. . Excuse the brevity of this
letter, for I have been drawing all day, and my eyes are so tired it
is quite a labour to write."
But, as the vivid remembrance of this pleasure died away, an accident
occurred to make the actual duties of life press somewhat heavily for a
time.
"December 21st, 1839
"We are at present, and have been during the last month, rather busy,
as, for that space of time, we have been without a servant, except a
little girl to run errands. Poor Tabby became so lame that she was at
length obliged to leave us. She is residing with her sister, in a
little house of her own, which she bought with her savings a year or
two since. She is very comfortable, and wants nothing; as she is
near, we see her very often. In the meantime, Emily and I are
sufficiently busy, as you may suppose: I manage the ironing, and keep
the rooms clean; Emily does the baking, and attends to the kitchen. We
are such odd animals, that we prefer this mode of contrivance to
having a new face amongst us. Besides, we do not despair of Tabby's
return, and she shall not be supplanted by a stranger in her absence.
I excited aunt's wrath very much by burning the clothes, the first
time I attempted to iron; but I do better now. Human feelings are
queer things; I am much happier black-leading the stoves, making the
beds, and sweeping the floors at home, than I should be living like a
fine lady anywhere else.
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