little girl incautiously sat down on the stove hearth. She was
instantly convinced that the hearth was exceedingly hot, and on loudly
bewailing the fact, was rescued by her mother and carried home for
medical treatment. A few days later Mrs. Smith burst in great excitement
into the room of a young law student, who was one of her boarders, and
with tears and lamentations disclosed to him the fact that her child was
indelibly branded with the legend, “Patented, 1872.” These words in
raised letters had happened to occupy just that part of the stove-hearth
on which the child had seated herself, and being heated nearly to red
heat they had reproduced themselves on the surface of the unfortunate
child.
The law student entered into the mother’s sorrow with much sympathy, but
after he had in some degree calmed her mind he informed her that a
breach of law had been committed. “Your child,” he remarked, “has never
been patented, but she is marked ‘Patented, 1872.’ This is an
infringement of the statute. You falsely represent by that brand that a
child for whom no patent was issued is patented. This false
representation is forgery, and subjects you to penalty made and provided
for that crime.”
Mrs. Smith was, as may be supposed, greatly alarmed at learning this
statement, and her first impulse was to beg the young man to save her
from a convict’s cell. With a gravity suited to the occasion, he
explained the whole law of patents. He told her that had she desired to
patent the child, she should have either constructed a model of it or
prepared accurate drawings, with specifications showing distinctly what
parts of the child she claimed to have invented. This model or these
drawings she should have forwarded to the Patent Office, and she would
then have received in due time a patent—provided, of course, the child
was really patentable—and would have been authorised to label it
“Patented.” “Unfortunately,” he pursued, “it is now too late to take
this course, and we must boldly claim that a patent was issued, but that
the record was destroyed during the recent fire in the Patent Office.”
This suggestion cheered the spirits of Mrs. Smith, but they were again
dashed by the further remarks of the young man. He reminded her that the
child might find it very inconvenient to be patented. “If we claim,” he
went on to say, “that she has been regularly patented, it follows that
the ownership of the patent, including the child herself, belongs to
you, and will pass at your death into the possession of your heirs.
Holding the patent, they can prevent any husband taking possession of
the girl by marriage, and they can sell, assign, transfer, and set over
the patent right and the accompanying girl to any purchaser. If she is
sold to a speculator or to a joint-stock company, she will find her
position a most unpleasant one; and to sum up the case, madam, either
your child is patented or she is not. If she is not patented, you are
guilty of forgery. If she is patented, she is an object of barter and
sale, or in other words a chattel.”
This was certainly a wretched state of things, and Mrs. Smith, to ease
her mind, began to abuse Mrs. Brown, whose stove had branded the
unfortunate little girl. She loudly insisted that the whole fault rested
with Mrs. Brown, and demanded to know if the latter could not be
punished. The young man, who was immensely learned in the law, thereupon
began a new argument. He told her that where there is a wrong there
must, in the nature of things, be a remedy. “Mrs. Brown, by means of her
stove, has done you a great wrong. In accordance with the maxim, _Qui
facit per alium facit per se_, Mrs. Brown, and not the stove, is the
party from whom you must demand redress. She has wickedly and
maliciously, and at the instigation of the devil, branded your child,
and thus rendered you liable for an infringement of the patent law. It
is my opinion, madam, that an action for assault and an action for libel
will both lie against Mrs. Brown, and ‘_semble_’ that there is also
ground for having her indicted for procurement of forgery.” Finally,
after much further argument, the young man advised her to apply to a
magistrate and procure the arrest and punishment of Mrs. Brown.
Accordingly, Mrs. Smith applied to the Mayor, who, after vainly trying
to comprehend the case, and to find out what was the precise crime
alleged against Mrs. Brown, compromised the matter by unofficially
asking the lady to appear before him. When both the ladies were in court
Mrs. Smith, prompted by the clerk, put her complaint in the shape of a
charge that Mrs. Brown had branded the youthful Smith girl. The latter
was then marked “Exhibit A,” and formally put in evidence, and both
complainant and defendant told their respective stories.
The result was that the court, in a very able and voluminous opinion,
decided that nobody was guilty of anything, but that, with a view of
avoiding the penalty of infringing the patent law, the mother must apply
to Congress for a special act declaring the child regularly and legally
patented.
If Congress finds time to attend to this important matter, little Miss
Smith will be the first girl ever patented in this country, and the
legal profession will watch with unflagging interest the law-suits to
which in future any infringement of the patent may lead.
_W. L. Alden._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_A TALK ABOUT TEA._
[Illustration: “OUR LEARNED FRIEND, DR. BUSHWHACKER.”]