FAT OLD LADY (_to neighbor_)--I never was so warm in my life! I can'timagine why people invite you, just to make you uncomfortable. Now, whenI entertain, I have the windows open for hours before any one comes.
JOKER (_aside_)--That's why she always has a frost! Ha, ha!
(HOST _enters, showing traces of hasty toilette--face red, and arazor-cut on chin._)
HOST (_rubbing his hands, and endeavoring to appear at ease andfacetious_)--Well, how d'ye do, everybody! Sorry to be late on such anauspicious--
JOKER (_interrupting_)--Suspicious! Ha, ha!
HOST--occasion. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves.
CHORUS OF GUESTS--Yes, indeed!
HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh! I have a great disappointment for you all. Hereis a telegram from my _best_ singer, saying she is sick, and can't come.Now, we will have the pleasure of listening to Miss Jackson. MissJackson is a pupil of Madame Parcheesi, of Paris. (_Singer whispers toher._) Oh, I beg your pardon! It's Madame _Mar_cheesi.
DEAF OLD GENTLEMAN (_seated by piano, talking to pretty girl_)--I'drather listen to you than hear this caterwauling. (Old Gentleman _isdragged into corner and silenced._)
YOUNG WOMAN (_singing_)--"Why do I sing? I know not, I know not! I cannot help but sing. Oh, why do I sing?"
(_Guests moan softly and demand of one another_, Why does she sing?)
WOMAN GUEST (_to another_)--Isn't that just the way?--their relativesare always dying, and it's sure to be wash-day or just when you expectcompany to dinner, and off they go to the funeral--
(Butler _appears with trayful of punch-glasses._)
MALE GUEST (_to another_)--Thank the Lord! here's relief in sight. Let'sdrown our troubles.
THE OTHER--It's evident you haven't sampled the Smythes' punch before. Itell you it's a crime to spoil a thirst with this stuff. Well, here'show.
WOMAN GUEST (_to neighbor_)--I never saw Mrs. Smythe looking quite sohideous and atrociously vulgar before, did you?
NEIGHBOR--Never! Why did we come?
VOICE (_overheard_)--The one in the white-lace gown and all thosediamonds?
ANOTHER VOICE--Yes. Well, you know it was common talk that before hemarried her--
HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh! Signor Padrella has offered to play some of hisown compositions, but I thought you would all rather hear somethingfamiliar by one of the real composers--Rubens or Chopin--Chopinhauer, Ithink--
(Pianist _plunges wildly into something._)
VOICE (_during a lull in the music_)--First, you brown an onion in thepan, then you chop the cabbage--
GUEST (_in the dressing-room, just arriving, to another_)--Yes, we areawfully late, too, but I always say you never can be too late at one ofthe Smythes' horrors.
THIN YOUNG WOMAN (_in limp pink gown and string of huge pearls, who hascome to recite_)--I'm awfully nervous, and I do believe I'm gettinghoarse. Mama, you didn't forget the lemon juice and sugar? (_Drinks frombottle._) Now, where are my bronchial troches? Don't you think I couldstand just a little more rouge? I think it's a shame I'm not going tohave footlights. Remember, you are not to prompt me, unless I look atyou. You will get me all mixed up, if you do. (_They descend._)
HOSTESS (_to elocutionist_)--Why, I thought you were never coming! Iwanted you to fill in while people were taking their seats. The guestsalways make so much noise, and the singers hate it. Now, what did yousay you would require--an egg-beater and a turnip, wasn't it? Oh, no!That's for the young man who is going to do the tricks. I remember. Areyou all ready?
ELOCUTIONIST (_in a trembling voice_)--Ye-es.
HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh!
ELOCUTIONIST--_Aux Italiens._
"At Paris it was, at the opera there, And she looked like--"
GUEST (_to another_)--Thirty cents, old chap! I tell you, there'snothing will knock you out quicker than--
HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh!
(_Young woman finishes, and retires amidst subdued applause. Reappearsimmediately and gives "The Maniac."_)
HOSTESS--As I have been disappointed in my best talent for this evening,Mr. Briggs has kindly consented to do some of his parlor-magic tricks.
(Mr. Briggs _steps forward, a large, florid young man, wearing a "made"dress-tie, the buckle of which crawls up the back of his collar._)
BRIGGS--Now, ladies and gentlemen, I shall have to ask you all to moveto the other side of the room. (_This is accomplished with muttereduncomplimentary remarks concerning the magician._)
BRIGGS (_to Hostess_)--I must have the piano pushed to the further end.I must have plenty of space. (_All the men guests are pressed intoservice, and, with much difficulty the piano is moved._)
BRIGGS--Now, I want four large screens.
HOSTESS (_faintly_)--But I have only two!
BRIGGS--Well, then, get me a clothes-horse and a couple of sheets.
POOR RELATIVE--You know, Sarah, I used the last two when I made up mybed in the children's nursery yesterday. I can easily get--
HOSTESS (_hastily_)--No, Maria, don't trouble. (_To guests_)--Perhaps,some of you gentlemen wouldn't mind lending us your overcoats to coverthe clothes-horse?
CHORUS (_with great lack of enthusiasm_)--Of course! Delighted! (_Theygo for coats._)
HOSTESS (_to Poor Relative_)--Maria, you get the clothes-horse. I thinkit's in the laundry, or--Oh, I think it's in the cellar. Well, you looktill you find it. (_To Briggs_)--I got as many of the things you askedfor as I could remember. Will you read the list over?
BRIGGS--Turnip and egg-beater--
HOSTESS--Yes.
BRIGGS--Egg, large clock, jar of gold-fish, rabbit and empty barrel.
HOSTESS--I have the egg.
BRIGGS (_much annoyed_)--I particularly wanted the gold-fish, the clockand the barrel.
(_Guests grow restless._)
Hostess--Couldn't you do a trick while we are waiting--one with theegg-beater and turnip?
BRIGGS--No; I don't know one.
HOSTESS--Couldn't you make up one?
BRIGGS (_icily_)--Certainly not.
(_Gloom descends over the company, until the Poor Relative arrives,staggering under the clothes-horse._)
CHORUS OF MEN GUESTS--Let me help you!
(_Improvised screen is finally arranged._ Briggs _performs "parlormagic" for an hour. Guests, fidget, yawn and commence to drop away, oneby one._)
GUEST (_to Hostess_)--Really, we must tear ourselves away. Such adelightful evening!--not a dull moment. And your punch--heavenly! Do askus again. Good night.
HOSTESS--Thank you so much! So good of you to come.
ANOTHER GUEST--Yes, we must go. I've had a perfectly dear time.
HOSTESS--So sorry you must go. So good of you to come. Good night.
IN THE DRESSING-ROOM
CHORUS OF GUESTS--Wasn't it awful?--Such low people!--Why did we evercome--Parvenue!
ELOCUTIONIST--I was all right, wasn't I, mama? You noticed they neverclapped a bit until I'd walked the whole length of the room to my chair.It just showed how wrought up they were. You nearly mixed me up, though,prompting me in the wrong place; I--
HOSTESS (_throwing herself on sofa as door closes on last guest_)--Well,I'm completely done up! (_To Poor Relative_)--Maria, run up to my room,and get my red worsted bed-slippers. I can't stand these satin torturesa minute longer. Entertaining is an awful strain. It's so hard tryingnot to say the wrong thing at the right place. But, then, it certainlywent off beautifully. I could tell every one had such a good time!
COMIN' THU
BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON
Yer's a sinner comin' thu, Crowd roun', bre'ren, sisters, too, Sing wid all yo' might an' main, He'p de sinner out er pain, He's comin', comin' thu.
He bin "seekin'" dis long time, He'p him cas' de foe behime, Clap yo' han's an' sing an' shout, He'p him cas' de debil out, Le's wrassel him right thu.
Tu'rr side de Gate er Sin, Year him kickin' ter git in, Putt up prayers wid might an' main, Dat he doesn' kick in
vain, Y'all kin pray him thu.
Heart a-bus'in' fer de right, Debil hol'in' to him tight, Year him swish dat forked tail, See de sinner-man turn pale, Come on an' he'p him thu.
Sinner hangin' 'bove de pit, By a hya'r strotch over hit, Debil hol' one eend an' shake, Y'all kin see de sinner quake, Quick, he'p dis man come thu.
Seize de ropes, now, ev'y man, He'p de gospel ship ter lan', One long pull an' one gre't shout, Hallelu! We got him out, De sinner done come thu!
AUNT DINAH'S KITCHEN
BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
Like a certain class of modern philosophers, Dinah perfectly scornedlogic and reason in every shape, and always took refuge in intuitivecertainty; and here she was perfectly impregnable. No possible amount oftalent, or authority, or explanation could ever make her believe thatany other way was better than her own, or that the course she hadpursued in the smallest matter could be in the least modified. This hadbeen a conceded point with her old mistress, Marie's mother; and "MissMarie," as Dinah always called her young mistress, even after hermarriage, found it easier to submit than contend; and so Dinah had ruledsupreme. This was the easier, in that she was perfect mistress of thatdiplomatic art which unites the utmost subservience of manner with theutmost inflexibility as to measure.
Dinah was the mistress of the whole art and mystery of excuse-making, inall its branches. Indeed, it was an axiom with her that the cook can dono wrong, and a cook in a Southern kitchen finds abundance of heads andshoulders on which to lay off every sin and frailty, so as to maintainher own immaculateness entire. If any part of the dinner was a failure,there were fifty indisputably good reasons for it, and it was the fault,undeniably, of fifty other people, whom Dinah berated with unsparingzeal.
But it was very seldom that there was any failure in Dinah's lastresults. Though her mode of doing everything was peculiarly meanderingand circuitous, and without any sort of calculation as to time andplace,--though her kitchen generally looked as if it had been arrangedby a hurricane blowing through it, and she had about as many places foreach cooking utensil as there were days in the year,--yet, if one couldhave patience to wait her own good time, up would come her dinner inperfect order, and in a style of preparation with which an epicure couldfind no fault.
It was now the season of incipient preparation for dinner. Dinah, whorequired large intervals of reflection and repose, and was studious ofease in all her arrangements, was seated on the kitchen floor, smoking ashort, stumpy pipe, to which she was much addicted, and which she alwayskindled up, as a sort of censer, whenever she felt the need of aninspiration in her arrangements. It was Dinah's mode of invoking thedomestic Muses.
Seated around her were various members of that rising race with which aSouthern household abounds, engaged in shelling peas, peeling potatoes,picking pin-feathers out of fowls, and other preparatory arrangements,Dinah every once in a while interrupting her meditations to give a poke,or a rap on the head, to some of the young operators, with thepudding-stick that lay by her side. In fact, Dinah ruled over the woollyheads of the younger members with a rod of iron, and seemed to considerthem born for no earthly purpose but to "save her steps," as she phrasedit. It was the spirit of the system under which she had grown up, andshe carried it out to its full extent.
Miss Ophelia, after passing on her reformatory tour through all theother parts of the establishment, now entered the kitchen. Dinah hadheard, from various sources, what was going on, and resolved to stand ondefensive and conservative ground,--mentally determined to oppose andignore every new measure, without any actual and observable contest.
The kitchen was a large, brick-floored apartment, with a greatold-fashioned fireplace stretching along one side of it,--an arrangementwhich St. Clair had vainly tried to persuade Dinah to exchange for theconvenience of a modern cook-stove. Not she. No Pusseyite, orconservative of any school, was ever more inflexibly attached totime-honored inconveniences than Dinah.
When St. Clair had first returned from the North, impressed with thesystem and order of his uncle's kitchen arrangements, he had largelyprovided his own with an array of cupboards, drawers, and variousapparatus, to induce systematic regulation, under the sanguine illusionthat it would be of any possible assistance to Dinah in herarrangements. He might as well have provided them for a squirrel or amagpie. The more drawers and closets there were, the more hiding-holescould Dinah make for the accommodation of old rags, hair-combs, oldshoes, ribbons, cast-off artificial flowers, and other articles of_vertu_, wherein her soul delighted.
When Miss Ophelia entered the kitchen, Dinah did not rise, but smoked onin sublime tranquillity, regarding her movements obliquely out of thecorner of her eye, but apparently intent only on the operations aroundher.
Miss Ophelia commenced opening a set of drawers.
"What is this drawer for, Dinah?" she said.
"It's handy for 'most anything, missis," said Dinah. So it appeared tobe. From the variety it contained Miss Ophelia pulled out first a finedamask table-cloth stained with blood, having evidently been used toenvelop some raw meat.
"What's this, Dinah? You don't wrap up meat in your mistress's besttable-cloth?"
"Oh, Lor', missis, no; the towels was all a-missin', so I just did it. Ilaid it out to wash that ar; that's why I put it thar."
"Shir'less!" said Miss Ophelia to herself, proceeding to tumble over thedrawer, where she found a nutmeg-grater and two or three nutmegs, aMethodist hymn-book, a couple of soiled Madras handkerchiefs, some yarnand knitting-work, a paper of tobacco and a pipe, a few crackers, one ortwo gilded china saucers with some pomade in them, one or two thin oldshoes, a piece of flannel carefully pinned up enclosing some small whiteonions, several damask table-napkins, some coarse crash towels, sometwine and darning-needles, and several broken papers, from which sundrysweet herbs were sifting into the drawer.
"Where do you keep your nutmegs, Dinah?" said Miss Ophelia, with the airof one who "prayed for patience."
"Most anywhar, missis; there's some in that cracked tea-cup up there,and there's some over in that ar cupboard."
"Here are some in the grater," said Miss Ophelia, holding them up.
"Laws, yes; I put 'em there this morning; I likes to keep my thingshandy," said Dinah. "You Jake! what are you stopping for? You'll cotchit! Be still, thar!" she added, with a dive of her stick at thecriminal.
"What's this?" said Miss Ophelia, holding up the saucer of pomade.
"Laws, it's my _har-grease_: I put it thar to have it handy."
"Do you use your mistress's best saucers for that?"
"Law! it was 'cause I was driv' and in sich a hurry. I was gwine tochange it this very day."
"Here are two damask table-napkins."
"Them table-napkins I put thar to get 'em washed out some day."
"Don't you have some place here on purpose for things to be washed?"
"Well, Mas'r St. Clair got dat ar chest, he said, for dat; but I likesto mix up biscuit and hev my things on it some days, and then it ain'thandy a-liftin' up the lid."
"Why don't you mix your biscuits on the pastry-table, there?"
"Law, missis, it gets sot so full of dishes, and one thing and another,der ain't no room, noways."
"But you should wash your dishes, and clear them away."
"Wash my dishes!" said Dinah, in a high key, as her wrath began to riseover her habitual respect of manner. "What does ladies know 'bout work,I want to know? When'd mas'r ever get his dinner, if I was to spend allmy time a-washin' and a-puttin' up dishes? Miss Marie never telled meso, nohow."
"Well, here are these onions."
"Laws, yes!" said Dinah; "that _is_ whar I put 'em, now. I couldn't'member. Them's particular onions I was a savin' for dis yer very stew.I'd forgot they was in dat ar old flannel."
Miss Ophelia lifted out the sifting papers of sweet herbs. "I wishmissis wouldn't touch dem ar. I likes to keep my things where I knowswhar to go to 'em," said Dinah, r
ather decidedly.
"But you don't want these holes in the papers."
"Them's handy for siftin' on't out," said Dinah.
"But you see it spills all over the drawer."
"Laws, yes! if missis will go a-tumblin' things all up so, it will.Missis has spilt lots dat ar way," said Dinah, coming uneasily to thedrawers. "If missis only will go up-sta'rs till my clarin'-up timecomes, I'll have everything right; but I can't do nothin' when ladies is'round a-henderin'. You Sam, don't you gib de baby dat ar sugar-bowl!I'll crack ye over, if ye don't mind!"
"I'm going through the kitchen, and going to put everything in order,_once_, Dinah; and then I'll expect you to _keep_ it so."
"Lor', now, Miss 'Phelia, dat ar ain't no way for ladies to do. I neverdid see ladies doin' no sich; my old missis nor Miss Marie never did,and I don't see no kinder need on't." And Dinah stalked indignantlyabout, while Miss Ophelia piled and sorted dishes, emptied dozens ofscattering bowls of sugar into one receptacle, sorted napkins,table-cloths, and towels, for washing; washing, wiping and arrangingwith her own hands, and with a speed and alacrity which perfectly amazedDinah.
"Lor', now! if dat ar de way dem Northern ladies do, dey ain't ladiesnohow," she said to some of her satellites, when at a safehearing-distance. "I has things as straight as anybody, when myclarin'-up times comes; but I don't want ladies 'round a-henderin' andgettin' my things all where I can't find 'em."
To do Dinah justice, she had, at irregular periods, paroxysms ofreformation and arrangement, which she called "clarin'-up times," whenshe would begin with great zeal and turn every drawer and closet wrongside outward on to the floor or tables, and make the ordinary confusionsevenfold more confounded. Then she would light her pipe and leisurelygo over her arrangements, looking things over and discoursing upon them;making all the young fry scour most vigorously on the tin things, andkeeping up for several hours a most energetic state of confusion, whichshe would explain to the satisfaction of all inquirers by the remarkthat she was a "clarin'-up." "She couldn't hev things a-gwine on so asthey had been, and she was gwine to make these yer young ones keepbetter order;" for Dinah herself, somehow, indulged the illusion thatshe herself was the soul of order, and it was only the _young uns_, andthe everybody else in the house, that were the cause of anything thatfell short of perfection in this respect. When all the tins werescoured, and the tables scrubbed snowy white, and everything that couldoffend tucked out of sight in holes and corners, Dinah would dressherself up in a smart dress, clean apron, and high, brilliant Madrasturban, and tell all marauding "young uns" to keep out of the kitchen,for she was gwine to have things kept nice. Indeed, these periodicseasons were often an inconvenience to the whole household, for Dinahwould contract such an immoderate attachment to her scoured tin as toinsist upon it that it shouldn't be used again for any possiblepurpose,--at least till the ardor of the "clarin'-up" period abated.