The Greatest Plague of Life: or, the Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant.Mayhew, Henry
General
The Greatest Plague of Life: or, the Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant.
Mayhew, Henry
English wit and humor; Household employees
long ago; and that I should be a lucky woman if my constitution was half
as fine as hers. So as I saw it was useless arguing the point with her,
I let her have her own way, and was’nt at all sorry when ten o’clock
came, and I had seen her fairly up stairs to her bed-room, where she
kept Susan a good three-quarters of an hour at least fiddle-faddleing
and tying her flannel petticoat round her head, and tucking her up, and
pinning her shawl before the window, and what not.
Next morning, when she came down to breakfast, she told us that she had
got the rheumatism in both her legs so bad, that she had been forced to
wrap them up in brown paper, which she said she found to be the best of
all remedies, and an infallible cure; and sure enough there she was
going about the house with her legs done up for all the world like a
pair of new tongs in an ironmonger’s shop. All breakfast time, she would
tell us how she had made it a duty to try every new cure as fast as it
came up, and how she supposed she must have written in her time at least
thirty testimonials of wonderful cures effected upon her by different
medicines, which, she said, she had since found out had never done her
any good at all. At one time, she swore by brandy and salt, and she took
so much of it, that, instead of curing her illness, she verily believed
she was only curing herself like so much bacon. At another period, she
had pinned her faith entirely to cold water, and she was sure she must
have swallowed a small river in her time; she had had it pumped upon her
too, and sat in it, and bathed in it, and slept in it, she might say,
for she went to bed in nothing but damp sheets for a year and
more--until really she had washed every bit of colour out of her cheeks;
and she felt that if she was to wring her hands, water would run from
them like a wet flannel. After that, she had gone raving mad about
homœopathy, and had nearly starved herself to death with its finikin
infinitessimal doses; for whole weeks she used to take nothing for
breakfast but the billionth part of a spoonful of tea in a quart of
boiling water, and the ten thousandth part of an ounce of butter to
eight sixty-sixths of a quartern loaf; while her dinner had frequently
consisted of three ounces and two drachms of the lean of a neck of
mutton made into broth with a gallon of water, flavoured with three
pennyweights of carrot, and a scruple of greens, and seasoned with two
grains and a half of pepper, and the sixteenth of a pinch of salt.
Since, however, she had discovered her wonderful pill, she had left all
her other specifics, and never felt so well, and consequently so happy,
before: and then she pulled out a box, and would make me take a couple
of the filthy little things with my tea, saying that they would make me
so comfortable and good-tempered, that I should hardly know myself
again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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