Chapter IV: Part I: Motherly Talks with Young Housekeepers (1)

I.

SYSTEM IN WORK.

“I HAVE been hard at work all day,” we think we hear some say; “up stairs and down, from the cellar to the attic, looking into every nook and corner, and ‘putting things to rights’ generally. O dear! I _wonder what next_ those grim old housekeepers would expect me to take hold of. I have everything in good running order, as far as I can see, and now how I would like to take a book and curl up somewhere, out of sight and hearing, and have one of the old-fashioned good times I used to have before I was married. Well, I don’t care. I mean to have it, anyhow, and just let things go on without my watching, for a while. Nora can manage to keep the house in order, _somehow_, now I have everything in its right place, I am sure.”

Ah! but, my dear little woman, if you do not give daily attention to your household affairs, in a few days, under Nora’s rule, you will find the machinery all out of order, and be compelled again to go over the same wearisome labor you now complain of.

“What then am I to do? From this time on, is my life to be a perpetual drudgery?”

No; not if you are wise. Be patient. It is a new thing to you now. Care does not sit lightly on young shoulders; but time and a reasonable amount of patience will soon make the “crooked ways straight, and the rough places smooth.” A few weeks of extra time and thought, at the beginning of your new life, will teach you how to work methodically. Until this lesson is fixed in your mind, it will be “uphill work”; but persevere. Have a regular plan for each day’s work, and every step will be easier and more natural.

There is nothing like method and regularity to lighten labor. We have so many poor, discouraged, repining housekeepers, chiefly because they were not taught from the beginning to work methodically. Let this once become a fixed habit, and almost every one can find leisure for reading and recreation, certainly if in a position where they can delegate the hardest, roughest labor, under suitable supervision, to a servant.

Secure a few moments every evening to think over and arrange for the necessary labor of the morrow. Bring before your mind just what ought to be done, and fix the mode and time for doing it distinctly. While dressing, the next morning, review your plan, that all through the day it may be like a map spread out before your eyes. Of course, many things may occur that no foresight could provide for,--sickness, unexpected company, or interruptions past your control,--but nothing that can wholly derange a well-digested plan for every day’s duties.

Try this mode of working resolutely for a few months, and labor or oversight of labor will become so nearly a second nature that you will arrange, or perform almost instinctively, even with pleasure, that which now seems a heavy burden, grievous to be borne. To show just what may be done, let us take a glance at the arrangements for washing and ironing days.

Every housekeeper has her own way of apportioning the work of her servants. Where there are three girls, many prefer that the cook should take charge of the washing, leaving either waiter or chambermaid to do the cooking Mondays and Tuesdays. If these are tolerable plain cooks, this may answer; but, generally, on those two days the table is less pleasantly served than during the remainder of the week.

Now, we prefer to feel as sure of a well-cooked and well-served dinner on “washing-day” as on any other day in the week. For that reason, we think it a more excellent way to have the cook understand that the kitchen, pantries, and cooking are her own especial care; from which, until that work is done, she is not to be called to assist in anything else. This plan, we think, insures a more orderly kitchen, cleaner pantries, and better prepared and more regular meals, than when the cooking is given over, two days in the week, to one less accustomed to it. We see no good reason why, if company happens in unexpectedly, one should not be as well prepared to serve them on Monday as on Wednesday or Thursday. By giving the washing into the care of the second girl, we think one may escape most of the terrors of “washing-day.”

Early rising should be one of the well-understood rules of the house, for the servants at least. As soon as up, on Monday morning, the laundress’s first work is to light the fire, if the laundry is separate from the kitchen; if not, the cook, of course, attends to that. The furnace is then to be well shaken and cleaned out, fresh coal added, and the ashes sifted and removed; which, if done every day, as it should be, is but a small item comparatively. Sweeping the front stairs, hall, doorsteps, sidewalk, and gutters comes next in order. By this time the fire and water will be in a proper state to commence washing; and that once begun, the laundress should be exempt from any other duty, save to feed the furnace, until the washing is finished and the clothes brought in and folded.

On Tuesday the same routine, while the fire is kindling and the irons heating; after that the laundress gives her undivided attention to her ironing. She should be up in season to finish sweeping stairs, hall, etc., and commence her washing and ironing by seven; and then, unless the washing is very large, an ordinarily bright girl should have all finished by Tuesday night, and be ready to give her full time to the chamber-work,--making beds, sweeping, dusting, washing windows, etc., during the remainder of the week.

The waitress is often expected to take charge of the furnace, but we cannot think it is desirable. If there is a fire to be lighted in the parlor or sitting-room, to remove the ashes, wash the hearth, and have the rooms dusted and in readiness for the family, and then put her table in order, is all that she will be likely to do well. Besides, after working in the cellar over the furnace, she cannot be fit to wait on the table without taking more time to free her hair and dress from ashes and dirt than she can spare, if you would have the breakfast served promptly. And what is more disgusting than an untidy waitress? The waitress should have charge of parlor, dining-room, silver, answering the bell, and on Monday and Tuesday do the chamber-work.

Where but two servants are kept,--and we are inclined to think the fewer servants the better the work is done,--of course the two must divide the work, each assisting in the washing and ironing, but the cook still retaining the charge of the meals.

II.

MARCH.

THE morning sun shines brightly, the air is mild and balmy; you go about your early cares with a cheerful spirit; and, after seeing that the “pickings up,” the brushing and dusting, which are a daily necessity, are faithfully performed, you sit down to your sewing, your books, or your writing in a satisfied and comfortable state of mind. But in a few hours the sky grows dark; grim and threatening clouds obscure the sun; the wind sweeps round the house with long, wailing moans, or short, fierce gusts, while you shiveringly draw the warm breakfast shawl closer about you, and find that you have suddenly passed into a far less genial atmosphere than you enjoyed in the morning.

March may come in a very mild and gentle manner, but don’t trust it. It is “fooling you.” Its smiles are quickly followed by frowns, and the bright, warm sunlight all too soon will be forced to give place to fierce winds and drifting snows. We are quite as well pleased when this, the first month of spring, appears in its own proper character,--windy, stormy, and bitter cold,--for then we hope that it will make its exit in a gentler mood.

Yes, this is truly _March_,--cold, raw, and blustering March,--which, with the early days of April, before the winds have fairly died out, is the terror of all careful housekeepers,--insuring an abundance of extra work; for its winds and storms will force an entrance into every part of the house, however securely guarded. No burglar’s alarm can promise safety from this insidious foe. Windows, pictures, and furniture, so nicely cleaned and polished but a few hours since, require a repetition of the same work many times a day. No month in the whole year demands such incessant use of dusters, brushes, and brooms,--such unslumbering watchfulness.

Why not clean once a day and then let the dust be till next morning?

Because, if allowed to remain, it soils your hands and dresses, spoils your pictures, finds lodgment in your finely carved statuary, or settles in the graceful designs or rich upholstery of your furniture. Once snugly secreted in woollen or plush, dust is not easily removed, but becomes the favorite resort for moths, affording abundant material for all their wants. There is no month in the whole year which so completely makes you the slave of the broom and dusting-brush. If there is a carpenter ingenious enough to build a house so tight that it can defy the searching winds of March, he would most certainly be a universal favorite among all housekeepers. Under the doors, from the top, bottom, and sides of the windows, in at the key-holes,--everywhere the dust finds an entrance. No table, chair, or shelf may be touched without showing the presence of this subtle enemy. Each book, picture, or article of dress acknowledges its power. Was it not in the month of March that the _plague of dust_ tormented the Egyptians? Unless some learned interpreter of the Bible can prove the contrary, we are inclined to accept this idea. There is no other season of the year when one feels so little courage, for we cannot “rest from our labors.” However faithfully the work may be done, an hour will destroy all trace of our industry. Then why attempt to do it? Why not let all cleaning cease till March gives place to its betters, and then have a general purification?

If there were no other reason for patient continuance in well-doing, notwithstanding all discouragements, the injury done to carpets and furniture would be a good and sufficient one. With the strong March winds the dust is so thoroughly sifted into the threads of carpets, and into the moldings and ornaments of furniture, that if not very often removed, it would be almost impossible ever to do it. The sharp grains of dust would sink into the carpets, and the friction of walking over them would wear out the material more in this month than in any two months of the year. Heavy brocatelle curtains and delicate lace are very easily defaced and injured by the dust, if not often shaken and freed from the constant accumulation.

It cannot be helped; through all this windy, unmanageable season, frequent usings of dusters and brushes are inevitable, and, if thoroughly applied, aside from the economy of it, will greatly lighten the labor of the spring house-cleaning.

A good beating with a furniture _whip_ (two or three ratans, lightly braided or twisted together, and the ends united in a handle, found at any house-furnishing store) is an excellent thing to dislodge dust from chairs, sofas, table-covers, mattresses, etc., but the beating must be followed by the use of the feather-brush over all, and an old silk handkerchief for polished or highly varnished furniture.

Windows are very difficult to keep bright and clean at this season of the year. If there is rain or snow, it is usually followed by high winds, which dry the streets and very soon cover the damp windows with a storm of dust,--settling into the molding and around the sash to such a degree that it will require much time and hard work to remove; and even while washing them, the dust is still swept over the windows. It is wise, when windows are so quickly and easily defaced, to wet a clean, smooth cloth in a little whiskey or alcohol, and cleanse the glass with it. It removes the dirt much more thoroughly and gives a better polish to the glass than water can, and evaporates so quickly that the dust will not so readily adhere. This may be liable to objections on the ground of economy; but, for three or four weeks it is much more effective, and makes the work so much easier, that we are inclined to think it is not extravagant. Of course it must be used with judgment. A little will be sufficient.

Now, more than any other part of the year, the ashes must be removed from the cellar, if you have a furnace, faithfully every morning. If allowed to accumulate, a heavy wind will send them up through the flues and registers, to settle in the carpets or furniture, and do more injury than the dust, because the alkali in the ashes will eat the texture and injure the colors.

Then, again, it is important that on washing-days some attention should be paid to the wind. It is a great trial to a methodical housekeeper to put off the week’s washing for a day or two. It seems to derange all the work planned for other days, and makes one feel unsettled, as if everything was sadly out of joint. It is not at all pleasant to consent to such innovation, but March is a tyrant, and in the end it is better to submit to its caprices. To see all your clothes on the line at the mercy of a real March wind, would be worse than to defer the washing and wait for a milder day. The clothes will be more injured and worn by one day’s snapping on the line, in a very high wind, than in weeks of wear; and unless one has a good, roomy attic with windows at each end to admit free air, it is wise, if not agreeable, to put the clothes in soak, after washing, in plenty of clear water, and wait for the calm, or defer the entire washing to that propitious moment.

Yet a good, brisk March wind, with an unclouded sky, has its excellences. There is no better time to put blankets, carriage-robes, and heavy winter garments out to air. If not left out too long, such heavy articles will not be liable to so much injury, by whipping on the lines, as cotton and linen, and it is an excellent and effective way to free these cumbrous garments from dust and moths.

These are only a few of the reasons for the necessity of more than usual vigilance in this stormy month of March; they are but _hints_ to call attention to the subject. Your own good sense, kept awake by the wild wind that is shaking the windows as we write, and bending the tall masts beyond, will enable you to carry them out more minutely and practically than we shall attempt at present to do.

III.

SPRING LABOR.

MOTHS.--The first few days of April are too near kin to March to warrant any decided steps toward the regular spring house-cleaning; but it is quite time now that special attention be paid to _moths_ and their characteristic destructiveness.

In furnace-heated houses, moths are occasionally found in mid-winter; but they are only the advance guard of the main army, and do little harm, save by the annoying reminder of what one has cause to fear in spring.

In April they will begin to show themselves very much in earnest, and are seen too often for your comfort, particularly after the gas or lamp is lighted. If an expert, you may destroy many, as, attracted by the bright light which lures them to destruction, they fly around you; yet enough remain to keep you constantly on the lookout. We know of no remedy, when moths have once gained entrance to a house, but ceaseless watchfulness. They often deposit their eggs in the fret-work and open spaces in cornices, as well as in woollens and furs, and therefore all such hiding-places should be carefully searched. In high-studded rooms it is difficult to reach these sheltered nooks, and therefore in them moths too often find a secure retreat. But although difficult, it is not impossible to dislodge them, even from these high places. A tall step-ladder, with a little care and some one to steady it at the base, can easily be mounted, and from this height you readily gain access to your enemies. If the carving is deep and intricate, take a quill, and with the feather-end brush out these holes into a dust-pan; follow this brushing with a wet cloth wrapped round a pointed stick. It takes time, care, and patience, but is very necessary. In houses that are not often painted, you will probably find large quantities of dust and lint that have accumulated and settled, from sweeping, in the cornices. In this the moths deposit their eggs; and, when hatched, the worm which eats your garments may be found here, snugly rolled in its thin covering, or perhaps just ready to fly through your house, depositing its eggs for the next generation of moths.

A new house, left for months unoccupied, or an old house long untenanted, it is said, will surely be overrun with moths. For this we do not vouch, but are quite inclined to credit it. Our first experience of the plague of moths was on taking possession of a house, almost new, that had stood empty some months,--a dearly bought experience, the debt for which is not fully cancelled after more than fourteen years. In all the cornice ornaments we found large quantities of the eggs and worms snugly laid to sleep, till the warm spring sun should rouse them to begin their mischievous expeditions among our furs, blankets, and garments. Many were fully developed, and flying about in search of some choice place to deposit their eggs.

The spring and summer are their busiest time; and as soon as it is warm enough to dispense with furs, heavy shawls, and woollen garments, these should be well shaken and brushed, then hung on the clothes-line and beaten with the furniture whip, every spot or stain cleansed, and repairs attended to before being done up and put away for the summer. Each housekeeper has probably her own theory as to the best way for packing up such articles as moths injure. Some put pepper, camphor, cedar-chips, sandal-wood, or moth-powder among the articles to be stored away, and then sew them up closely in old linen, or cover them with two or three thicknesses of paper, lapping one over the other, leaving no holes, and then seal the paper up with mucilage. We prefer the paper wrappings, but feel a little safer if we sprinkle Poole’s moth-powder over the articles before sealing.

We have been told that strips of cloth dipped in kerosene, rolled up and placed among flannels, furs, etc., which should then be shut tight in a cedar trunk or close drawer, will surely prevent moths from injuring them, destroying the eggs or such moth worms as are already in possession.

This appears sensible, inasmuch as moths are said to be repelled by any pungent, disagreeable smell. And surely, if that be so, kerosene would be most deadly.

In carpets, moths generally seek the corners and secluded places. For that reason it is essential that in sweeping, at all seasons of the year, one should see that great attention is paid to the corners and edges of carpets. Never attempt to sweep there with a common broom. You cannot get at the corners. Take a whisk-broom or a round, pointed brush, such as is used to clean buttoned furniture, called a _furniture button-brush_, and with it clean out the corners where the carpet is turned in. Have close at hand a pointed stick, which, with a cloth wrapped about it, will enable you to pry into every nook thoroughly. Every few weeks it is well to draw the tacks in the corners a little way, and, turning back the carpet on to a thick paper or old cloth, give the edges a faithful brushing. It is under and near these corners that moths love to secrete their eggs.

IV.

SUNSHINE AND FRESH AIR.

FEW realize how dependent we are on sunshine and fresh air for good health and pleasant, cheerful homes. When shown into a dark and dismal parlor,--blinds all closed and heavy curtains dropped to exclude light,--and creeping forward in search of a seat, fearing, each step, to stumble over a chair or upset a table loaded with small wares on exhibition, we always feel suffocated, as if in a vault among dead men’s bones. And when the servant, after calling her mistress, returns and opens the shutters just far enough to allow one small ray of “light divine” to struggle through, what a relief it is! How we long to spring forward, throw back the curtains, swing the blinds wide open, and give admittance to the full glory of the free, glad sunbeams. But no! Health and comfort must be sacrificed rather than expose the costly carpet and rich curtains. Only so much light as will enable our friend to recognize us may be allowed to enter, and after a few moments’ conversation, as cold and spiritless as the room itself, how glorious seem the clear sky and pure air as we leave the house! We are so chilled and benumbed by our short tarry in those prison-like parlors, that it has penetrated to the heart, and we are not quite sure that we feel any great affection for the friend from whom we have just parted, until, having walked a few moments, we regain life and freshness by a full bath in the fresh breezes and invigorating sunshine.

Strange that any will deprive themselves of blessings so rich, so free, and health-giving for a mere fancy,--particularly when we find that the richest and most beautiful fabrics are generally those which will bear exposure to open windows and pure light.

That perfect ventilation and abundance of light and sun are indispensable to a healthy atmosphere all over the house, should be understood as one of the principles of good housekeeping. Servants are generally careless in airing the rooms committed to their care. Bedrooms, dining rooms, kitchen, and pantries are seldom sufficiently ventilated; and it behooves a housekeeper to maintain a constant watchfulness against such remissness. As soon as you are dressed, throw open the window, take off the bedclothes, spread them neatly across two chairs set in the draught,--taking care that the ends do not drag on the floor. Raise up the mattress; double it like a bent bow on the under-bed, or palliasse, that the air may circulate freely through and around it. Beat up the pillows and bolster, and throw them across a chair near the open window. Some hang them out of the window. All right, if you are careful first to brush the sill free from the dust that will, of course, accumulate there. When ready to leave the chamber, open the doors through from one room to another, even if some rooms have not been used; but be careful, in cold weather, to close the doors leading to the halls, that parlors and halls be not made uncomfortable by too much draught.

Children, boys and girls alike, should be instructed never to leave their bedrooms without at least throwing back the bedclothes and raising the windows; and guests in a family, one would suppose, will do this for their own comfort; but it is well that every housekeeper should be sure that it is done before she goes to the kitchen or breakfast-room. It is particularly desirable that our children become accustomed to this kind of care and attention to their sleeping-rooms; for if the habit is fixed in early youth, when absent from a mother’s care, in school, college, or business, and compelled to board, whatever other discomforts they may be subjected to, they can secure for themselves well-ventilated beds and sleeping-rooms. If, from extra morning duties or ill health, you are not able to attend to this part of the chamber-work yourself, then, as soon as the rooms are all vacated, the chambermaid should go to them at once, taking with her the chamber pail and cloths, and, first opening the windows and putting bedclothes and mattresses to air, as above mentioned, should empty all slops, wash out the washstands and all pertaining to them,--pitchers, soap-cup, tooth- and nail-brush holders,--gather up all dirty clothes and towels, and put them into the basket, or, if wet, hang up to dry. By the time this is faithfully done, the chambermaid will be ready to go to her own breakfast, leaving the windows open, unless in stormy weather, and the beds unmade. Keep strict watch that the servants do not fail to air their own rooms and spread open their beds when they come down to their early morning’s work. Never fear to open chamber windows in stormy weather. If the rain or snow beats in badly, drop the window from the top a little way, or spread an old bit of bagging or oil-cloth before the window to protect the carpet; but in spite of wind or weather, have a full current of fresh air pass through your bedchambers every morning. Once a week mattresses must be thoroughly brushed with a whisk-broom, and the tufts or buttons that tack them together cleaned with a round pointed brush, called a button-brush, so that no lint or dust can lodge about them to shelter moths. When free from lint and dirt, throw the mattress across a table, or spread on the floor an old sheet kept for that purpose, and lay it on that. In the same manner brush the under-bed; then turn it up and with a wet cloth wipe off the inside of the bedstead, raising up the slats that no lint may remain lodged there. By such care you will save much trouble from moths and bugs. It is well to attend to this on Friday, or whichever day may be set apart for sweeping, as lint may be dropped on the carpet, and should be at once removed.

V.

HOUSE-CLEANING.

“LAST year I thought _house-cleaning_ would be ‘real fun.’ I had never before taken the entire charge of such extensive operations, and thought, in my simplicity, that I would show the old ladies how a smart young housekeeper would walk through the fiery furnace, with not even the smell of fire upon her garments. But I little dreamed what I had undertaken. I found out, however, before the ‘fun’ was ended, to my entire satisfaction, and now, in this my second year of housekeeping, look forward to the spring cleaning with the greatest repugnance; gladly enduring all the cold, the winds, and storms of early spring, because they postpone the evil day. But now milder weather and warmer suns are upon us, and this great nuisance may be no longer deferred. How I dread it! No regularity, all rules abolished, servants rebellious, husband--to put it mildly--_uncomfortable_; baby cross, and I--the crossest of all? O dear! What shall I do?”

What shall you do? Take it easy. _Patience_, my child, the oldest panacea, is still the sovereign cure for such trials. But why “borrow trouble”? For weeks you have, in imagination, been carrying this burden which you so much dread. Wait till the proper time comes to take it up. Give each hour its own work; do not permit yourself to groan over that which belongs to the next; and you will find the heaviest and most disagreeable labor, if arranged and performed systematically, glide smoothly through your hands. When it is finished, you will look back in amused surprise at the “bugbear” you had conjured up for your own torment.

True, what is generally understood as regular “spring house-cleaning” is not a pleasant operation; but is it absolutely necessary that this important part of household duties should be made a terror to all in the house? We think not. When furnace, grates, and stoves, have been in constant use for six or seven months, and gas or lamps are burning many hours each night, a very thorough house-cleaning is indispensable. No care can prevent smoke, ashes, and gas defacing walls and ceiling, and finding a lodgment in carpets and furniture, all over the house. And it is necessary that the warm spring days should be devoted to cleaning and renovating; but certainly not to the exclusion of real home comforts and pleasures, while this work is in progress. It is folly to commence by putting the whole house into disorder; displacing everything, leaving no room in habitable condition, that by and by you may, from this utter desolation, bring order out of confusion.

It is best to commence with the cellar, and the first thing to be done, after seeing that the coal-bins are in order, is to have your coal for the year put in. It is usually as cheap, and often cheaper, in the spring than in the fall. The coal safely housed, have the furnace emptied and put in thorough repair. Remove all the ashes. If you have an ash-vault, or bin containing the ashes of the whole winter, you will require a man to do it; but if--which is much wiser--the ashes have been sifted and removed every day, it is no burden, and but a few minutes’ work. Then all bits of waste boards, boxes, and barrels, no longer usable, should be chopped fine and stored with the kindling wood. If dust and cobwebs have been overlooked, brush them down very carefully; sweep the cellar bottom, and, if it is of stone or cemented, scrub it clean. If all this has been done every week, as it should be,--save the putting in coal and repairing the furnace,--it will be only a piece of regular work; but it must be done before any other cleaning is attempted, else the coal dust and ashes will penetrate every part of the house, and render all your labor useless. No door or window can be shut so closely that they will not force an entrance. Be careful to shut the “registers” from the furnace in every room, before moving ashes or coal.

The cellar being in order, the next step is to the attic. If it has been properly attended to through the winter, it is no hard task to make it fresh and clean, unless you allow it to be made the “catch-all” for every kind of useless trash. If not “hard finished,” the walls should be nicely whitewashed or calcimined, after the attic has been swept and dusted. This done, scrub the floor faithfully; polish the windows, and arrange neatly all that properly belongs to the attic. If you have pieces of carpeting stored there, they should be taken into the back yard, well brushed, and spread on the grass or hung on the line, the first thing, before the cleaning is begun.

The cellar and attic in order, you are ready for the upper chambers. If you can afford it, it is well to secure four good house-cleaners, and by putting two in one chamber and two in another, keeping up a quiet, but vigilant superintendence of both parties, you will find, if the work is well contrived, and each part arranged in regular succession, it will be done more quickly, more effectually, and with more economy, than to endeavor to drag through with little help.

Ingrain and three-ply carpets must be lifted every year, and that is the first thing to be done. Brussels and velvet do not need to be taken up oftener than every two years; while heavy Wiltons, Axminster, and Moquettes should not be removed oftener than every three years. The texture is so firm, no dust works through to the carpet lining beneath, and faithful sweeping and thorough use of the “carpet-sweeper” will remove the dust and moth’s eggs. Extra care will be required to clean and brush in corners, and wherever the carpets are turned in and nailed; and they must also be protected, while the walls, ceiling, and wood-work are being cleaned, by a heavy drugget spread over them, and moved from place to place as the cleaning progresses.

When washing painted walls and ceilings, take care in drying them that they are wiped in straight lines, from top to bottom, and not unevenly, or in circles; for however clean you may wash the paint, careless wiping will give it a streaked and untidy appearance.

Brush wall-paper carefully with a feather duster, and then pin a large towel tightly to a clean soft broom, and placing it up to the ceiling, bring it, with an even pressure, in a straight line down to the mop-board or casing. Proceed in this way until you have gone over the entire paper. It will be necessary to change the towel when it looks soiled. If this work is well done, the paper will look almost as fresh as new.

In cleaning door-knobs, bell-pulls, or speaking-trumpets, cut a hole in a piece of oil-silk or soft oil-cloth, and put it round the knob or bell-pull, etc., to protect the paper or paint from being soiled.

We have no room to carry these suggestions further at present, and leave your good, earnest, common-sense to practice and improve upon them.

VI.

WASHING-DAY.

“IF it were not for the washing, housekeeping would lose half its terror. But I rise every Monday morning in a troubled and unhappy state of mind, for it is _washing-day_! The breakfast will surely be a failure, coffee muddy, meat or hash uncooked or burnt to a coal, everything untidy on the table, and the servants on the verge of rebellion. With a meek and subdued countenance, with fear and trembling, lest some unlucky word of mine may infringe upon their dignity and cause them to leave before the washing is finished, I go softly about the house.”

This ought not so to be. In the first place, if you allow yourself to be kept thus in bondage to your servants, you destroy all hope of comfort. Let them once see that you fear to give them offence, and from that hour they are your tyrants.

Define, distinctly, the appropriate duties of each; but with this proviso, that in emergencies they will be required to lend a helping hand in any department where their services are needed. Let them understand, unmistakably, what your rules are,--for you cannot manage a household without well-digested laws and regulations,--then kindly, but firmly, make them know that you will have no infringement upon those rules.

“I wonder how long any girl, my Bridget, for instance, would stay, were I to take such independent ground.”

Probably not long, if she has learned that she can intimidate you; and once aware of that, the sooner she takes her leave the better for your future peace,--that is, if you will be taught by this experience to begin right with her successor. Those servants who fully recognize the lady as their _mistress_, in something more than name, are generally the most respectful and reliable.

Never allow a girl to give a disrespectful answer or manifest irritability, simply because the work for some days in the week may be more distasteful than in others; and never permit them to _threaten_ to leave you without insisting that the threat shall be carried into effect, unless an ample apology is given; for, if passed over submissively, it will be repeated whenever the girl’s temper is ruffled. Not for our own selfish comfort alone, but for the good of all who are compelled to employ servants, should we defend our own rights and position; not till there is concerted action and organized rules that will define the duties and rights of mistress and maid, and these rules strictly enforced, will this plague, which leaves us at the mercy of our servants, be stayed.

And now let us see if there is, really, any good reason why washing-day should be so full of terror. If one is feeble, it is not easy, _nothing_ is; but to a strong, healthy person, it ought not to be burdensome, even if one is obliged to do it one’s own self, particularly with the aid of all the “modern improvements.” The apportionment of duties we have already considered, in Chapter I.

Twenty years ago the tubs and wash-benches were to be brought from the cellar or area, all the water pumped, and often carried some distance, heated in a boiler, then poured into the tubs, and every article wrung out by hand. Then, in the city, tubs were carried out into the streets and the dirty suds emptied into the gutter. But there was little complaint then of hard work. What would the girl of the present day think if expected to work under such disadvantages?

Now we have hot and cold water in the laundry, wringers, “tubs set,” generally, which can be emptied at pleasure, without a step, making the washing of a medium-sized family not as laborious as the Friday sweeping of a large house. With one or two servants in the house, to divide the work, washing is not and should not be considered a hardship.

Put the clothes to soak overnight, rubbing soap on the collars, wristbands, bindings, etc., of each article. We have found Babbitt’s soap very satisfactory, safe, and much more economical than most soap. It is excellent for bleaching. Cut up several cakes in sufficient water to dissolve them, and let it boil till the soap is all dissolved, then pour it into a wooden pail, or old butter-tub that is well cleaned, and when cold it will be nice soft soap, and keep well as long as it lasts. This is a good way to prepare any soap for soaking or boiling clothes. But it is more economical to have a cake of hard soap, to use for the dirty spots, while washing.

Rub soft soap on the dirtiest parts of each garment, when you put them to soak, and just cover them with water. Table linen should be soaked in a separate tub, and washed first; the fine clothes, sheets, and pillow-cases put in another, and stockings and coarse things in a third tub.

Early Monday morning wring out the clothes from the water in which they were soaked, and prepare a fresh, clean hot suds. Table linen and all fine or starched clothes should be washed and hung out first, that they may be dried before night. If any are left out overnight, it should be the stockings and underclothes, bath-sheets, and dish-towels; the latter must be soaked by themselves, and washed in water that has been used for _nothing else_.

When a boilerful has been washed, rub soap on all bindings, collars, etc., replace the clothes in the boiler, fill it with cold or lukewarm water, and set over the range to boil not over twenty minutes; then pour all into a tub, adding cold water enough to make it comfortable to the hand, when ready to put them through the second suds. While the first set of clothes are boiling, of course those for a second boilerful are being washed and ready to be put in as soon as the first is removed, that no time may be lost. When the second is over the fire, get the first through the next suds and the two rinsing waters, which should be blued and ready as quick as possible. Do not be sparing of rinsing water. Have your largest tubs two thirds full, and put in but a few pieces at a time, so that each article may have unobstructed benefit of a large body of water, and all the soap may be removed. Wring and shake out and put into the second rinsing. Shake out each thing from the last rinsing, snapping them smooth; lay them loose into the clean clothes-basket, and hang out to dry before you begin on the second boiler. Careless rinsing and wringing will soon turn clothes yellow. When two girls assist about washing, one should rinse and hang out while the other is washing. It greatly expedites the work, of course, if they do not spend half the time talking; but it must be a very large wash that, even with but one at the tubs, is not all on the line before two o’clock.

Refined borax, in the proportion of one large handful of the powder to ten gallons of boiling water, is said to save nearly one half the soap, and make the clothes beautifully white and clear. It is a neutral salt and will not injure the fabric. For laces, cambrics, etc., an extra quantity is necessary. The wash-women of Belgium and Holland, so famous for the beauty of their work, use borax instead of soda.

Much more might be said on this topic if space would permit, perhaps of little interest to old experienced housekeepers, but our talks are more especially intended for those just entering upon the unknown sphere of domestic care.

VII.

PUTTING CLOTHES TO SOAK.

“A YOUNG housekeeper” is troubled at the idea of “putting clothes to soak” overnight. She is sure it must take two or three hours to do it, and asks, “How is one to do this, who lives in the country, where the ‘modern improvements’ of hot water and cold and stationary tubs are not found, except in the houses of wealthy families; but where all the water must be pumped or drawn by hand, and carried to the tubs by one who has all the work to do for husband and family, and perhaps keeps a few boarders beside? To bring the water, soap the clothes, as they are put in the tub, would occupy two or three hours of the Sabbath; for, as you speak of washing Monday, we infer that you mean to soak the clothes Sunday.”

Yes, Sunday morning or evening, as is most convenient. We think it--like getting breakfast, washing dishes, making beds, etc., on Sunday--one of the necessary items of household labor. True, some prefer to do this Saturday evening, but too long soaking yellows the clothes, and beside only part of them can be collected Saturday. Some also soak their clothes a half-hour Monday morning, but, in our judgment, very little is gained by that. We would, however, by no means advocate the mode we have advised, if _two or three hours_ of the Sabbath or of any other day in the week must be given to it. Twenty minutes or, if a large wash, half an hour, is abundant time.

This young housekeeper evidently imagines that we must be giving _theoretical_ advice, and not such as can be successfully carried into practice. But in this, as in all that we have offered, we speak only of “what we know, and testify of that which we have seen” and done. Ten years at the West, at a time when all “modern improvements” were unknown, and when we were so situated that the work for husband and little ones, and often several boarders, was, of necessity, done with one pair of hands, where the water was all to be _drawn_, not pumped, with now and then a “shake” or “chill,” to fill up the measure of the week’s work (and fever and ague, “out West,” in those days, was a genuine article), compelled us to economize time, if not labor. We never found _two or three hours to spend_ in putting clothes to soak. When supper was over, _Saturday evening_, dishes washed, and babies to sleep, the water was drawn, tubs filled and covered, to keep the water free from dust, and, except the bedding and garments, to be changed Sabbath morning, all the dirty clothes accumulated through the week were “sorted” and laid in piles on the table, in the “wash-shed,” covered over with the clothes-baskets, ready to be soaped and put into water. This last may be done before dressing for church or, as we much prefer, before retiring, Sabbath evening.

Such lessons, taught by the best schoolmaster in the world, _necessity_, are often far more valuable than any we can learn in later life, and under more easy circumstances. Of course no man, whose labor ends with the close of the day, who deserves the honored name of husband (_house-bond_), would need to be asked to put his strong arm to the work, so far as to draw the water and fill the tubs, after tea, in the twilight of Saturday evening; while the wife and mother, whose work never ends till all are sleeping, is putting the little folks to bed and getting everything in readiness for breakfast Sunday morning. But often the nature of the husband’s employment deprives him, by necessity, of the pleasure of assisting his wife. Then, if without servants, there is no other way but for her to prove “woman’s equality with man” by doing it herself. After all, there are many harder things than drawing the good clear water from the well.

Now, with water in the tubs, clothes laid in separate parcels, plenty of soap dissolved, or a nice barrel of soft soap close at hand, does not our “young housekeeper” think the clothes could be soaped and put into the tub in less than half an hour? Would there not be plenty of time after breakfast, before dressing for church, to perform this necessary labor as we think it? Or if making beds or uneasy children consumed too much time in the morning, how long would it take to throw on a wrapper just before retiring, when all is quiet at night, and have the clothes all at soak? The answer to these questions depends on two things,--are you an _early riser_? have you such established system about all your labors as to secure a _time_ as well as a _place_ for everything?

There is one other point that may as well receive attention while we are on this subject.

Many are in the habit of changing bed-linen Saturday night, to avoid what may seem like extra labor Sunday morning, in accordance with their ideas of a strict observance of the Sabbath. We cannot think this wise. It certainly does not meet our ideas of that “cleanliness that is next to godliness.” We think it should be a matter of principle to have everything as pure, as sweet, and clean Sabbath morning as is possible. All one’s clothes are put on fresh on that morning; table-cloths and napkins come right from the drawer. If these are all brought out spotless in their purity, in honor of the Lord’s day, then why should not our beds also rejoice in the whitest of linen? We think it a grateful and appropriate way of beginning our Sabbath; and if the bed-linen is laid out Saturday night, as it should always be, we do not see how it can occupy more time to put on clean things than those which are tumbled and soiled. We think the objections to it are of that kind spoken of as being “wise above that which is written.”

VIII.

PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING.

AFTER one of those days of perplexity and annoyance that will occasionally come to all housekeepers, old or young, order having at last been restored, and peace beginning to dawn out of the confusion, we took up the pen to begin our weekly talk with young friends. But pausing for a moment’s rest and deliberation, our thoughts took form and life, and led us into an imaginary conversation with a young housekeeper, passing though the same trials we had just been battling with. We think we cannot do better than send the thoughts and scenes that rose before our mind, as they so truly illustrate our idea of the necessity of constant watchfulness combined with “patient continuance in well-doing.” We think most of our readers, who have just begun life’s cares, will have already learned that imagination does not, in this case, equal the reality.

SCENE.--A lady’s chamber, and the occupant in tears. Enter a _Motherly Talker_.

--Why! what can be the matter? You, so bright and cheerful usually, in despondency and tears! Some great trouble must have befallen you!

“I am completely discouraged! I ought never to have undertaken housekeeping. It is evident I shall never make a good housekeeper, and I _will not_ be a poor one. After all my boasting when I first began, I am ashamed to tell you now how miserably I have failed. But ‘open confession is good for the soul,’ and when you have had the whole story, say if you think I am worth the teaching.”

Why, how humble our little woman has become! Some “lion in the way,” and, doubtless, of your own creating, has disheartened you for the present, we think. Tell us, without hesitation, what troubles you, and we will see if we cannot find a “silver lining” to this cloud, as it is easy to do in most cases.

“Well, listen, and tell me, when you learn how I have been blinded, if I have not cause to hide in the valley of humiliation.

“I have labored hard to train my Bridget, to the best of my ability, and, with all her inefficiencies, have felt and boasted that she was really _neat_. That being the case, I felt myself capable of keeping so strict a watch of her weak points, that she could not hide her mistakes so deftly but that I would find and try to teach her to rectify them. I had, at the commencement of my new life, arranged everything in the nicest order; and having started the machinery, Bridget seeming so ready to carry out my rules, I was confident that, by keeping up a careful supervision, I could not fail, and was in a fair way to become a bright and shining light among my sister housekeepers.

“Well, Bridget left me yesterday. I didn’t much care. There would be no trouble in replacing her, and doubtless securing a more capable girl. Beside, a few days’ work all to myself would be no hardship; for had I not been so faithful in my oversight of all domestic affairs, that everything about _my_ house must be in perfect order?

“I was in the habit of visiting kitchen and store-closet daily. The sink seemed clean, the range well polished, the boiler bright, and dishes all in order, and making quite a pretty display on the shelves. Ah! if I had handled each article, looked _into_ each pot or kettle, instead of being content to see only the _outside_, I should have soon learned that all was falsely fair! Why! everything was slippery, greasy, dirty, or leaking, except those which were placed in the front rank, _for show_. I am sick and lame from just this morning’s cleaning and scrubbing, and am not half through even the kitchen. Half the dishes that looked so nicely on the shelves are ‘nicked’ or cracked; holes burnt in the saucepans, and bits of old cloth drawn through to stop the leak,--who can tell how long they have remained there, gathering filth, or from what dirty rag they were torn!

“How often I have praised Bridget for keeping the kitchen coffee and tea pot so bright. But when I took them down this morning, lo! the coffee-pot was minus a handle, and the teapot bottomless! They were placed with the perfect side in sight on the shelves, and the broken parts wholly concealed; while my best things were doubtless used in the kitchen. If I must take up each article, day by day, to be sure of their condition, I could do nothing else through the day.

“In the cellar a barrel stood, in its proper place, filled with kindling. I reached my hand in hastily to get paper to start the fire, and quickly snatched it out, cut and bleeding. There were only a few papers on the top of the barrel, and all the rest of its contents was broken glass and china!

“Then my store-closet is kept locked, and the key in my own pocket. I have always handed out everything--sugar, spices, sweetmeats, etc.--myself, yet I find much sugar, sweetmeats, spices, and jellies missing! Now that my suspicions are aroused, I see what has gone. If _I keep the keys myself_, and yet am not safe from pilfering, what can I do? But other housekeepers have not this trouble: where lies the secret of their success, and my most humiliating failure?”