An Overworked Generation.
By William W. Crane
THERE is no doubt that civilization is a blessing to mankind, up to certain bounds. These bounds have been passed, in this country. Idlers, living by "brain work," luxuriate on the proceeds of the toil of the working men; men of "hard work," who, H. W. Beecher says, "must rank below men of 'brain work.'" Shrewd speculators, planters, jobbers, and the incumbents of lucrative offices, constitute an aristocracy, and, abounding in money, set the fashion of houses, furniture, dress, food and carriages so high, as to waste a great part of the hard-earned substance of the country; and, at the same time, so look down upon the honest laboring class, as to give them a painful anxiety to imitate their extravagance. These working people work too hard, work in pain: often break down in body and mind; become prematurely old, and descend to an untimely grave. Weary, nervous, and corroded with care, they have little serenity, and, though Christians by profession, and by honest motive, their temper is often sour, gloomy, and irritable. Their children inherit their temper, and re-act on the parents' spirit. Mrs. Alger received notice, on Monday evening, that Mrs. Bliss would visit her, on Wednesday, and that her two daughters from the city, and a friend of theirs, would accompany her. This notice gave very little pleasure. It came when Mrs. A. was extremely tired with her washing. She was giving attention to a sick child, four years of age, and carrying a tired and crying infant in her arms, and at the same time, preparing supper for her husband, who had just come in from labor. "It is hard," she said, "to maintain my standing with Mrs. Bliss' circle of friends. She is quite aristocratic herself, and I am frightened in view of a visit from her daughters from the city, and a stranger with them; but I must try to maintain my standing, though I am working myself to death." "I hope," said Mr. A., "you will not have to purchase much to-morrow, for my account at Baldwin's has already run so high that he wants a mortgage on our lot." "I cannot get along without quite a bill," said Mrs. A. "We must have groceries, and an addition to our table furniture, and a little ready-made clothing, as I have no time to sew." "I am working very hard," said Mr. A., "but, at this rate, I must, as you say, work myself to death." He went, on Tuesday morning, and made the purchases, and came home with a heavy heart. The visitors came and went, whether they spoke well or ill of Mrs. A., I cannot tell. She had done her best; had worn herself out, broken down her nerves, and was half insane all the night and morning before the visit. She forced on a serene countenance when they came, which was near leaving her when the sick child groaned, when the babe, which was teething, crept after her, crying and seizing her dress; and when Willie came in with his new clothes smeared with mud. When the visit was over, Mr. and Mrs. A. were unnerved, anxious, morose, and irritable, for Baldwin had that day secured a mortgage on their house and lot, for which they mutually blamed each other. They might have been better servants of God, better citizens, and much happier, with contentment, without mahogany, upholsters, carpets, silver, or even glass table furniture, without silk, or any costly cloth. An Irish cabin with an earth floor, without debt, might be the seat of happiness. It is alarming to see how many women in this country are broken down in their nerves, and often distracted, by struggling to keep up with custom. Is this right? Hospitality, which, in the days of simplicity was a rich blessing to both giver and receiver, is spoiled, and poisoned by custom. A prominent minister said, he chose to make his visits, not only where he could be comfortable, but where he might be the most comfortable. This cut his poor parishioners to the heart; and it was pitiful to see how they toiled in pain, and went beyond their means, to make their homes attractive to him. When Quarterly Meeting approached, at A. ———, Sister Green worked so hard, every day, that she fell upon her bed, every night, exhausted and miserable. "Why," said Bro. G., "are you killing yourself with work, Sarah?" "I tell you, Henry, I must put his house83in order. I cannot have my name bandied over the circuit, as untidy." She said this in ill-humor, for one so extremely weary is hardly sane; and Peter's elbows had pushed through his sleeves, Nelly was crying with a sore foot, and the twin babies were asleep on the floor. When the parlor was filled with social guests, or when the table was surrounded with cheer, no one, but an old itinerant, guessed what pains the feast had cost; and, perhaps, he alone excused Sarah Green for missing the love feast, and coming into meeting after sermon began. He had learned, in almost every instance of fashionable hospitality, to look out for a care-worn face. At the camp-meeting in S. ——, two families united, and built a large tent, which, with a large table, became very attractive, and was soon thronged. The two sisters, who gave a continued feast, had each a helpless babe, and other small children to look after, and almost constant cooking, setting tables, removing dishes, and making beds. A happy group sat talking and singing, who brought no cares with them to meeting, when Sister G. said, "Breakfast is ready." At table, Rev. I. D. said, "Sister G., our sister, Nancy Page, experienced sanctification, last night, in a glorious prayer meeting, in the tent adjoining yours," to which Nancy assented. She was a single lady of twenty-eight, and was here without labor or care. Would Nancy's sanctification stand the test of the toils and cares of sister G., who had worked so hard the day before, that she could scarcely walk; and, after subdividing her beds, lay down at midnight, but could not sleep, for the loud singing and shouting in the adjoining tent, which continued all night. —WILLIAM W. CRANE, in Wesleyan.