Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
as occasions arose, into the interior sadnesses, and the inevitable
conflicts of life. I knew--I anticipated to a dead certainty--that my
brother would not hear of any merit belonging to the factory population
whom every day we had to meet in battle; on the contrary, even
submission on _their_ part, and willingness to walk penitentially
through the _Furcæ Caudinæ_, would hardly have satisfied his sense of
their criminality. Continually, indeed, as we came in view of the
factory, he used to shake his fist at it, and say, in a ferocious tone
of voice, "_Delenda est Carthago!_" And certainly, I thought to myself,
it must be admitted by every body that the factory people are
inexcusable in raising a rebellion against my brother. But still rebels
were men, and sometimes were women; and rebels, that stretch out their
petticoats like fans for the sake of screening one from the hot pursuit
of enemies with fiery eyes (green or otherwise), really are not the sort
of people that one wishes to hate.
Homeward, therefore, I drew in sadness, and little doubting that
_hereafter_ I might have verbal feuds with my brother on behalf of my
fair friends, but not dreaming how much displeasure I had already
incurred by my treasonable collusion with their caresses. That part of
the affair he had seen with his own eyes from his position on the field;
and then it was that he left me indignantly to my fate, which, by my
first reception, it was easy to see would not prove very gloomy. When I
came into our own study, I found him engaged in preparing a _bulletin_
(which word was just then traveling into universal use), reporting
briefly the events of the day. Drawing, as I shall again have occasion
to mention, was among his foremost accomplishments; and round the margin
of the border ran a black border, ornamented with cypress, and other
funeral emblems. When finished, it was carried into the room of Mrs.
Evans. This Mrs. Evans was an important person in our affairs. My
mother, who never chose to have any direct communication with her
servants, always had a housekeeper for the regulation of all domestic
business; and the housekeeper for some years at this period was this
Mrs. Evans. Into her private parlor, where she sat aloof from the under
servants, my brother and I had the _entrée_ at all times, but upon very
different terms of acceptance: he, as a favorite of the first class;
_I_, by sufferance, as a sort of gloomy shadow that ran after _his_
person, and could not well be shut out if _he_ were let in. Him she
admired in the very highest degree; myself, on the contrary, she
detested, which made me unhappy. But then, in some measure, she made
amends for this, by despising me in extremity, and for _that_ I was
truly thankful--I need not say _why_, as the reader already knows. Why
she detested me, so far as I know, arose out of my reserve and
thoughtful abstraction. I had a great deal to say, but then I could say
it only to a very few people, among whom Mrs.
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