Maria Mitchell: Life, Letters, and Journals | Page 6

it,
so a dear old Friend and neighbor came to deal with him. Now, to be
"under dealings," as it is called, was a very serious matter,--to be
spoken of only under the breath, in a half whisper.
"I hear that thee has a piano in thy house," said the old Friend.
"Yes, my daughters have," was the reply.
"But it is in thy house," pursued the Friend.
"Yes; but my home is my children's home as well as mine," said Mr.
Mitchell, "and I propose that they shall not be obliged to go away from
home for their pleasures. I don't play on the piano."
It so happened that Mr. Mitchell held the property of the "monthly
meeting" in his hands at the time, and it was a very improper thing for
the accredited agent of the society to be "under dealings," as Mr.
Mitchell gently suggested.
This the Friend had not thought of, and so he said, "Well, William,
perhaps we'd better say no more about it."
When the father came home after this interview he could not keep it to
himself. If it had been the mother who was interviewed she would have
kept it a profound secret,--because she would not have liked to have her
children get any fun out of the proceedings of the old Friend. But Mr.
Mitchell told the story in his quiet way, the daughters enjoyed it, and
declared that the piano was placed upon a firm foothold by this
proceeding. The news spread abroad, and several other young Quaker
girls eagerly seized the occasion to gratify their musical longings in the
same direction. [Footnote: It is pleasant to note that this objection to
music among Friends is a thing of the past, and that the Friends' School
at Providence, R.I., which is under the control of the "New England
Yearly Meeting of Friends," has music in its regular curriculum.]

Few women with scientific tastes had the advantages which surrounded
Miss Mitchell in her own home. Her father was acquainted with the
most prominent scientific men in the country, and in his hospitable
home at Nantucket she met many persons of distinction in literature
and science.
She cared but little for general society, and had always to be coaxed to
go into company. Later in life, however, she was much more socially
inclined, and took pleasure in making and receiving visits. She could
neither dance nor sing, but in all amusements which require quickness
and a ready wit she was very happy. She was very fond of children, and
knew how to amuse them and to take care of them. As she had half a
dozen younger brothers and sisters, she had ample opportunity to make
herself useful.
She was a capital story-teller, and always had a story on hand to divert
a wayward child, or to soothe the little sister who was lying awake, and
afraid of the dark. She wrote a great many little stories, printed them
with a pen, and bound them in pretty covers. Most of them were
destroyed long ago.
Maria took her part in all the household work. She knew how to do
everything that has to be done in a large family where but one servant
is kept, and she did everything thoroughly. If she swept a room it
became clean. She might not rearrange the different articles of furniture
in the most artistic manner, but everything would be clean, and there
would be nothing left crooked. If a chair was to be placed, it would be
parallel to something; she was exceedingly sensitive to a line out of the
perpendicular, and could detect the slightest deviation from that rule.
She had also a sensitive eye in the matter of color, and felt any lack of
harmony in the colors worn by those about her.
Maria was always ready to "bear the brunt," and could at any time be
coaxed by the younger children to do the things which they found
difficult or disagreeable.
The two youngest children in the family were delicate, and the special
care of the youngest sister devolved upon Maria, who knew how to be a

good nurse as well as a good playfellow. She was especially careful of
a timid child; she herself was timid, and, throughout her life, could
never witness a thunder-storm with any calmness.
On one of those occasions so common in an American household,
when the one servant suddenly takes her leave, or is summarily
dismissed, Miss Mitchell describes her part of the family duties:
"Oct. 21, 1854. This morning I arose at six, having been half asleep
only for some hours, fearing that I might not be up in time to get
breakfast, a task which I had volunteered to do the preceding evening.
It was but