Difference between revisions of "The Young Lady CHAPTER 10."

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Time passed on, and Mrs. Merlin gradually acquired strength of mind and experience. A few of her old friends were brought back to her by Mrs. Hartley, and these encouraged and sustained her by their kind attentions and judicious advice. As a housekeeper, she had become quite proficient, and entered into the various duties appertaining to the charge of a family with cheerfulness, and even with a feeling of pride.

"I am really getting to be an adept in house-keeping," she said to her husband, one evening, after showing him, with an air of triumph, a row of half a dozen jars of preserved fruits which she had put up during the day. "I can make good bread," she added, laughing. — "I can roast a piece of meat, and make pies and puddings with anyone. And, more than all that, I can cut out and fit a dress, and make my own children's clothes, as well as anybody. I think I shall finish my education after awhile, even to Uncle Peter's satisfaction."

"And still," returned her husband with a smile, "you can sing and play in a leisure moment, as sweetly as ever. I am glad, that in your new found duties, you are not tempted to neglect these so far as to lose all taste for them. I have often felt afraid that Uncle Peter would drive you from one extreme to the other — that he would make you think a woman's duties lay no higher than the kitchen or nursery."

"I was in some danger of going over to this extreme, but Mrs. Hartley came just in time to save me. How beautifully does she act her part both at home and in the social circle. A thorough knowledge of every department of housekeeping, does not unfit her for the drawing-room. She can give directions at one moment for cooking a dinner, and in the next play you a song skillfully on the harp or piano. In the morning she will arrange her household, and let her influence and intelligence be felt in every department, and in the evening make the center of a circle of refined intelligence. She is indeed a perfect woman."

Just at that moment a loud cry of pain was heard from their oldest child, who had gone down into the kitchen a few minutes before. Mrs. Merlin sprung to her feet and hurried down the stairs, where she found that a kettle of boiling water had fallen over, and badly scalded one of the little girl's feet. She was crying in great agony.

"O dear! — what shall I do?" she exclaimed, looking, up at her husband who had followed her immediately, as she took the child upon her lap, and uncovered her red and blistered foot. The exposure of it to the air increased the pain, and caused the poor child to writhe and scream in agony!

"What is good for a burn?" asked Mr. Merlin in a good deal of agitation.

"I'm sure I don't know," replied his wife, "I have never been where anybody has been scalded before, Oh! I wish I knew what to do."

"Put it in cold water," Mr. Merlin suggested. "That will ease it, I know."

"Bring me a basin of cold water, quick!" the mother said to the pale, trembling servant.

"O no. Don't put it into cold water," replied the servant.

"Why not?"

"Oh, because I've often heard it said that it was bad to put a burn into cold water. It drives the fire in."

"Then what ought to be done Jane?"

"There are a great many things that are good for burns, but I can't think of one of them now," replied the bewildered servant, endeavoring to collect her scattered senses.

In the meantime, the child continued to shriek in agony, while all that Mrs. Merlin could do for her was to hold her to her bosom and weep bitterly.

"Think, Jane," Mr. Merlin said, in a calm, encouraging voice. "Did you ever see any one scalded before?"

"O yes, sir. Mr. Gray's little boy was scalded dreadfully once."

"What did they do for him?"

"They bound the place up in soot and hog's lard," replied Jane, in a natural tone — the means applied coming into her recollection with the incident.

"Did it do him good?"

"O yes. He was easy in five minutes, and the scald never raised a blister."

"Quick, then, get some lard, and I will get the soot," replied Mr. Merlin.

In about two minutes, the foot of the little girl was carefully enveloped in soot and lard. Five minutes after, she was asleep upon her mother's bosom.

"Ignorant! — still ignorant of my duties," said Mrs. Merlin, despondingly, as she laid the little sleeper upon a bed. "Full ten minutes of excruciating pain I might have saved our little darling, if I had treasured up in my mind, as highly important knowledge for a mother, such seemingly little things as domestic remedies in cases of accidents or sudden sickness among children."

"Do not be discouraged. Experience is, after all, the only sure teacher," Mr. Merlin said, kindly.

"It will be my only sure teacher. Of that I cannot doubt. But will I ever be thoroughly furnished — will I ever be ready at all points when the duty is presented, or the trial comes? Alas! I fear not."

"Do not despond, dear Cecilia! You have done much, and have now everything to hope."

But it seemed as if there was to be no end to circumstances convicting her of a lack of information on useful and highly important subjects, all appertaining to her duties as a wife and mother. Her youngest child had attained his second birthday, and was a fine hearty boy, who had scarcely known a day's sickness. His cheeks were unusually flushed one night, as she put him to bed, and he seemed to be somewhat oppressed in breathing. Her heart was troubled, she knew not why, as she kissed his fair forehead, and then drew the bed-clothes closely around him. About midnight she and her husband were awakened by the loud, suffocating respiration of their child, which was accompanied, occasionally, by a single hoarse, resounding cough. He appeared to be in great distress, throwing his head back, and crying out in his struggle to get breath. It seemed that he could not live unless immediate relief were obtained.

"What can be the matter with him?" Mrs. Merlin exclaimed, springing up from her bed, and lifting little George from his crib.

"We must have a doctor immediately!" said her husband, as soon as he became fully conscious of the alarming condition of his child. "Did you ever see a child with croup, Cecilia?" he added.

"No, but from what I have heard of that dreadful disease, I fear George has it."

"Then do you not know something that ought to be done immediately? Are there not certain domestic remedies, which are always resorted to by way of alleviation, until a physician can be obtained? I think I have heard that there are."

"I am sure I do not know," Mrs. Merlin said, slowly and thoughtfully.

"Wouldn't a hot bath be good for him?" inquired the husband.

"Indeed, I do not know."

"Suppose you try it."

"I'm afraid that it would be wrong," the mother replied, anxiously. "I would rather not do anything until the doctor sees him."

Mr. Merlin hurried away for a physician, while Mrs. Merlin sat holding the almost suffocated child, her heart oppressed with fear, and the tears streaming from her eyes, awaiting the arrival of medical aid. Thus she sat for nearly an hour, little George growing worse every moment, at the end of which time her husband returned. He found the little sufferer panting upon the lap of his wife, evidently near his end from suffocation. His breath came and went with a shrill whistling noise, and at every inhalation there was a clashing sound, and a struggle, as if the epiglottis had closed tightly over the avenue to the windpipe.

"Where the doctor?" asked the mother, with eagerness and alarm, as her husband entered.

"I have been to the residences of four physicians, and all were out," was the reply.

"O mercy! my child will die! — my child will die!" ejaculated Mrs. Merlin, in an agony of parental fear.

"Cannot we do something?" asked her husband. "Surely we might find some means of relief!"

"I have thought, and thought, but I know of nothing that would relieve him," was the desponding reply.

"Perhaps Jane knows of something," suggested Mr. Merlin,

"How would Jane know, Theodore? She has had no experience with children."

"But she has lived in many families, and has no doubt seen children with the croup, if that is what ails George. Remember the scalded foot."

"Then go and call her quickly," the mother said, catching at the feeble hope.

Jane was accordingly called up. As soon as she saw the little sufferer, she exclaimed —

"O dear, ma'am, he has got the croup!"

"What shall we do for him, Jane?" asked Mrs. Merlin, looking up eagerly into the face of her servant.

"Put him into a warm bath at once, ma'am. I'll get some water ready in a little while — and give some tartar emetic to vomit him."

Mr. and Mrs. Merlin looked at each other.

"Are you sure, Jane?" Mr. Merlin asked.

"O yes, sir, I've seen the croup a good many times. But we must be quick, for he is very bad, and cannot live long unless he gets better.

Jane then hurried off into the kitchen to kindle a fire, while Mr. Merlin went out to a druggist's to get the emetic. As he was about closing the street door, Jane called to him to get some Scotch snuff, if it were possible at that hour of the night.

The water was nearly hot when Mr. Merlin returned. He had been detained some time in ringing up the druggist, and afterwards in getting up a tobacconist. In a short time they had the little sufferer immersed in the bath, and then gave the emetic, which the druggist had said was very proper. It soon produced the desired effect, and George breathed much freer. With the snuff and some sweet oil, Jane prepared a plaster, which was spread over the bosom and throat of the child. In fifteen minutes afterwards, the hearts of all were relieved to find him sinking away into a gentle slumber.

In the morning a physician came very early, and pronounced what had been done to be right, in the emergency. In the course of two or three days, little George was playing about the room, as lively as ever. But, he would almost inevitably have died, had not Jane possessed superior knowledge in sickness to Mrs. Merlin. And this the latter felt, and likewise felt pained and humbled to think how near her child had been to death through her ignorance of her duty as a mother.

"How much I have yet to learn," she remarked to her husband on the day that her child was pronounced by the physician to be out of danger.

"Like yourself, Cecilia, I perceive almost every day my ignorance on many points of useful knowledge. I am making the discovery that we are never to cease learning."

"But, how much time and attention we have wasted in early life, in acquiring that which may never be brought into use — while of truly practical information we are strangely deficient."

"That is, indeed, a sad truth, Cecilia. But we must only let the time past suffice for us to have wasted our time in vain pursuits, or idle worship at the shrine of pleasure. It is not yet too late to learn, as the past year's experience has fully proved to you."

"No, it is not. But at what point to begin, I hardly know, I perceive my deficiencies to be so many." Then after a pause — "How surprised I sometimes feel, in looking back, to think how perfectly self-satisfied I was in leaving school, under the idea that my education was finished. I really thought that there was nothing left for me to learn, that any young lady could have use for. Since then, in almost every case where action has been required of me, I have been deficient. I could not at first give a servant the plainest directions for cooking. In sickness, how perfectly helpless have I shown myself?'

"But you have learned much, Cecilia. Indeed, I think you quite an apt scholar. And you are really happier than you were, notwithstanding the great change in our worldly circumstances."

"Yes, I certainly am. I feel a confidence in myself that I had not before; and a consciousness that I am discharging, daily, my duty to my husband and children. This is a source of no ordinary pleasure."

"But you are often fatigued, and, I can see at times, worn down with care and labor. How much it pains me to think that I cannot save you from toils that are far beyond your strength."

There were in the tones of her husband, a tenderness and concern which touched the feelings of Mrs. Merlin.

"Do not feel concern for me, dear husband!" she replied, "Have I not just said, that with all the changes that have come upon us, I am really happier than I ever was before? There lie deep in our affections — springs of pure, unselfish enjoyment, which only the hand of affliction can unseal."

"And do you not regret the reverses that we have experienced?"

"O no! Should I not rather thank God for them? Have they not been mercies in disguise? I never truly loved my children, until the care of them all devolved upon me. Their innocent delights affected me not, and I soon wearied of their presence, for I was really too selfish to be willing to bear their eager questionings, and happy restlessness. But now, in my purer love for them, how patiently can I listen to a thousand questions, and how much delight I can find in directing their young and curious minds."

Mr. Merlin's heart seemed to grow larger in his bosom, and to glow with a warmer love, as he listened to his wife, and looked upon her countenance — lit up with a new beauty. His own thoughts were elevated, and he could not lifting his heart and blessing the Divine Hand which has chastened them.