It was Tuesday evening, and a whole bevy of young people had assembled
at Mr. K.'s. Beauty and wit were there, and seemed to vie with each
other for superiority. The beaux and belles were in high glee. All was
life and animation. The door opened, and Mr. K. entered the room. A
young lady, rather above the middle height, and of a form of the most
perfect symmetry, was leaning on his arm. She was dressed in a plain
white muslin gown; a lace 'kerchief was thrown gracefully over her
shoulders, and a profusion of auburn hair hung in ringlets down her
neck, which had no decoration save a single string of pearl; her head
was destitute of ornament, with the exception of one solitary rosebud on
the left temple; her complexion was a mixture of the rose and the lily;
a pair of large hazel eyes, half concealed by their long silken lashes,
beamed with intelligence and expression, as they cast a furtive glance
at the company. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. K., "this is my niece,
Miss Croly;" and as with a modest dignity she courtesied, a beholder
could scarce refrain from applying to her Milton's description of Eve
when she first came from the hand of her Creator. Mr. K. crossed the
room with his niece, seated her by the side of his daughter, and,
wishing the young people a pleasant evening, retired. The eyes of all
were turned towards the stranger, eager to ascertain whether indeed she
was the little girl who once attended the same school with them, but who
had, for a number of years past, been employed in a "Lowell factory."
"Oh, it is the same," said the Miss Lindsays. "How presumptuous," said
Caroline Lindsay to a gentleman who sat near her, "thus to intrude a
factory girl into our company! Unless I am very much mistaken, I shall
make her sorry for her impudence, and wish herself somewhere else
before the party breaks up." "Indeed, Miss Caroline, you will not try to
distress the poor girl; you cannot be so cruel," said the gentleman, who
was no other than the eldest son of Esq. S., who had on the preceding
day returned home, after an absence of two years on a tour through
Europe. "Cruel!" said Caroline, interrupting him, "surely, Mr. S., you
cannot think it cruel to keep people where they belong; or if they get
out of the way, to set them right; and you will soon see that I shall
direct Miss Presumption to her proper place, which is in the
kitchen,"--and giving her head a toss, she left Mr. S., and seating
herself by Emily and Martha, inquired when the latter left Lowell, and
if the factory girls were as ignorant as ever.
Martha replied by informing her when she left the "city of spindles;"
and also by telling her that she believed the factory girls, considering
the little time they had for the cultivation of their minds, were not,
in the useful branches of education, behind any class of females in the
Union. "What chance can they have for improvement?" said Caroline: "they
are driven like slaves to and from their work, for fourteen hours in
each day, and dare not disobey the calls of the factory bell. If they
had the means for improvement, they have not the time; and it must be
that they are quite as ignorant as the southern slaves, and as little
fitted for society." Martha colored to the eyes at this unjust
aspersion; and Emily, in pity to her cousin, undertook to refute the
charge. Mr. S. drew near, and seating himself by the cousins, entered
into conversation respecting the state of society in Lowell. Martha soon
recovered her self-possession, and joined in the conversation with more
than her usual animation, yet with a modest dignity which attracted the
attention of all present. She mentioned the evening schools for teaching
penmanship, grammar, geography, and other branches of education, and how
highly they were prized, and how well they were attended by the factory
girls. She also spoke of the Lyceum and Institute, and other lectures;
and her remarks were so appropriate and sensible, that even those who
were at first for assisting Caroline Lindsay in directing her to her
"proper place," and who even laughed at what they thought to be Miss
Lindsay's wit,--became attentive listeners, and found that even one who
"had to work for a living" could by her conversation add much to the
enjoyment of "good society."
All were now disposed to treat Martha with courtesy, with the exception
of the Miss Lindsays, who sat biting their lips for vexation; mortified
to think that in trying to make Martha an object of ridicule, they had
exposed themselves to contempt. Mr. S. took upon himself the task (if
task it could be called, for one whose feelings were warmly enlisted in
the work) of explaining in a clear and concise manner the impropriety of
treating people with contempt for none other cause than that they earned
an honest living by laboring with their hands. He spoke of the duty of
the rich, with regard to meliorating the condition of the poor, not only
in affairs of a pecuniary nature, but also by encouraging them in the
way of well-doing, by bestowing upon them that which would cost a good
man or woman nothing,--namely, kind looks, kind words, and all the sweet
courtesies of life. His words were not lost; for those who heard him
have overcome their prejudices against labor and laboring people, and
respect the virtuous whatever may be their occupation.