The Life and Beauties of Fanny Fern Part 20

LXVI.

MRS. SMITH'S REVERIE, WRITTEN OUT BY f.a.n.n.y FERN.

"'All dissimulation is disloyality to love.'

"'I've _thought_ so before,' said Mrs. Smith; 'but now I _know_ it, _because I read it in the newspapers_. These editors beat the D--utch for understanding human nature, (all except female nature;) _there_ they are decidedly benighted. However, it isn't for my interest to throw any light on _that_ subject; it is an interesting study that I shan't interfere with. But this is a digression. As I was saying, 'dissimulation is disloyalty to love.' Didn't Mr. Smith tell me, when he asked me, on his knees, to make him the happiest of men, that I was the only daughter of Eve he ever fancied; and didn't I, before the honey-moon was over, find in his old bachelor trunk, locks of hair of every color the sun ever shone upon? And doesn't it do me good to put my matrimonial foot on the cricket that I stuffed with them?

Certainly--I only wish I had their entire scalps!

"Well--didn't he come home one Sunday, with a face as long as an orthodox steeple, and give me 'the text and heads of the discourse,'

when he had been off rolling ninepins all the morning? And didn't I always know, when he kissed me, or gave me a twenty dollar bill, (which was much more acceptable!) that it was the premonitory symptom of a desperate flirtation with somebody? and wasn't I sure, when that buff vest, and blue coat with bright bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, went on, that there was immense execution to be done somewhere on forbidden ground?

"Well--'Life is short;' so is Mr. Smith. No help for either, that I know of! I'm too busy, amusing myself, to attend to his little derelictions. If there's anything that I ignore it is curiosity. It is so decidedly a _masculine failing_ that I scorn to be guilty of it!"

LXVII.

A NIGHT-WATCH WITH A DEAD INFANT.

"Moorest thou thy bark so soon, little voyager? Through those infant eyes, with a prophet's vision, sawest thou life's great battle-field, swarming with fierce combatants? Fell upon thy timid ear the far-off din of its angry strife? Drooped thy head wearily on the bosom of the Sinless, _fearful of earthly taint_? Fluttered thy wings impatiently 'gainst the bars of thy prison-house, sweet bird of Paradise?

"G.o.d speed thy flight! No unerring sportsman shall have power to ruffle thy spread pinions, or maim thy soaring wing. No sheltering nest had earth for thee, where the chill wind of sorrow might not blow! No garden of Eden, where the serpent lay not coiled beneath the flowers! No 'Tree of Life,' whose branches might have sheltered thee for aye!

"Warm fall the sunlight on thy gra.s.sy pillow, sweet human blossom!

Softly fall the night dews on the blue-eyed violet above thee! Side by side with thee are hearts that have long since ceased hoping or aching. There lies the betrothed maiden, in her unappropriated loveliness; the bride, with her head pillowed on golden tresses, whose rare beauty, even the Great Spoiler seemed loth to touch; childhood, but yesterday warm and rosy on its mother's breast; the loving wife and mother, in life's sweet prime; the gray-haired pastor, gone to his reward; the youth of crisped locks and brow unfurrowed by care; the heartbroken widow, and tearful orphan, all await with folded hands, closed eyes, and silent lips, alike with thee, the resurrection morn."

LXVIII.

A LITTLE GOOD ADVICE.--FROM f.a.n.n.y FERN.

"'No person should be delicate about asking for what is properly his due. If he neglects doing so, he is deficient in that spirit of independence which he should observe in all his actions. Rights are rights, and, if not granted, should be demanded.'

"A _little_ 'Bunker Hill' atmosphere about that! It suits my republicanism; but I hope no female sister will be such a novice as to suppose it refers to any but _masculine_ rights. In the first place, my dear woman, 'female rights' is debateable ground; what you may call a 'vexed question.' In the next place, (just put your ear down, a _little_ nearer) granted we _had_ 'rights,' the more we 'demand' 'em, the _more we shan't get 'em_. I've been converted to that faith this some time. No sort of use to waste lungs and leather trotting to SIGH-racuse about it. The instant the subject is mentioned, the lords of creation are up and dressed. Guns and bayonets the order of the day; _no surrender_ on every flag that floats! The only way left is to pursue the 'Uriah Heep' policy; look _umble_, and be almighty cunning.

Bait 'em with submission, and then throw the noose over the will.

Appear not to have any choice, and as true as gospel you'll get it.

Ask _their_ advice, and they'll be sure to follow _yours_. Look _one_ way, and _pull another_! Make your reins of silk, _keep 'em out of sight, and drive where you like_!"

LXIX.

THE OTHER ONE.

Somebody rather ambiguously remarks:--"Let cynics prattle as they may, our existence here, without the presence of the other s.e.x, would be only a dark and cheerless void."

f.a.n.n.y inquires, in reply:--"_Which_ 'other s.e.x?' Don't be so obscure.

Dr. Beecher says, 'that a writer's ideas should stand out like rabbit's ears, so that the reader can get hold of them.' If you alluded to the female s.e.x, I don't subscribe to it. I wish they were all 'translated.' If there is anything gives me the sensations of a landsman on his first sea voyage, it is the sight of a bonnet. Think of female friendship! Two women joining the Mutual Admiration Society; emptying their budget of love affairs; comparing bait to entrap victims, sighing over the same rose leaf; sonnetizing the same moonbeam; patronizing the same milliner, and _exchanging female kisses_! (Betty, hand me my fan!)

"Well, let either have one bonnet or one lover more than the other--or, if they are blue stockings, let either be one round the higher on Fame's ladder--bodkins and darning-needles! what a tempest!

Caps and characters in such a case are of no account at all. Oh, there never should be but one woman alive at a time. Then the fighting would be all where it belongs--in the masculine camp. What a time there'd be, though! Wouldn't she be a belle? Bless her little soul; how she would queen it. It makes me clap my hands to think of it. _The only woman in the world!_ If it was me, shouldn't they all leave off smoking, and wearing those odious plaid continuations? Should they ever wear an outside coat, with the flaps cut off, or a Kossuth hat, or a yellow Ma.r.s.eilles vest? or a mammoth bow on their neck-ties; or a turnover d.i.c.key; or a watch-chain; or a ring on the little finger; or any other abomination or off-shoot of dandyism whatsoever? Shouldn't I politely request them all to touch their hats, instead of jerking their heads, when they bowed? Wouldn't I coax them to read me poetry till they had the bronchitis? Wouldn't they play on the flute, and sing the soul out of me? And then if they were sick, wouldn't I pet them, and tell them all sorts of comicalities, and make time fly like the mischief? Shouldn't wonder!"

LXX.

A PEN AND INK SKETCH.--BY f.a.n.n.y FERN.

"Do you suppose Diogenes d.i.n.key would know his own portrait, if I drew it? It won't hurt me if he does, so long as it is a disputed point 'whether _I be I_.' Well, his proportions were decidedly alderman-ic, and his gait strongly resembled that of the wooden horses one sees jerked across the stage at the theat--I mean the museum! Such a stiff d.i.c.key as he wore! What prevented his ears from being sawed off by it, was beyond me.

"Diogenes was a saint and an epicure; divided his affections equally between veal pies and vestry meetings; in fact the former depended on his proper observance of the latter, as he was supported by sixpenny contributions from humbugged brethren who considered him a celestial luminary. Of course he made his appearance simultaneously with the s.e.xton, and kept popping up and down, in service time, like one of those corn-stalk witches, that country children play with. There was no 'napkin' big enough to hide his 'talent;' he endorsed everything the minister said; not mentioning what the deacons got off, and after that he put the audience to sleep by chasing round some idea of his own, till he lost it; and then he sat down. You didn't catch him raising any vexed questions about 'dipping,' or 'sprinkling,' or 'high church,' or 'low church,' not he! he had a real millennial disposition; never raised any theological fences he couldn't crawl under, or climb over, to pick up windfall sixpences to swell his salary for the benefit of his fellow-creatures in general and _himself in particular_. He didn't care a torn hymn-book, whether it was a Baptist, or Episcopalian, or Unitarian hand he shook, as long as it left a bonus in his saintly palm.

"Poor Diogenes! he was affected with spasmodic near-sightedness, that always attacked him when he saw a Paul Pry in the distance who might hold him by the b.u.t.ton long enough to desire statistics of the amount of good he had performed. He liked to be inquisitorial himself; but, like most persons of that description, he was not particular to have the compliment returned. He had a voluminous robe of dignity he threw on, at times, when escape was impossible, that was very excrutiating to anybody who knew what was underneath it.

"Long life to you, Diogenes! I wouldn't lose you for a bright sixpence.

"I've attended many a conventicle where you were the chief attraction; you are a perfect study to

f.a.n.n.y FERN."

LXXI.

f.a.n.n.y'S "RULES FOR LADIES."

"Never walk on the Common; it is 'vulgar;' dusty streets and a chorus of rattling omnibusses are more refined. Never go out in damp, cloudy or rainy weather. India rubbers and umbrellas are only fit for common people. Should it storm six weeks on a stretch, better ruin your health, than appear in anything but paper soles and silk dresses. When the chill autumn winds blow, go out in drapery sleeves, that the wind may have a free pa.s.s round your elbows. Don't disarrange your curls by bowing to an elderly person; nor by any manner of means recognize a male or female who is not a walking advertis.e.m.e.nt for a tailor or a milliner.

"Always whisper and laugh at concerts, by way of compliment to the performers, and to show your neighbors a sovereign contempt for their comfort. When Betty is brushing your hair, or lacing your boots, listen with avidity to all the gossip she can muster; it will encourage her laudable desire to take notes of _your_ establishment for the benefit of her next mistress. Always keep _callers_ waiting, till they have had time to notice the outlay of money in your parlors.

It isn't a bad plan to send a _child_ into the room to act as 'special reporter!' Always take physic on _Sunday_, and have a novel handy; or, you can write or read love-letters. Never on any account go into your kitchen, or know the difference between the manufacture of an omelet or an apple-pie. Call into your nursery once a week to see if Tommy's hair has begun to curl. Keep Betty till one o'clock at night, sitting up for your return; and order her to get up at four o'clock in the morning. Keep as many flirtations on hand as you conveniently can, without getting into a snarl.

"Be just as gracious in your manner to a practised _roue_, (provided he has the entrance into good society,) as you would to a man deserving a woman's respect. Dispute with your sempstress about a ninepence, and buy a thousand dollar shawl. Present the bouquet your _last_ admirer sent you, to the next one who looks into your 'starry eyes!' Dance all night, sleep all day, and waltz with anybody who is the '_ton_.'"