The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 89, March, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 89, March, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
The ministerial undertaker was of course present at the funeral. He was
evidently as keen after business as he was powerful in prayer. When the
hour for moving from the house had arrived, he approached the widow and
whispered to her that he could not think of letting the coffin leave the
premises until some one had become surety for the payment of his bill!
My mother and myself both sat near the widow, and heard this
extraordinary and ill-timed demand. I was amazed and disgusted at the
indecency of the man in not urging it at the proper time, and pressing
it at so improper a one. But my mother told him to proceed, and that she
would pay the bill.
All these enormities were new things to me. I had seen nothing, I had
imagined nothing, so every way terrible as came within my notice under
the squalid roof of this poor needle-woman. But my mother had long been
in the habit of penetrating into the abodes of the sick and destitute;
and though shocked by the new combination of religion and trade which
she here witnessed, yet she regarded it only as a fresh development of
the selfishness and hypocrisy of human nature. This poor woman and her
family must live. How, thought I, is she to do so in this season of
declining prices of the only work she is able to perform? If she could
survive such a crisis so uncomplainingly, and be willing to take to her
bosom the helpless foundling left upon her doorstep, what cause was
there for me to complain? Sorrows gathered all round her pathway, while
only blessings clustered about mine. I learned a lesson of thankfulness
that has never been forgotten.
If there had been need of such exhibitions of positive distress as
teachers of contentment, others were not wanting within my little
circle. One of my cousins, a girl of my own age, ambitious to support
herself, had been successful in obtaining a situation as saleswoman in a
highly fashionable shop, where the most costly goods were sold in large
quantities, and to which, of course, the most dashing customers
resorted. I always thought her a truly beautiful girl. She was tall and
eminently graceful, her face expressing the virtue and intelligence of
her mind: for I cannot understand that true beauty can exist without
these corresponding mental harmonies, any more than a shadow without the
substance.
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