It was the same in the domestic department; there was
not even a dish washer or a clothes wringer, and the most extensive and
valuable aid in the laundry was a pounding barrel in which the soiled
clothes were placed and put under discipline.
There was enough reason and brave common sense among the people to
ponder on the condition of things as I have presented them to you. The
outlook was not encouraging. I cannot remember the order in which some
of the events came to pass which I am to narrate, but the order is
unimportant. Certainly there were Association meetings in which
prospects were talked over and counsel was demanded and taken from one
and another. Unfortunately for this story I was not at them. Doubtless
I was in the quiet of the Eyry, dreaming daylight dreams, musing and
listening to Fanny Dwight's deft piano playing, while she was filling
me with the mysteries of Schubert and Mendelssohn and Beethoven, or
else wandering about the farm, with no special aim but to find rest and
enjoyment in my leisure hours. These meetings were serious, grave and
often protracted. There were some who thought matters could be better
managed. This is not strange, for it is always so. There were those who
thought that some, particularly among the earlier members, though not
absolutely non-producers, should be turned off or made more productive;
but this was difficult to do.
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