no bad news had actually reached me; for, during the brief moment
occupied in opening the letter, you can scarcely imagine the many
terrible things that passed through my head. Mother had had a fit,
fallen down and broken her leg, though brother Sam had promised me
faithfully not to leave her alone while I was gone; or that stupid
Dutch boy, who takes care of the cow and the fires, had left live coals
in the ash-box, and the house was burned to the ground. Or Sam himself
had got one of those severe attacks of inflammatory rheumatism, and
nobody there but mother to take care of him, and take his fretting
into the bargain, and she almost eighty years old. When I recovered
myself a little, I took that wretched sheet of paper, and was on the
point of penning a dignified expression of my sentiments below the
odious words, and handing it in silent scorn to my nephew-in-law at the
breakfast-table. But better feelings prevailed; I smoothed it nicely
in my portfolio, and am now scratching this hasty epistle upon its
surface, intending in the morning to write it more legibly on some of
my own fair sheets of Bath.
A few among the follies of this tiresome day have, I must acknowledge,
given me a certain sort of satisfaction. Holton Sparks has been come
up with himself; not by any means of mine, I earnestly assure you,
for, besides heartily despising it, I cannot in any shape perpetrate
"April fooling." Sam often says that this is because I am so
matter-of-fact; but, matter-of-fact or not, I trust that there is not
enough matter-of-folly in my composition to attempt such performances.
I always did abominate practical jokes, and Sam knows _that;_ yet the
jokes which that boy still puts upon me, though I am three years older
than himself, would be deemed improbable.
Well, when the breakfast-bell rang this morning, I went down stairs
with an air as erect and dignified as a woman of fif----no matter--with
such a demeanor as one who has outlived the fooleries of early
youth should make habitual. Holton Sparks is very fond of eggs, and
invariably takes the biggest on the dish. I observed that our landlady
directed the servant to hand them first to Mr. Sparks, who was too
intent on securing his egg to notice her action. Indeed, he never
hesitates to help himself first, quite regardless of the ladies who sit
near, and even of Ann Sophia. Holton is a tremendous eater, seeming to
think of nothing at table but disposing of his food as rapidly and in
as large quantities as possible. The manner of this gentleman is to
place a large piece of nicely buttered toast on his plate, pour the
egg over it, pepper the whole thoroughly, and swallow it as if the
preparation were some unpleasant dose that it is his duty to dispatch.
Mrs. Mashum, who is altogether too much given to laughing, and too
volatile for her station, sat behind the coffee urn shaking violently
with suppressed mirth. He broke the shell of his egg as usual, when,
behold, his plate was flooded with a dingy-looking liquid, which proved
to be warm dish-water. On comprehending the joke, he sent it away with
an offended air, and made his breakfast on beefsteak, without deigning
to join in the universal laugh. It seems that last evening he laid a
wager with Mrs. Mashum that she could not succeed in playing him a
trick, he should be so constantly upon his guard during All Fools'
Day. The affair of the egg has put him out of humor to such an extent
that we have been saved the infliction of any more jokes at his hands.
He has worn his dignity all day, not even Ann Sophia succeeding in
laughing or coaxing him into laying it aside. I rather think that he
grudges the dollar which he will have to lay out for the gloves, as
Mrs. Mashum has won the bet, and Ann Sophia assures him that a pair of
her own will not do by any means. He proposed that expedient to settle
the matter. Holton _is_ stingy. But his wife declared that such a good
joke deserved a pair of Alexander's best. It is not because I approve
of betting that I mention this, for I hold the practice in great
abhorrence. It was only of a piece with the other follies of the day,
and shows up Holton Sparks a little.
A small fire of fooling was kept up throughout the morning. If the
door-bell has been rung once, it has forty times, by Mrs. Mashum's cub
of a boy, who would jerk the handle or toss up his ball at the wire,
and then run out of sight. In going from my own room to my niece's, I
saw a sixpence on the floor, and, stooping down to pick it up, found it
fast. Congratulating myself on not having been observed, I was passing
on, when that disagreeable urchin shouted, from behind a door--
"April fool, old lady!"
He deserves to be sent to the House of Refuge.
Ann Sophia herself has put me out of all manner of patience by saying,
as I sat sewing at the front window in her parlor, "Pray, Aunt Abigail,
whose carriage do you suppose that is?" when no vehicle was in view but
the milkman's. Or, suddenly, she would exclaim, "What ladies are those
crossing the street?" when none were anywhere to be seen.
But the meanest of all was a very rude thing, which she repeated
several times upon different persons, apparently delighted with its
efficacy. This was to rush up suddenly, and screaming out, "See there!"
throw her arm directly across one's nose with so much force as to
oblige that organ to follow the direction of her outstretched finger,
whether or no. Such a sort of fooling by compulsion struck me as
particularly reprehensible.
"I'd try it on you, aunty," said the volatile child, "if I were not
afraid of scoring my arm."
Such an insinuation against my nose! Had it been any one besides Sophy,
I could not have forgiven the speech. She is such a highty-tighty.
But one trick which she played was really good, especially as
its object was a man to whom I have taken a huge dislike. He is
an Irish gentleman connected with some legal firm in town, most
desperately polite, with a very long round nose and fiery red hair.
He is continually poking dishes at me across the table, and is
fairly oppressive with his attentions. Moreover, he calls me "Mrs."
perpetually. "Mrs.," indeed! Intimating that I am old enough to be a
"Mrs.," if not one in fact. As he rises very late, he never appears
at breakfast with ourselves; but at dinner we have the misery of his
presence. To-day, when we were almost through with the first course, he
entered with an air much flushed and uncomfortable.
"Are you ill, Mr. O'Killigan?" asked Mrs. Mashum.
"No, thank you, madam," said he, with one of his customary efforts at
politeness. "But I have been trying for a long while to shave, till
forced in despair to give up the attempt. The deuce has got into my
soap."
"You have forgotten that it is the first of April. The day may have had
some influence upon your dressing-case," remarked one of the ladies
present.
"I declare, I have not thought of that," said he, and, springing from
the table, he ran to his room, returning with something which he begged
the ladies to examine. It proved to be a thick, fair slice of a raw
potato, in size and color so much like his own soap, which had been
removed, that he had detected no difference, except that it refused to
form a lather. This was the work of my mischievous niece, who looked at
it very gravely, and remarked, with much demureness--
"I always knew that you Irish were fond of potatoes, but was not aware
that you carried it to such an excess as to shave with that vegetable."
It would have better pleased me had O'Killigan been angry; but the
Irishman took the joke, and all the speeches made at his expense, with
entire good-humor, laughingly assuring the ladies that he would be
revenged before night. And, as he knew not whom to suspect, he adopted
a course which involved most of us in its consequences. When we retire
for the night, those who are not better provided equip themselves
with a candle, of which a supply stands ready in the lower hall. Such
a fuss as I had with my light this evening! It went out as soon as I
reached my own door; and, after relighting it several times by means of
matches, the tallow was exhausted, and I discovered that the blackened
remnant of wick was stuck into a carrot. That miserable Irishman
had enlisted Biddy Flyn, the chambermaid, in his service, and this
afternoon they spent two whole hours in the basement at their nefarious
work, trimming off carrots and giving them a very thin coating of
grease. Mrs. Mashum herself did not escape, for, just as she began
taking her usual rounds to see that all was safe for the night, her
treacherous light went out, leaving her in total darkness--in the lower
regions, too, for she was on the point of inspecting a keg of mackerel
in the cellar.
At this identical moment, having used up all my matches in vain
endeavors to light a candle, which, like its manufacturer's locks, I
had found to be carroty, I was on my way to the kitchen in pursuit of
a more reliable means of illumination, when I heard Mrs. Mashum scream
out--
"Bring a light, Biddy, for goodness sake! I shall step into this
rat-trap that you've set, if I stir an inch in the dark."
And all the while the shameful Biddy stood holding her sides, and
laughing in a most unreasonable way. Several persons were running along
the upper hall calling for lights, the ladies in a sort of demi-toilet,
and one of the young men, a dry-goods clerk, who dresses his hair with
a curling-tongs, having on a black silk night-cap. But the real culprit
did not suffer, after all, for Ann Sophia has her own solar lamp.
While these distressing events were transpiring, that mean Irishman,
with his big nose and red head, sat in the parlor, as cool as possible,
reading the "London News" by the light of a brilliant camphene lamp. I
wonder his hair did not ignite and cause an explosion. It would have
served him quite right.
Strange to say, Mrs. Mashum is not at all offended either at O'Killigan
or his accomplice, but has enjoyed their mischief in a way to me
utterly unaccountable. I suppose Sam would say that she knows how
to take a joke; for my part, they are things which I do not wish to
know how to take myself; I wash my hands of all participation in such
knowledge.
I have obtained a lamp that shall last till I have finished this
narrative of to-day's outrageous proceedings. On passing the
parlor-door, I heard that disagreeable O'Killigan say to his landlady,
in reply to some of her pretended threats of punishment--
"At any rate, my good Mrs. Mashum, you cannot arrest me for incendiary
attempts; I have made such laudable exertions to put out the flames in
the house."
Impudent fellow! I had a mind to say something about the blaze on his
own head; but I forbore, passing on in offended silence.
Now, my dear Mr. Godey, set a good example, and lead the way in a
reform of these abuses, as you have in so many other praiseworthy
undertakings. Frown upon these April fooleries, especially as levelled
at the peace and quiet of respectable single women. If my letter is
too late to take effect this present season, please give it due notice
before a twelvemonth hence. You will thus oblige and gratify your
friend and constant reader,
ABIGAIL SNIPE.
_Postscript._ I shall go home to-morrow, and finish Holton Sparks's
last new shirt in the pleasant seclusion afforded by my own
hearthstone. I cannot endure the thought of sitting at the table in
this house any longer, opposite that dreadful O'Killigan, hearing
him crack his dry jokes while he rubs his chin with his thumb and
forefinger. To be obliged to listen when he comments on the mishaps of
this evening would surely set me into a nervous fit. It strikes me that
I have read in one of Sam's old books--"Sal" somebody's writings--of
an elderly lady who "died of a Frenchman." If I were to stay here much
longer, I should assuredly die of this middle-aged Irishman.
Depend upon it, I shall not breathe a word to Sam of my trials at
Sophy's boarding-house, in consequence of the inmates all making fools
of themselves and me on the FIRST OF APRIL.
INTELLECTUAL ENDOWMENTS OF CHILDREN.
AN extremely intelligent boy, of about twelve years of age,
was once brought to the late Dr. Deville, an English phrenologist,
for examination, by a parent who was very proud of the intellectual
endowments of his child. Dr. Deville gave his opinion of the boy's
character, at the same time cautioning the father of the dangerous
course he was pursuing. But the father's reply was, "All that other
boys considered labor and hard study were merely child's play to him;
and that his studies could not be hurtful to him--he enjoyed them so
much." Again Dr. Deville endeavored to save the child, but the father
would not attend to the warning. Two years from that time he again
called on Dr. Deville, and, in reply to his inquiries about the child,
burst into tears, and stated that the boy was an idiot.
GODEY'S COURSE OF LESSONS IN DRAWING.
LESSON V.
The outline of the stem and the curve of the scroll of Fig. 54 must
first be drawn, the distances and proportions of the various parts
being carefully observed. In sketching the scroll in Fig. 55, the eye
alone will be the guide, the directions and distances of the various
parts being marked off before filling in the details.
[Illustration: Fig. 54.]
[Illustration: Fig. 55.]
[Illustration: Fig. 56.]
[Illustration: Fig. 57.]
The method of drawing the rosette forming part of the scroll shown in
Fig. 57 is displayed in Fig. 56, the circle being drawn first.
In sketching Fig. 58, the direction of the curve must first be
ascertained, its due proportions noted, thereafter filling in the
details.
The stem, leaves, flower, and buds of the wall-flower in Fig. 59 will
afford an interesting example for practice at this stage of progress;
the stem, its length and direction, should first be drawn, the position
of the leaves, &c. marked thereon, and the details thereafter filled in.
[Illustration: Fig. 58.]
[Illustration: Fig. 59.]
[Illustration: Fig. 60.]
[Illustration: Fig. 61.]
The sketch in Fig. 60, which represents the stem, leaves, and flower of
the yellow crowfoot, will be drawn in the same way as above.
The flower of the honeysuckle in Fig. 61 affords a good example for
free pencil-sketching. The stem should be drawn first, then an outline
made which will touch all the exterior parts of the sketch, as in Figs.
44 and 52; the distances of the leaves should next be drawn on this,
and the details put in. The pupil should endeavor to copy this example
correctly; it may appear very difficult, but, by a careful attention
to the rules we have given, and a little determination to "try again,"
if perchance she should once or twice fail, the difficulty will soon
vanish.
[Illustration: Fig. 62.]
[Illustration: Fig. 63.]
[Illustration: Fig. 64.]
[Illustration: Fig. 65.]
The sketch in Fig. 62, representing a human foot, may be put in by
first drawing the general outline, thereafter finishing the details.
Figs. 63, 64, and 65 will be drawn in the same manner.
DRESS--AS A FINE ART.
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
CONCLUSION.
WE look forward hopefully to a day when art-education will
be extended to all ranks; when a knowledge of the beautiful will
be added to that of the useful; when good taste, based upon real
knowledge and common sense, will dictate our fashions in dress as in
other things. We have schools of art to reform our taste in pottery,
hardware, and textile fabrics, not to speak of the higher walks of
art, painting, sculpture, and architecture. The handle of a jug, the
stem of a wine-glass, the design for dress silks or lace veils, will
form the subjects of lectures to the students of the various schools
of design; disquisitions are written on the important question whether
the ornamental designs should represent the real form of objects, or
only give a conventional representation of them, while the study of the
human figure, the masterpiece of creation, is totally neglected, except
by painters and sculptors. We hope that the study of form will be more
extended, that it will be universal, that it will, in fact, enter into
the general scheme of education, and that we shall hereafter see as
much pains bestowed in improving by appropriate costume the figure
which nature has given us, as we do now in distorting it by tight
stays, narrow and high-heeled shoes, and all the other deformities and
eccentricities of that many-faced monster, fashion. The economy of the
frame, and the means of preserving it in health and beauty, should form
an integral part of education. There can be no true beauty without
health, and how can we hope to secure health if we are ignorant of the
means of promoting it, or if we violate its precepts by adopting absurd
and pernicious fashions?
Surely it is not too much to hope that dress-makers will hereafter
attend the schools of design, to study the human form, and thence learn
to appreciate its beauties, and to clothe it with appropriate dress,
calculated to display its beauties to the greatest advantage, and to
conceal its defects--the latter with the reservation we have already
noticed. We hope, also, that the shoe-maker will learn to model the
shoe upon the true form of the foot.
Manufacturers are now convinced of the importance and utility of
schools of design, and whether the article hereafter to be produced be
a cup and saucer, a fender, a pattern for a dress or for furniture, for
a service of plate or diamond tiara, it is thought proper that the
pupil, as a preliminary course that cannot be dispensed with, should
commence with the study of the human figure. Yet, is not dress an
art-manufacture as well as a cup and saucer, or a tea-board? Are there
less skill and talent, less taste required to clothe the form which we
are told is made after God's own image, than to furnish an apartment?
Why should not dressmakers and tailors attend the schools of design as
well as those artisans who are intended to be employed in what are now
called art-manufactures? Why should not shoe-makers be taught the shape
and movements of the foot? If this were the case, we are satisfied that
an immediate and permanent improvement would be the consequence in our
style of dress.
We believe that many portrait painters stipulate that they shall be
allowed to dictate the dress, at least as regards the arrangement of
the colors, of their sitters; the reason of this is that the painter's
selection of dress and color is based upon the study of the figure
and complexion of the individual, or the knowledge of the effects of
contrast and harmony of lines, tissues, and colors, while the models
which are presented for his imitation too frequently offer to his view
a style of dress, both as regards form and color, which sets the rules
of harmony at defiance. Now, only suppose that the dress-maker had the
painter's knowledge of form and harmony of lines and colors, what a
revolution would take place in dress? We should no longer see the tall
and the short, the slender and the stout, the brown and the fair, the
old and the young, dressed alike, but the dress would be adapted to the
individual; and we believe that, were the plan of study we recommend
generally adopted, this purpose might always be effected without the
sacrifice of what is now the grand desideratum in dress--novelty.
The reasons why the art of dressmaking has not hitherto received the
attention which it deserves, are to be sought for in the constitution
of society. The branches of manufacture which require a knowledge of
design, such as calico-printing, silk and ribbon-weaving, porcelain and
pottery, and hardware manufactures, are conducted on a large scale by
men of wealth and talent, who, if they would compete successfully with
rival manufactures, find it necessary to study and apply to their own
business all the improvements in science with which their intercourse
with society gives them an opportunity of becoming acquainted. It is
quite otherwise with dressmaking. A woman is at the head of every
establishment of this kind a woman generally of limited education
and attainments, from whom cannot be expected either liberality of
sentiment or enlarged views, but who possibly possesses some tact
and discrimination of character, which enable her to exercise a kind
of dictatorial power in matters of dress over her customers; these
customers are scarcely better informed on the subject than herself.
The early life of the dressmaker is spent in a daily routine of labor
with the needle, and, when she becomes a mistress in her turn, she
exacts from her assistants the same amount of daily labor that was
formerly expected from herself. Work, work, work with the needle
from almost childhood, in the same close room from morning to night,
and not unfrequently from night to morning also, is the everlasting
routine of the monotonous life of the dressmakers. They are working for
bread, and have no leisure to attend to the improvement of the mind,
and the want of this mental cultivation is apparent in the articles
they produce by their labor. When one of the young women who attend
these establishments to learn the trade thinks she has had sufficient
experience, she leaves the large establishment and sets up in business
on her own account. In this new situation, she works equally hard, and
has therefore no time for improving her mind and taste. Of the want
of this, however, she is not sensible, because she can purchase for
a trifle all the newest patterns, and the thought never enters her
poor little head that the same fashion may not suit all her customers.
This defective education of the dressmakers, or rather their want
of knowledge of the human form, is one of the great causes of the
prevalence of the old fashion of tight-lacing. It is so much easier
to make a closely-fitting body suit over a tight stay than it is on
the pliant and yielding natural form, in which, if one part be drawn a
little too tight, or the contrary, the body of the dress is thrown out
of shape. Supposing, on the other hand, the fit to be exact, it is so
difficult to keep such a tight-fitting body in its place on the figure
without securing its form by whalebones, that it is in vain to expect
the stays to become obsolete until the tight-fitting bodice is also
given up.
This will never take place until not only the ladies who are to be
clothed, but the dressmakers shall make the human form their study, and
direct their efforts to set off their natural advantages by attending
to the points which are their characteristic beauties. A long and
delicate throat, falling shoulders, not too wide from point to point,
a flat back, round chest, wide hips; these are the points which should
be developed by the dress. Whence it follows that every article of
dress which shortens the throat, adds height or width to the shoulders,
roundness to the back, or flatness to the chest, must be radically
wrong in principle, and unpleasant and repulsive in effect. In the same
manner, whatever kind of dress adds to the height of a figure already
too tall and thin, or detracts from the apparent height of the short
and stout, must be avoided. These things should form the study of the
dressmaker.
As society is now constituted, however, the dressmaker has not, as we
have already observed, leisure to devote to studies of the necessity
and importance of which she is still ignorant. The reform must be begun
by the ladies themselves. They must acquire a knowledge of form, and
of the principles of beauty and harmony, and so exercise a controlling
influence over the dressmakers. By this means a better taste will be
created, and the dressmakers will at length discover their deficiency
in certain guiding principles, and will be driven at last to resort
to similar studies. But in this case a startling difficulty presents
itself--the poor dressmaker is at present over-worked: how can she
find leisure to attend the schools of design, or even pursue, if she
had the ability, the necessary studies at home? A girl is apprenticed
to the trade at the age of thirteen or fourteen, she works at it
all her life, rising early, and late taking rest, and what is the
remuneration of her daily toil of twelve hours? Eighteenpence, or at
most two shillings a day, with her board! As she reckons the value of
the latter at a shilling, it follows that the earnings of a dressmaker,
in the best period of her life, who goes out to work, could not exceed
15_s._, or at the most 18_s._ a week, if she did not, at the hazard
of her health--which, indeed, is frequently sacrificed--work at home
before she begins, and after she has finished her day's work abroad.
The carpenter or house-painter does not work harder, or bring to bear
on his employment greater knowledge than the poor dressmaker, yet he
has 4_s._ 6_d._ a day without his board, while she has only what is
equivalent to 2_s._ 6_d._ or 3_s.!_ What reason can be assigned why a
woman's work, if equally well done, should not be as well paid as that
of a man? A satisfactory reason has yet to be given; the fact, however,
is indisputable that women are not in general so well paid for their
labor as men.
LETTERS LEFT AT THE PASTRY-COOK'S:
BEING THE CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN KITTY CLOVER AT SCHOOL,
AND HER "DEAR, DEAR FRIEND" IN TOWN.
EDITED BY HORACE MAYHEW.
THE FIFTH LETTER LEFT.
(_Written on copy-book paper, apparently left by hand._)