Chapter II: Part 2

_Miss Bradawl._ "Oh, she's nobody; it's strange how some women attract the men; now there's Miss Blinkins over there, such a nice clever girl, and I haven't seen a man speak to her the whole evening."]

It is said in "Knight's Guide to Service" that "when for the first time you stand behind your mistress's chair to brush her hair, you may feel that you are placed in a situation of high trust." This, however, depends upon circumstances; for if your mistress dyes her hair, it is a great mark of her confidence to ask you to brush it. If she wears false braids, she is, to a certain extent, in your power; for, as the poet says--

"Should she upbraid,"

you might betray her; but if she is almost bald, and wears a wig, from the moment of your being entrusted to stand behind her chair and brush her hair, you may do what you please with her.

If, in the story of _Faustus_, _Margaret_ had worn a wig, and _Mephistophiles_ had seen her but once without it, the power of the fiend over her would have been irresistible.

"How often have I told you I will not?"

"But why not?" (_Then, thoughtfully, after a pause._) "Are you afraid of being asked to look pleasant?"]

In your position of lady's-maid, many family secrets will perhaps come to your knowledge. Do not talk of them to your fellow-servants, which would, in fact, be destroying your own valuable monopoly. A servant who knows a great deal of the family affairs cannot be cheaply parted with. You will be secure in your place, and will therefore be in a position to make the most of all its advantages.

The little work we have already alluded to says, that if the lady's-maid is depressed in spirits, "she should open her mind to the friend, whoever it may be, that got her the place." This friend is usually the keeper of a servants' office, who would have enough to do if she were made to bear the infliction of all the unbosomings of all the discontented servants she may have found situations for. This mode of easing your heart would involve the necessity of constantly running out, besides the expense of an occasional omnibus.

_He (who did)._ "I can't altogether say that it is so to me, Miss Jones!"]

Manners form an essential part of the qualities of a lady's-maid, and making one's self agreeable is the best mannered thing one can possibly accomplish. This is to be done by praise, for nothing is more agreeable to a lady than flattery. However sensible your mistress may be, she is sure to have a share of female vanity; and even if she knows herself to be ugly altogether, she will fancy she has some redeeming feature. If she squints, praise her complexion; if that is bad, tell her she has beautiful eyes: if she has a dumpty figure, praise her face; and if her countenance is as ugly as sin, tell her that her shape is exquisite. Some people will tell you that sensible women don't like flattery; but this you must not believe; for, however sensible they are, they are pleased by it, particularly when it is administered with so much art as to seem not intended for mere compliment. Very palpable praise is insulting to the generality of ladies; but flattery can scarcely be too gross for some few of them. You should study the character of your mistress, that you may not run the risk of offending her by too much praise, or hurting her by giving too little. Your mistress will sometimes take a journey, and you will then have to pack her things for her. The following directions for packing a lady's portmanteau may, therefore, be of use to you:--Put the lighter dresses at the bottom, for these will not be wanted while travelling; and artificial flowers, wreaths, &c., may go along with them. Insert next a layer of dress caps, and ram well down with heavy dresses, to keep the others in their places. Throw in a sprinkling of shoes, and then add the rest of the wardrobe; cramming-in the marking-ink and the desk at the top, where they are easily got at if they are wanted. Thrust in scissors and hairbrushes anywhere that you can find room for them. Get the footman to cord the box, for it will be a good romp for you, as well as great assistance.

By following these instructions, you will find that you have a tolerably snug place of it.

THE NURSERY-MAID

Any one may undertake the place of a nursery-maid. As every female has, when a girl, been in the habit of carrying, letting fall, snubbing and slapping, either her own or some one else's little brothers and sisters, it is easy to say you have been accustomed to children.

Supposing that you enter service as a nursery-maid, there will, perhaps, be an upper nurse, who will be, in fact, your mistress. Your care at home will be to wait on her; and when walking out, you will have to keep the children at a convenient distance while she flirts with her _beau_, who will probably be one of the British soldiery. This will be very tantalising to you at first; but you must recollect that your own time will come, if you wait patiently.

"Oh, yes. Jack wanted her to give up gambling and smoking, and goodness knows what else."

(_Chorus._) "How absurd!!"]

Some places are very different from others. You may go into a wealthy family where the children are kept upstairs, like live lumber, in the nursery, and are only brought out now and then for show, like the horses of the state carriage, or the best tea-set. If you curb their spirits that they may be docile on those occasions, and turn them out to the best advantage as far as appearance is concerned, you will be a favourite with your mistress. In some places you will be what is called "assisted" by the mother; or, in other words, interfered with, just enough to destroy all your attempts at discipline. In this case, your mistress will doubtless tell you, that if you cannot manage the children, she must find someone who can, and will give you warning accordingly.

_He._ "H'm--it isn't his _front_ I object to. It's his _side_!"]

It is not necessary to give you any particular directions about your dress, for the penny _Belle Assemblée_ will furnish you with all the latest fashions; and you have only to do in cottons and stuffs, what your mistress is doing in silks and satins. You should bear in mind, that you are not obliged to make yourself a dowdy to please any one; for nature has doubtless given you a pretty face, and the gifts of nature ought to be made the most of. Besides, if you are a servant at home, you are a lady out of doors; and you may even keep a parasol at the greengrocer's, to be ready for you when you take a holiday.

When you go to a new place, your mistress will, perhaps, tell you the character of each child, that you may know how to manage their different tempers; but you will, of course, use your own discretion. If one is pointed out as a high-spirited little fellow, you may be sure that he is fond of killing flies, tying toys to the dog's tail, striking you, and crying, as if you had struck him, when he hears his mamma coming. If you are told that one of the dear boys has a turn for finding out how everything is made, and he must not be checked, as his papa intends him for a civil-engineer, you may be sure that the juvenile spirit of inquiry will be shown in pulling your work-box to pieces, unless you turn his attention to the furniture, which he should be encouraged to dissect in preference to any of your property.

"What! Haven't you heard? Why, she's just been made editor of the pet poodle page in the _Upper Crust Magazine_!"]

When you have a baby to take care of, some say you should be particular in its food; but if the child cries you have no time for this, and you must stop its mouth with anything that comes handiest. Indiscriminate feeding is said to lay the foundation of diseases which remain with the child through life; but as you do not remain with the child so long, this is not your business. A nurse who knows thoroughly what she is about, will keep a little Godfrey's Cordial, or some other opiate, always at hand--but quite out of sight--to soothe the infant; for nothing is so distressing to the mother, or such a nuisance to yourself, as to hear a child continually crying. When there is only one infant these soothing syrups must be cautiously applied, lest the necessity for a nurse should terminate altogether, and you are thrown out of your situation.

_Partner (re-assuringly)._ "That's all right. I don't see what else you could have done!"]

An infant sometimes requires example before it will take to its food, and, as it is very nice, you may as well eat one half of it first, to encourage the infant to eat the other. Use sugar in children's food very sparingly, and, lest the infant be tempted to want some of the sugar that is saved out of the quantity allowed, lose no time in locking it up out of sight in your own tea-caddy. If you wish to save your beer-money, recollect that milk is heavy for children, unless mixed copiously with water. As nothing ought to be wasted, you can drink what remains, instead of beer, at your dinner.

There are many very troublesome duties that some nurses undertake in order to amuse the child; but as Nature is acknowledged to be the best nurse, you had better let Nature try her hand at all the hard work, while you confine yourself to that which is easy.

When a child reaches a certain age it will begin to want amusement, when, if there are no toys, you may give it the poker and tongs, or set it down on the floor before the coal-scuttle. Opening and shutting a box is also an amusement; as it involves occasionally the shutting in of the child's own fingers, the operation combines instruction also. As a child may be troublesome while being washed, give it the powder-puff; and as every thing goes to the mouth, the dear little thing will commence sucking the powder-puff, which will keep it quiet.

This is not a feast of "funeral baked meats." It is a party of hygienic enthusiasts, following the system by which all food is masticated eighty-five times and then allowed to remain in the mouth till it disappears by involuntary absorption.]

A very interesting age in children is when they begin "to take notice." When taking a walk with the children it cannot be expected that you can always have your eyes on _them_, and you must therefore accustom them to take care of themselves as much as possible. Besides, self-preservation is the first law of Nature, and a child cannot too soon be taught to follow it. Thus, if you are looking about you and the children get into the road, while a carriage is passing, you will probably not be aware of their danger, till it is past, when you will begin slapping and scolding your little charges that they may know better for the future.

It is a very fine thing to encourage generosity in children, and you should therefore talk a great deal about the presents you have received on birth-days and on other occasions from the little dears in the place where you last lived. This will of course give your mistress a hint as to what she ought to do. For the children will naturally ask to be allowed to make you presents, and the parents not liking to check the amiable feeling, and desirous of not being thought shabby in comparison with your former employers, will no doubt give--through the hands of the children--what you may have occasion for.

_Sporting Guest (thinking to be highly complimentary)._ "Leads--eh--ah--by several lengths, eh--and the rest nowhere! What?"]

If you have nephews and nieces you may supply them with many little articles of dress that are pronounced to be "past mending." If your mistress notices that the stock of children's things diminish, you can suggest that "things won't wear for ever," which often passes as an apology for a sensible diminution in the number of socks and pinafores. You may observe that Master So-and-So is such "a spirited little fellow, that he does wear his things out very fast," and your mistress will be satisfied if she thinks her child's spirit has caused half his wardrobe to evaporate.

If you follow all these instructions to the letter, you will make as good a nursery-maid as the best of them.

* * * * *

HINT TO HOUSEMAIDS.--How to destroy flies--encourage spiders.

_Applicant._ "Oh, there won't be any trouble about that, ma'am. I've got a quiet taste myself."]

_Bishop (reproving delinquent page)._ "Wretched boy! _Who_ is it that sees and hears all we do, and before whom _even I_ am but as a crushed worm?"

_Page._ "The missus, my lord!"]

"Yes, sir, I'm very sorry, sir, but I really can't put up with missus any longer!"

"Ah, James! think how long _I_'ve put up with her!"]

"Oh, but _I_'ve been talking to her for the last hour, and she doesn't interrupt. Now, that's what I think so charming!"]

_His Hostess (sweetly)._ "Oh, but I can tell you a very simple remedy. You should talk to yourself--after going to bed!"]

_Binks (inexperienced, aged nineteen)._ "Yes, but it's just like you."]

"_Well_--you might add 'charming scenery!'"]

SCENE--_A Boarding-house._

_Wife._ "Why do you always sit at the piano, David? You know you can't play a note!"

_David._ "Neither can anyone else, while I am here!"]

_Miss J._ "But shan't I bore you? It is possible to have too much of a good thing, you know."

_Hostess._ "Yes; but that doesn't apply to _your_ playing!"]

_Sir William Grubbe._ "You go into business, my boy. See what it's made me!"

_Jack (emphatically)._ "Oh, Sir William, I've quite decided to take the mater's advice."]

THE LOST CHANCE

_New Maidservant (much pleased with herself)._ A gentleman called to see you, sir, and said as he were just leavin' town for some time. Knowin' as you didn't want to be disturbed this morning, I told him as you was _h_out--

_Master._ Quite right. (_To himself_) Sharp girl this!

_New Maid (cheerfully)_--and told him as I didn't know when you'd be back again. 'Is card's in the 'all, sir. He 'ave wrote somethin' on it.

[_She fetches it, returns, and presents it._

_He._ "Sorry I forgot your party the other evening!"

_She._ "Oh, weren't you there?"]

_Master (reads writing on card, then suddenly springing up, exclaims)_ Oh--(_stops the escape of a very strong expletive_)--How long ago?

_New Maid (cheerfully)._ Oh, quite a _h_our. There was luggidge on the cab.

_Master (subsiding hopelessly in chair, to Maid)._ You can go. (_Alone, grinding his teeth._) Confound the idiot! (_Reads card muttering to himself._) _Snooker Poole, Chork Cottage, Kew. "Called to repay coin personally. Sorry to miss you. So long!_" I shall never see my hundred and fifty again!... That's the worst of new servants!

[_He is left considering whether it would not be as
well to alter the form of his instructions to the
hand-maiden. Scene closes._

* * * * *

THE BOASTFULNESS OF BELINDA.--_Arabella (concluding the description of the magnificence of her employer's home)._ And in the servants' 'all we 'as 'ot plovers' heggs ev'ry mornin' for brekfist.

_Belinda._ That's nothin'. At hour 'ouse hall the fires is laid with reel sparrow-grass sticks instead of wood!

[_Arabella dries up._

_Cook (with much dignity)._ "You needn't have any fear, my lady. In really 'igh class families religion is _never_ mentioned!"]

SPRING-CLEANING HINTS

(_With acknowledgments to the "World and his Wife"_)

HOW TO MAKE OLD PICTURES LOOK NEW.

Many houses have pictures darkened with age which only need a little drastic treatment to make them as fresh and bright as new oleographs. The surface should first be soaked in a strong solution of hydrochloric acid and then rubbed with an old nail-brush. Any paint that should chance to be removed can easily be supplied by a local artist for a few pence. We heard of a Sir Joshua Reynolds which was treated like this the other day in its owner's absence, and on his return was mistaken by him for a Christmas supplement.

TO REVIVE KID.

Give the kid a stiff brandy-and-soda.

A PRETTY USE FOR OLD BOOTS.

It is a mistake to throw away old boots as useless, or to waste them on newly-married couples. A most charming effect can be obtained by planting a fern in the heel and hanging the boot from the ceiling in the window. Any kind of fern will do.

_Lady Smart._ "Ah, she's strong-minded, of course!"

_Daughter of the House._ "Can you tell that by just looking at her?"

_Lady Smart._ "No--by looking at him!"]

TO REMOVE STAINS ON THE CEILING.

The best thing to do is to re-whitewash the whole surface, which is done by lying on one's back on the top of the bookshelves and dabbing away steadily. But if the stain still shows through it is best to spill water systematically on the floor of the room above until you have stained the ceiling uniformly, leaving it a russet brown. After all, why should ceilings be white?

TO REDDEN LOBSTER.

Take a saucepan of boiling water and plunge the lobster in. It will emerge quite red and lovable.

TO RENOVATE BLACK LACE.

Wash in beer, beat between the folds of a linen cloth, and, when nearly dry, iron with a cool (not cold) iron. It is not advisable to drink the beer unless you are very thirsty. Good housewives find a way of getting it back into the kitchen cask.

_Miss Ethel._ "Oh, that's all right! Something from Wagner, please, Lucy! Now, Mr. Softly!"]

TO REMOVE INK STAINS FROM THE FINGERS.

Fill your mouth with spirits of salt and then suck the fingers thoroughly.

TO REMOVE STAINED PATCHES FROM THE WALL PAPER.

This cannot be done. The only things to do are (_a_) re-paper entirely, or (_b_) re-arrange the furniture to hide the places.

TO REVIVE OSTRICH FEATHERS.

Soak the feathers in the best Australian wine (Emu brand), and then bury them up to the hilt in the sand. If the feathers still remain unconscious apply a hot-water bottle.

TO EXTRICATE MOTH FROM FUR.

Stimulate the moths by smelling-salts, and when they begin to show signs of activity remove the furs into a dark room lit by several strong wax candles. The moths will immediately quit the furs and rush into the flames of the candles.

_Miss M._ "Oh, I daren't after such good music as we have been listening to."

_Son of the House._ "But I'd rather listen to _your_ singing than to any amount of good music!"]

TO REMOVE MARMALADE FROM VELVET.

Immerse in a lather of white soap in hot water, and, after rinsing and dabbing firmly for five minutes, apply benzoline with a nutmeg-grater. If the marmalade then refuses to go, send for the police.

HOW TO LIGHT A FIRE WITH CELLULOID COLLARS.

Heat the collar over a gas jet until it begins to crack, then apply a fusee and thrust the collar between the bars of the grate.

THE AMENDE HONOURABLE

Quoth Will, "On that young servant-maid
My heart its life-string stakes."
"Quite safe!" cries Dick, "don't be afraid--
She pays for all she breaks."

A "TIMES" QUERY ANSWERED

Say, "_Who controls Policeman X?_"
Why, look'ee,
He--so devoted to the sex,
And ever wary
Near an "airy"--
Is oft controlled by "Cooky."

_Right Reverend Host._ "I'm afraid you've got a bad egg, Mr. Jones!"

_The Curate._ "On no, my lord, I assure you! Parts of it are excellent!"]

CRUCIAL QUESTIONS

_For both sexes at various ages_

AT FIVE.

_She._ Will my new doll open and shut her eyes?

_He._ Off to a party! Will they have mince-pies?

AT TEN.

_She._ Will pretty Master Smith be there this time?

_He._ Will Uncle take me to the pantomime?

_She._ Will Mamma let me wear my hair in curl?

_He._ I say, how many l's are there in "girl"?

AT FIFTEEN.

_She._ Will he give me or Fan the first round dance?

_He._ Will our chaps at the wickets have a chance?

_She._ Will my next dress be made with longer skirts.

_He._ Hoisted? O crikey! Wonder if it hurts?

_She._ Did that sly Fanny hear him call me "dear"?

_He._ I wonder if this "weed" will turn me queer?

_Butler._ "Hin my last sitiwation, sir, I was considered a very tolerable judge o' wine, sir."]

AT TWENTY.

_She._ Will Papa think dear Percy's "screw" too small?

_He._ Does this moustache mean to come on at all?

_She._ Was it my eyes with which he seemed so struck?

_He._ Is it a "pass," I wonder, or a "pluck"?

_She._ I wonder whether _He_ will "pop" tonight?

_He._ I wonder whether _She_ will answer right?

AT TWENTY-FIVE.

_She._ Shall I, oh shall I, have a chance this season?

_He._ A stiffish total! Will there be a breeze on?

_She._ Quite pale! Shall I put on the _tiniest_ touch?

_He._ Most brilliant! Wonder if she rouges much?

_She._ Not a bad figure! Has he any tin?

_He._ Backed "Slowboy" for a pot! D'ye think he'll win?

_She._ Long dress bill! Shall I get into hot water?

_He._ Can I stave off old Snip another quarter?

_Binks._ "No--er--I--hum--er----"

_Hostess._ "Oh, I'm afraid you wouldn't be heard in this large room. Thanks, so much!"

[_Terrible disappointment of Binks, who was simply dying to recite
"Tam o' Shanter."_
]

AT THIRTY.

_She._ Will the new curate be engaged or not?

_He._ Close thing! Shall I have nerve to make the shot?

_She._ Is flirting _really_ now a sort of sinning?

_He._ Is my neat middle parting _really_ thinning?

_She._ Now shall I get a partner for this dance?

_He._ Old Boodles leaving! Shall _I_ have a chance?

_She._ Engaged at last! Now _will_ he keep a carriage?

_He._ That's done! How shall I like the yoke of marriage?

_Nervous Parlourmaid._ "Oh, Mary! And how many are there in a case?"]

AT FORTY.

_She._ When _will_ the major come up to the scratch?

_He._ Fat, _plain_ and forty! Shall I risk the match?

_She._ Is that a tinge of red about my nose?

_He._ Does the grey show--unless one looks too close?

_She._ Could I get on those "sixes" at a pinch?

_He._ Must I allow the vest another inch?

_She._ Did Lady Linda mean that as a snub?

_He._ Will they blackball me at the Buffers' Club?

_She._ Is the dear fellow right about confession?

_He._ How stands my chance if they dissolve this session.

AT FIFTY.

_She._ Will Flora hook the wealthy cotton-spinner?

_He._ Must I drop drinking port wine after dinner?

_She._ Not meet! Great Heavens! Am I getting _stout_?

_He._ By Jingo, was that twinge a touch of gout?

_She._ _Did_ he mean anything by that warm glance?

_He._ Shall I have "go" to get through this round dance?

_She._ Will it be Brighton or the Continent?

_He._ My dear, _can_ that last cheque be wholly spent?

_Hostess._ "Thank you so much!"]

AT SIXTY.

_She._ Will Lady Jane before those Jones's bow?

_He._ Shall I, I wonder, get my knighthood now?

_She._ Doctor, dear doctor, what _does_ ail my back?

_He._ Will Lord Fitz-Faddle give that berth to Jack?

_She._ Is Nelly really sweet on _that_ young Brown?

_He._ Are Costa Ricas going up or down?

_She._ He seemed so sparkish! Is it _quite_ too late?

_He._ Dull, this! _Am_ I too old a bird to mate?

_Miss Brown._ "Oh, but _surely_ I heard our hostess say you were '_the_ Mr. Smithson!'"]

* * * * *

OUTRAGE ON GOLDSMITH

(_By a sleepy housemaid, concerning missus_)

She rings us up at 7, till 10 she lies--
"More bent to raise the wretched, than to rise."

"Yes, thank you, mum. But we was rather disappointed, as the policemen's feet didn't come off!"]

* * * * *

CUTTING!--_Host._ "What bin did you put that Marsala in, Muggles?"

_New Butler._ "In the--ah--dust-bin, sir!!"

* * * * *

SOCIAL GARDENING.--Cultivating an acquaintance.

* * * * *

_Q._ What's the difference between a fraudulent Bank Director and a Servants' Registry Office?

_A._ The former cooks books, the latter books cooks.

* * * * *

THE SUBLIME.--The fashions of this season.

THE RIDICULOUS.--The fashions of last season.

* * * * *

MUFFS AND MARQUISATES

Lord M's a muff; but shrewd mammas determine
Muffs _have_ a value when they're trimmed with ermine!

* * * * *

THE BEST FRENCH EXERCISES FOR GIRLS.--A series of practical studies in cookery _à la Française_.

_Applicant._ "Oh, I can cook any-think, mum."

_Mistress._ "What about _entrées_?"

_Applicant._ "Yes, I can do _ontrays_, mum."

_Mistress._ "Can you do a _vol-au-vent_?"

_Applicant (doubtfully)._ "Well, mum, in my last place there _was_ once some _talk_ about a _vollervong_, but it fell through."]

* * * * *

CLERICAL ÆSTHETICS.--_Fair Parishioner._ "And do you like the pulpit, Mr. Auriol?"

_The New Curate._ "I do not. Er--it hides too much of the figure, and I like every shake of the surplice to tell!"

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Variations in spelling, hyphenation and accents are as in the original.

Italics are shown thus _italic_.