GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK
Philadelphia, January 1850

THE THREE CALLS
BY ANNA MASON.

In a community where domestic cares occupy so large a portion of the time of our ladies, it would be very convenient, to say the least, if we were not obliged, by the force of custom, to leave our avocations immediately upon the call of a friend, and sit tete-a-tete with them during their stay, lest another course should give offence.

But more of this another time. My first call this afternoon was upon Mrs. R–––, whose aged father resides with her. One entering the sitting-room, I perceived the old gentleman's spectacles upon the table, near which lay an open "Lady's Book."

The venerable, man himself sat near in his old arm-chair; by his appearance, evidently absorbed in deep thought, for he. did not observe my entrance, and his position did not indicate sleep. He is one of those rare relics of a past generation, whose presence among us we highly prize – a true hero of the Revolution, who served his country during the whole war as a soldier. He is now eighty-eight years of age; but his keen black eye is still undimmed, and sparkles with the fire of youth. The strong good sense with which nature abundantly endowed him, seems to have lost none of its force; and though he feels the bodily infirmities of age, his mental powers retain much of their freshness and vigor. His fine personal appearance, warm heart, and agreeable social qualities render him a most entertaining companion. I did not disturb his re-very; but, quietly taking a chair, proceeded to take up the open book, little thinking it was this which engaged the thoughts of the soldier of Seventy-Six. The rustling of the leaves so near, startled him; and turning his head a little, he perceived me.

"That is a valuable periodical," said he.

I did not reply, for I verily thought the old gentleman was wandering a little. What in the world could he find in fashion plates and love tales, lace patterns and embroidery, to interest a mind like his?

"Are you a subscriber?" be added.

On my replying in the negative, he said –– "Pray then, take this number, and read the article entitled 'Heroic Women of the Revolution.' It has recalled vividly to my mind the scenes of former days, and for two hours I have been living in the camp and the battle-field. Why, I knew Deborah Samson as well as I know yourself. I was drill sergeant of the company to which she belonged, and gave her first lessons in military discipline. A fine young fellow I thought her to be; and so did the mess to which she belonged, for she was quite a favorite among them. I remember her lively, animated countenance as if it were but yesterday she stood before me at drill."

The subject interested the speaker much; and he would have continued his conversation but for the 'interruption of visitors; and I reluctantly left.

My next call was upon a lady noted for her good housekeeping and refined taste–– a most admirable union in a woman. The cool, darkened house seemed very refreshing after my long walk- in the heated street. I passed into the dining-room, where sat a little girl some twelve or thirteen years of age. Her hair was smoothly combed; her dress clean, and neatly arranged, harmonizing well with the orderly appearance of the room. I knew her as a girl my friend had taken to aid her in the I kitchen; indeed, she was at that time the only help she had. She rose very respectfully, gave me a seat, and left the room to call Mrs. P. I glanced at the book. It was open at "Amelia"––Miss Leslie's novel.

I expressed some surprise to my friend, when she entered, that, amid all her cares, she could give her help time to read "The Lady's Book."

" Why really," said she, " I know not how I could keep house without it. My husband reads it aloud to me while I sew evenings; and though he laughed when I proposed taking it, and said it seemed a foolish way to spend' money, yet he finds enough in each number to pay the subscription. And as to Jane, though she is poor and dependent, nature has given her a good intellect and the plea- sure of reading. ' The Lady's Book' is to her, in prospective, like the land of Canaan to the Israelites – I have but to say, 'Do your work well and promptly, and you shall have an hour for reading it this afternoon,' and it is done with the dispatch and punctuality of the neatest housewife."

" Well, really, I have heard of charms and fairies in housekeeping; but this is quite a new way of oiling the wheels of the domestic machinery," said I.

An hour passed pleasantly away as we discussed the "Book," and the various methods to soften and elevate the condition of the more dependent and less highly favored of our own sex.

Filled with better thought, I went on my way; but, recalling a request made to me a few days before by a widow, that I would furnish her some sewing, I concluded to take the opportunity while I was out, and engage her to make some fine shirts. I therefore soon found myself knocking at the door of a little brown house in a retired street. It was opened by a young girl who, after placing a chair for my accommodation, immediately seated herself and resumed her sewing. Mrs. L. was left a widow with four children and a blind grandmother to support. Her whole property, at the time of her husband's death, amounted, all told, to but three hundred dollars; but, with a spirit and energy that do honor to our sex, she determined to keep her family together, and, if possible, find means for their maintenance. And nobly thus far has she performed her task.

Sarah, a girl of eight, was talking charge of the youngest, a child of three years; while the mother and elder sister were plying their needles most assiduously: the old grandmother was knitting socks, habit and pliant fingers supplying the want of those sightless eyes. The son, a stout, sturdy boy of twelve, who worked for a farmer year, was now at home for a day or two, having hurt his foot with a scythe. As he sat with the injured limb resting upon a large, high footstool, I observed he had a book in his hand, and really I could not help smiling when I saw it was " The Lady's Book." But this time it was an old number, and borrowed. I beg your pardon, Mr. Godey, not exactly borrowed, but

my friend, on whom I made the last call, had voluntarily sent it in. Mrs. L. observed my glance, and said, pleasantly,

"It is quite a treat to have John at home for a day or two; he reads to us, and the girls say, and I think with them, that we can sew a great deal faster when listening to reading."

"It's such a nice book," said the grandmother; "why I forget my blindness and poverty for a little while. Johnny has been reading the drollest story I ever heard afore, and so like nater too. I should think the lady that wrote that ' Donation Party' had been visiting our place, or else there are more Parson. Scrantums than one."

I could see that this beautiful monthly had been like a beam of sunlight to the inmates of the little brown house, and I inwardly blest it for its kind mission.

I returned home, determined to be a subscriber as soon as my husband should return from Boston, where business detained him a week or two. I must not forget to add that, a few days after these calls, as I sat at my sewing, with the porch-door open, I heard sounds as of a slow, heavy step, and the noise of a cane upon the steps. Looking up, I saw my venerable friend, the revolutionary soldier. He seated himself at my side, and immediately commenced talking about "Deborah Samson," and the scenes of the Revolution. For two or three hours I was a delighted listener, and no less gratified seemed the old gentleman in recalling the scenes of the past and the feats of his youth. And so I have ventured to give this little sketch, entitled to notice only for its truth

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