566

THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN

She filled a higher, holier niche in countless instances, and her fidelity was almost sub­lime. In her arms the little ones cried “ Sanctuary,” and in truth the tyrants of the home were likely to be Aunt Dinah and Old Black Joe.

Larger children played with sable mates. Hospitality reigned with princely hand. Social life held supremacy, and the mistress had all she could do to provide for her guests and for the well-being of her dependents. The dying arts of spinning and weaving were turned over to Aunt Sallie, who still rolled out yards of homespun for the “ hands;” but once her wooly head was laid low and these implements of early thrift were packed away, alongside of “ Uncle Ned’s fiddle and de bow.” The mistress trained and taught and managed, till she had time for little else. True, she did no menial service. Did she venture with industrious intent into the kitchen, how promptly Old Aunt Kitty would shake her beturbaned head and cry, “ Now you jist go right along in de house, Mistress; I ain’t guine to hab yer spilen yer pretty white han’s.” How is it now? The cooking school is sending forth adepts in the art, and the pretty white hands are of secondary consideration.

The aged negroes who have clung with child-like trust to the “ white folks ” are cared for while they live, and buried when they die. Not from the cabin door, but from the wide marble portals of the family mansion. Only last year an old servant was thus buried from Dr. H. M. Skillinan’s home at Lexington, and the remains lay in state in their handsome parlors. This case is the rule, not the exception, and no will is ever probated but a legacy is found therein to the old family servants.

Now let us look at the poor relations of the period; the old maid cousins and aunts; for girls were old maids at twenty if still unmarried. Not one would dare express her wish to get out and earn a living. It was a violation of social caste. She might thus bring reproach upon rich Aunt Margaret. She was welcome to abide with rich Aunt Margaret and take the snubbing that chanced to her lot. She might bring up every one of the children till decrepit with age, and get an unsystematic sort of providing for in pay. She knew absolutely nothing of business. Why should she if she was gifted with a voice, she did not dare hear, but in a church choir. Oh, no; she might sing if she did not sing too loud, for this though a bit conspicuous was a holy thing to do. She could not take money for it; on no account must she earn money. For a long while no exception was made in favor of school teaching. She might trim bonnets if she kept her shop at home; or if married and abjectly poor, taking a few genteel boarders might be forgiven, especially if that little evasive fib could pass current, that she was doing it just for company. But there was a perceptible drop in the social scale. Young women if caught washing dishes were talked about. The very next sewing society sat on the case, for mind you, the women must not know anything to talk about, and yet they were held fully responsible. Was it any wonder that tea-table and sewing-society gossip passed into a proverb. There was actually nothing for a .girl to do but get married. This was the aim, if not the end, of her career. Old Miss Smith, I shall call her, was slave in her father’s house all her life. She attended to the spinning, the weaving, butter making, sheep shearing, hog­killing, fruit gathering, pickling, preserving, and all the rest from early morn to late bedtime. He was a rich man. When he died he willed all his property to his well- to-do sons,and left this daughter a black woman and one old mare. The old maid mildly lifted up her voice in protest when the‘will was read. She ventured to say it was not fair; at least she did not think it was fair. “Why, what on earth do you want with money?” they said. “You are not married, you have no family, you know you are to take turns about living with us.” And whenever they saw her riding up on her old mare, her face soured and disappointed and out of humor, there didn’t anybody enjoy her visit. Now a father dies and not only leaves money to his daughters, but often ties it up so that their husbands can not touch it. Then mothers shielded their daughters from menial work, and would not even acknowledge that they were help­ing. They must not be old maids; and the dread of having to spend their lives in weary, thankless pilgrimages from Brother Joe’s to Sister Mary’s forces many a high-