that the change has come, and that the most laborious of the daughters of toil are transferred to another sphere of labor, not less arduous, but only different.
These women of endless and exhausting industry are, it is needless to say, the class who are looked upon as idlers, butterflies, daughters of case and luxury.
They are the women who, as they sit in their luxurious carriages, are regarded by the mill-girl or the fisherman's daughter as the embodiment of pampered bliss; while their lives are unquestionably harder in many cases than any that mill-girl or fisherman's daughter ever imagined.
“It requires my whole time and strength during the whole summer,” said one of this class to me once at Newport
, “and the whole time and strength of my three daughters, to keep up with the ordinary round of social duties — to welcome our guests, to drive and go to entertainments with them, to receive calls, to make calls, and to keep the ordinary machinery of the establishment in operation.”
This lady was one of the very best and most high-minded of her class --conscientious, domestic, enlightened.
I knew from observation that what she said was strictly true.
I knew also that as she did in summer at a so-called “scene of recreation,” so she lived in winter in the city where she dwelt; and this almost of necessity, from the social connections of her family and the real or supposed needs of her children.