A LESSON IN PATIENCE

New Zealand Tablet, 12 August 1915, Page 9

A LESSON IN PATIENCE

; I was very unhappy, from a variety of causes, definable and undefinabie. My chambermaid had been cross 1 ' for a week, and, by talking to my cook, had made her dissatisfied with her place. * „- ■ The mother of five little children, I felt that 1 had a weight of care and responsibility greater than I could support. I was unequal to the task. My spirits fell "under its bare contemplation. Then I had been disappointed in a seamstress, and my children were, as the saying is,' in rags.' While brooding over these and other disheartening circumstances, Netty, my chambermaid, opened the door of the room where 1 was sitting (it was Monday morning), and said: ' Harriet has just sent word that she is sick, and can't come to-day.' " Then you and Agues, will have to do the washing,' . I replied, in fretful voice: this new source of trouble completely breaking mc down. ' Indeed, ma'am,' replied Netty, tossing her head and speaking with some pertness, ' I can't do the washing. I didn't engage for anything but chambcrwork.' When my husband came home at dinner time, things did not seem very pleasant for him, 1 must own. T had on a long, a very long face—much longer than it was when lie went away in the morning. 'What is the great trouble now, Jane?' said my husband, without being at all fretted with my unamiable temper. ' Let us hear. Perhaps 1 can suggest a remedy.' ' If you will get me a washerwoman, you will exceedingly oblige me," said I. ' Where is Harriet ?' he asked. ' She is sick, or pretends to be. 1 don't know which.' ' Perhaps she will be well enough to do your washing to-morrow,' suggested my husband. Perhaps is a poor dependence'.' ' Can't von get some one else to do your washing thi i week V I made no reply. The question was easily asked. After that my husband was silent -silent in that peculiar way that I understood, too well, as the effectof my words, or tones, or state of mind. Here was another cause for unhappiness, in the reflection that 1 had disturbed my husband's peace. After mv husband went away on finishing his dinner, I went to bed. and cried for more than half the afternoon. Oh! how wretched 1 felt! Life seemed an almost intolerable burden. Then my mind seemed more composed, and 1 tried to think about what was to be done. The necessity for having clothes washed was absolute : and this roused me, at length, as the most pressing domestic duty, into thinking so earnestly, that I presently rang the bell for Netty, who came in her own good time. Tell Agnes that I want to see her,' said I, not in a very good natured way. The effect was that Netty left the chamber withoutreplying, and slammed the door hard after her, which mark of disrespect set my blood to boiling. In a little while my cook made her appearance. ' Agnes,' said I, ' do you know of any one that I can engage to do the washing this week V ' There's a poor woman who lives near my mother's. I think she goes out to wash sometimes.' 'I wish you would step round and see if she can't come here to-morrow.' Agnes said that she would do so. ' Tell her she must come,' said I. Agnes withdrew. In an hour she came back, and said that she had seen the woman, who promised to come. The name of this woman was Mrs. Partridge. It was some relief to think I was going to get my washing done ; but the idea of having the ironing about all the week fretted my mind. And no sooner was this leading trouble set aside, than I began to worry about the children's clothes, and the prospect of losing my cook, who had managed my kitchen more to my satisfaction than any one had ever done before.

In the morning Mrs. Partridge came early ; and commenced the washing. There was something in this woman's-appearance that interested me, and something in her face that reminded me of somebody T; had seen before; but when and where I could not tell. Although her clothes were poor and faded, there was nothing common about her/ and she struck me as being superior to her class. Several times during the morning I had to go into the kitchen where she was at work, and each time her appearance impressed me more and more. An emotion of pity arose in my bosom, as I saw her bending over the washing tub, and remembered that, for this hard labor during the whole day she was to get" but 75 cents. While in Tier presence 1 felt rebuked for my complaining spirit. At dinner Mrs. Partridge came to my room, and with a gentle, patient smile on her face, said : ' If you have no objections, ma'am, I would like to run home for a few minutes to nurse my baby and Hive the children something to eat. I'll make up the time.' 'Go by all means,' I replied, ' with an effort to speak. calmly. The woman turned and went quickly away. ' Run home to nurse the baby and give the children something to eat !' The words went through and through me. So unexpected a request, revealing, as it. did, the existence of such biting poverty in one who was evidently bearing her hard lot without a murmur, made me feel ashamed of myself for complaining" at things which I ought to have borne with a cheerful spirit. I had a comfortable, in fact a luxurious, home, a kind and provident husband, and servants to do everything in my house. "' It is wicked in me to. feel as I do,' I could not help saying, as I made an effort to turn away from the picture that was before me. When Mrs. Partridge came back, which was in about half an hour, I said to her—• ' Did you find all safe at home V ' Yes," ma'am, thank you,' she answered cheerfully. • flow old is your baby V 'Eleven months old, ma'am.' • Is your husband living V ' No, ma'am ; he died more than a year ago.' ■' TTow many children have you?' ' Four.' ' All young P 1 Yes. ma'am. The oldest is only in her tenth year, but she is a good little girl, and takes care of the baby for me almost as well as a grown person. - I don't know what I would do without her.' ' But are you not afraid to leave them all at home alone, for so long a time'?' ' No, ma'am. Jane takes excellent care of them, and she is so kind that they will obey her as well as they do me. lam certainly "blessed in having so good a child.' ' And only in her tenth year!' said I—the image of my Alice coming before my mind, with the thought of the little use she would be as a nurse and caretaker of her younger brothers and sisters. _ But how in the world, Mrs. Partridge,' said I, ' do you manage to provide for four children, and do for them at the same time?' ' I find it hard work,' she replied : ' and sometimes I feel discouraged for a little while ; butsby patience and perseverance I manage to get along.' Mrs. Partridge went to her washing, and I sat down in my comfortable room, having a servant in every department of my family, and ample means for the supply of every comfort and "luxury I could reasonably desire. ' If she can get along by patience and perseverance/ said I to myself, 'it's a shame for me that I can't.' It was not lo'ng before Netty came into my room, saying, as she did so —- ' Mrs. Smith, what frock shall I put on Alice?' ' The one with a blue sprig,' I replied, ■* That's in the wash,' was answered."'

--; 'ln the wash!' said I, 'in a fretful tone. 'How came it in the wash?' ""~ u '"':''"'".' '..£ .. « .

' It was dirty.' ' No, it wasn't any such thing. It would have done very well for her to put on as a change to-day and to-morrow.' ' Well, ma'am, it's,in the wash, and no help for it now,' said Netty, quite pertly. I was dreadfully provoked"-with her, and had it on my tongue to order her to leave my presence instantly. But I choked down my rising "indignation. ' Take the red and white one, then,' said I. ' The sleeve's nearly torn off of that. There isn't any one that she can wear except her white muslin.' 'Oh dear ! It's too bad! What shall I do? The children are all in rags and tatters!' And in this style I fretted away for three or four minutes, while Netty -stood waiting for my decision as to what Alice was to wear. ' Shall she put on the white muslin?' she at length asked. No, indeed! Certainly not! A pretty condition she'd have it in before night! Go and get me the red and white frock, and I will mend it. You ought to have told me it was torn this morning. You knew there was nothing for the child to put on but this. I never saw such a set as you are !' Netty flitted away, grumbling to herself. When she came in, she threw the frock into my lap with a manner so insolent and provoking that I could hardly keep from breaking out upon her and rating her soundly. One thing that helped to restrain me was the recollection of sundry ebullitions of a like nature that had neither produced good effects nor left my mind in a state of much self-respect or tranquillity. I repaired the torn sleeve, while Netty stood by. It was the work of but five minutes. 'Be sure,' said I, as I handed the garment to Netty, 'to see that one of Alice's frocks is ironed the first thing to-morrow morning.' The girl heard, of course, but she made no answer. That was rather more of a condescension than she was willing to make just then. Instead of thinking how easily the difficulty of the clean frock for Alice had been gotten over, I began fretting myself because 1 had not been able to procure a seamstress, although the children were 'all in rags and fattens.' What is to be done?' I said, half crying, as I began to rock myself backward and forward in the great rocking-chair. 'I am out of all Heart.' So, after worrying for a whole hour about what I should do, and where I should begin, I. abandoned the idea of attempting anything myself, in despair, and concluded the perplexing debate by taking another hearty crying spell. The dusky twilight had begun to fall, and I was still sitting idly in my chamber, and as unhappy as I could be. 1 felt completely discouraged. How was I to get along? 1 had been trying for weeks, in vain, to get a good seamstress; and yet had no prospect of obtaining one. I was going to lose my cook, and, in all probability, my chambermaid. What would I do? No light broke in through the cloudy veil that overhung my mind. The door opened, and Agnes, who had come up to my room, said—- ' Mrs. Partridge is done.' I took out my purse, and had selected therefrom the change necessary to pay the washerwoman, when a thought of her caused me to say —■ ' Tell Mrs. Partridge to come up and see me.' My thoughts and feelings were changing. By the time the washerwoman came in, my interest in her was alive again. ' Sit down,' said I, to the tired-looking creature who sank into a chair, evidently much wearied.' ■ Yes, ma'am, it is rather hard. But lam thankful for health and strength to enable me to go through with it. I know some poor wpmen who have to work as hard as I do, and yet do not know what it is to feel well for an hour at a time.'

._./-; ' Poor creatures ! ? said I. 'lt is very hard ! * How in the world can they do it?' ' .:--;.:; ' We can do a great deal, ma'am, 'when it comes to the pinch; and it is much pleasanter to do, I find, than to think- about it. If I were to think much I should give up in despair. But I pray the Lord each morning to give me my daily bread, and thus far He has done "it, and will, 1 am sure, continue to 'do it to the end".' 'Happy it is for you that you can so think and feel,' I replied. ' But Lam sure I could not be as you are, Mrs. Partridge. It would kill me.' ' I sincerely trust, ma'am that you will never be called to pass through what I have,' said Mrs. Partridge. ' And yet there are those who have it still harder. There was a time when the thought of being as poor as I now am, and of having to work so hard, would have been terrible to me;, and yet I do not know that I was so very much happier then than I am now, though I confess I ought to have been. I had full and plenty of everything brought into the house by my husband, and had only to dispense in my family the blessings of God sent to, us. But I let things annoy me then more than they do now.' ' But how can you help being worried, Mrs. Partridge? To be away from my children as you have been away from yours all day would set me wild. I would be sure sonic of them would be killed or dreadfully hurt.' 'Children arc wonderfully protected,' said. Mrs. Partridge, in a confident voice. 'So they are. But to think of four little children, the youngest eleven months and the oldest not ten years old, left all alone, for a whole day!' 'lt is bad when we think about it, 1 know,' returned Mrs. Partridge. 'lt looks very bad! But, I try and put that view of if. out of my mind. When I leave them in the morning .they say they will be good children. At dinner time I sometimes find them all fast asleep or playing about. I never find them crying, or at all unhappy, Jane loves the younger ones, and keeps (hem pleased all the time. In the evening, when T get back from my work, there is generally no one awake but Jane. She has given them, the bread and milk 1 left for their suppers, and undressed and put them to bed.' 1 handed her the seventy-five cents she had earned for washing for me during a. whole day. Promising to come over and see me early in the morning about the sewing, she withdrew, and 1 was left again to my own reflections. ' If ever n murmurer and complainer received ' a severe rebuke, it is .1 !' was the first almost audible thought that passed through my mind. 'To think that 1. with my cup full and running over with blessings, should make myself and all around me unhappy, because a few minor things are not just to my satisfaction, while this woman, who toils like a slave from morning until night, and who can hardly procure food and clothing for Iter children, from whom she is almost constantly separated, is patient and hopeful, makes me feel as if I deserved to lose what I have refused to enjoy.' _ .'."". Whenever T find myself falling into my old habit, which I am sorry to say is too frequently the case, I turn my thoughts to this poor woman, who is stijl toiling on under heavy life-burdens, yet with meekness and patience, and bowing my head in shame, say—■ ' If she is thankful for the good she has, how deep should be my gratitude!'