I might occupy a hundred pages on the subject, and yet fail to
give an adequate idea of the sore, angry, ever wakeful pride that
seemed to torment these poor wretches. In many of them it was so
excessive, that all feeling of displeasure, or even of ridicule,
was lost in pity. One of these was a pretty girl, whose natural
disposition must have been gentle and kind; but her good feelings
were soured, and her gentleness turned to morbid sensitiveness,
by having heard a thousand and a thousand times that she was as
good as any other lady, that all men were equal, and women too,
and that it was a sin and a shame for a free-born American to be
treated like a servant.
When she found she was to dine in the kitchen, she turned up her
pretty lip, and said, "I guess that's 'cause you don't think I'm
good enough to eat with you. You'll find that won't do here."
I found afterwards that she rarely ate any dinner at all, and
generally passed the time in tears. I did every thing in my
power to conciliate and make her happy, but I am sure she hated
me. I gave her very high wages, and she staid till she had
obtained several expensive articles of dress, and then, UN BEAU
MATIN, she came to me full dressed, and said, "I must go." "When
shall you return, Charlotte?" "I expect you'll see no more of
me." And so we parted. Her sister was also living with me, but
her wardrobe was not yet completed, and she remained some weeks
longer, till it was.
I fear it may be called bad taste to say so much concerning my
domestics, but, nevertheless, the circumstances are so
characteristic of America that I must recount another history
relating to them.
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