Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
General
Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
American literature -- Massachusetts -- Lowell; American literature -- Women authors; Working class women -- Literary collections
"Well, wife, let her go;" and Mr. Atkins took up the Patriot again.
"But I do not see how I can spare her; the spring cleaning is not done,
nor the soap made, nor the boys' summer clothes; and you say that you
intend to board your own 'men-folks' and keep two more cows than you did
last year; and Charley can scarcely go alone. I do not see how I can get
along without her."
"But you say she does not assist you any about the house."
"Well, husband, she _might_."
"Yes, she might do a great many things which she does not think of
doing; and as I do not see that she means to be useful here; we will let
her go to the factory."
"Father, are you in earnest? may I go to Lowell?" said Abby; and she
raised her bright black eyes to her father's, with a look of exquisite
delight.
"Yes, Abby, if you will promise me one thing, and that is, that you will
stay a whole year without visiting us, excepting in case of sickness,
and that you will stay but one year."
"I will promise anything, father, if you will only let me go; for I
thought you would say that I had better stay at home, and pick rocks,
and weed the garden, and drop corn, and rake hay; and I do not want to
do such work any longer. May I go with the Slater girls next Tuesday?
for that is the day they have set for their return."
"Yes, Abby, if you will remember that you are to stay a year, and only a
year."
Abby retired to rest that night with a heart fluttering with pleasure;
for ever since the visit of the Slater girls, with new silk dresses, and
Navarino bonnets trimmed with flowers and lace veils, and gauze
handkerchiefs, her head had been filled with visions of fine clothes;
and she thought if she could only go where she could dress like them,
she would be completely happy. She was naturally very fond of dress, and
often, while a little girl, had she sat on the grass bank by the
road-side, watching the stage which went daily by her father's retired
dwelling; and when she saw the gay ribbons and smart shawls, which
passed like a bright phantom before her wondering eyes, she had thought
that when older she too would have such things; and she looked forward
to womanhood as to a state in which the chief pleasure must consist in
wearing fine clothes. But as years passed over her, she became aware
that this was a source from which she could never derive any enjoyment,
while she remained at home, for her father was neither able nor willing
to gratify her in this respect, and she had begun to fear that she must
always wear the same brown cambric bonnet, and that the same calico gown
would always be her "go-to-meeting dress." And now what a bright picture
had been formed by her ardent and uncultivated imagination.--Yes, she
would go to Lowell, and earn all that she possibly could, and spend
those earnings in beautiful attire; she would have silk dresses,--one of
grass green, and another of cherry red, and another upon the color of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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