Apologizing People

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Apr 20, 1876

Apologizing People.

THERE are people, who, if you may credit their own assertions, never have anything fit to eat, drink or wear, while entertaining company. Such an one is my neighbor, Mrs. Steele. She is an excellent neighbor, kind and obliging, and a good woman in all other respects excepting this inveterate habit of apologizing for and condemning all of her own manufacture or possession. I was much amused the other day when, happening in on an errand, I witnessed the reception of an old lady who was somewhat given to flattery, and had the reputation of “knowing on which side her bread was buttered.”

“Why how do you do?” said Mrs. S. meeting her at the door; “do come right in and sit down, if you can do so on my dreadful dirty floor; I’ve been meaning to wash it all the week, but haven’t, somehow.”

“Oh, never mind the floor, Mrs. S.; I came to see you and not the floor. Besides, I never saw a speck of dirt here in my life.”

I glanced at the subject of my neighbor’s apologies, and, though not so bad as she represented, it was what might be called reasonably dirty, taking into consideration the fact that it had rained almost constantly the two or three days previous, and Mrs. Steele’s family of boys were not remarkable, more than any other boys, for the virtue of cleanliness.

The floor, windows, chairs, and various other articles being exhausted (having been pronounced horribly dirty on one side, and on the other invested with a spotless robe of purity), Mrs. S. commenced on her own costume. She had been so busy all the morning she thought she would keep on her old dress till after dinner; if she had known anybody was coming she would have put on something decent, &c. Her visitor immediately disputed her, saying she looked well enough; her dress was fit to wear anywhere; she should not change it while she was there, if she did she would never come again.

My errand being accomplished I departed for home; but imagination, aided by experience, pictured them sitting down to the well spread dinner-table where the psalm of apology commenced again.

The potatoes were miserable, soggy things,—it was strange they never did have any good potatoes; the pudding wasn’t half done—she never had any luck with puddings; and the apple pie with its tender, light crust was nearly raw—their apples never would bake soft. The tea wasn’t fit to drink, their well water was poor, and besides she never could get any decent tea of Jones.

On the other hand the potatoes were miracles of mealiness and whiteness; the pudding was wonderful—how in the world could she bake it so nice in that stove? her daughter had one like it, and she never put a pudding into it without burning it to a crisp; the apple pie was the acme of excellence; how did she impart such a delicious flavor to her pies? As for the tea, if the visitor was to be believed, it was second only to the ambrosial nectar of Paradise; she meant to send and get a pound or two if it was not all gone. Did Mrs. S. suppose it was?

So passed the shuttlecock backward and forward; but the soggy potatoes and half-baked pudding, the indigestible pie and miserable tea, did not prevent Mrs. Steele’s making a hearty meal; though how she accomplished it, amid the incessant wagging of her tongue, was a miracle indeed.

Now is this right? is it truthful? Would Mrs. Steele have been as well pleased had some one else judged her furniture and cookery as she had judged them? And had she been criticising her neighbors’ affairs in this way, and her visitor disputed her as sharply as she did on her own, would it not have given her mortal offense? I trow so.

But my good neighbor is not alone in this respect. As far as practice is concerned there are many Mrs. Steeles, as well as many after the model of her lady visitor. Pity they cannot see themselves as others see them and quit what to my mind is a specie of white lying.

Pity you can’t let the dirty floor, chairs &c., take care of themselves till you get ready to take care of them, and not make them worse than they are, and cause your visitor to think, whatever she may say, that you are the most untidy woman she ever saw.

Let your cookery speak for itself, as it will be apt to do whether you say anything or not; and do not, if it is good, be asking praise for it under the guise of bemoaning its lackings, while if it is not so good, do not

put your visitor under the necessity of saying what she knows to be false, or offending you by agreeing with you.

And, lastly, do not apologize for your costume, whatever you have on; for if you are dressed in rags, you ought to be ashamed to call attention to them, or feel that they are dignified by your wearing them; while if you are robed in silk, be sure it will be noticed whether you ask it or not.