Chapter 11

And here I will digress a moment to make a single remark on a subject
of which popular feeling, in America, under the influence of popular
habits, is apt to take an exparte view. Accomplishments are derided as
useless, in comparison with what is considered household virtues. The
accomplishment of a cook is to make good dishes; of a seamstress to
sew well, and of a lady to possess refined tastes, a cultivated mind, and
agreeable and intellectual habits. The real VIRTUES of all are the same,
though subject to laws peculiar to their station; but it is a very different
thing when we come to the mere accomplishments. To deride all the
refined attainments of human skill denotes ignorance of the means of
human happiness, nor is it any evidence of acquaintance with the
intricate machinery of social greatness and a lofty civilization. These
gradations in attainments are inseparable from civilized society, and if
the skill of the ingenious and laborious is indispensable to a solid
foundation, without the tastes and habits of the refined and cultivated, it
never can be graceful or pleasing.

{exparte = should be "ex parte"--one-sided (Latin)}

Eudosia had some indistinct glimmerings of this fact, though it was not
often that she came to sound and discriminating decisions even in
matters less complicated. In the present instance she saw this truth only
by halves, and that, too, in its most commonplace aspect, as will appear
by the remark she made on the occasion.

"Then, Clara, as to the PRICE I have paid for this handkerchief," she
said, "you ought to remember what the laws of political economy lay
down on such subjects. I suppose your Pa makes you study political
economy, my dear?"

"Indeed he does not. I hardly know what it means."

"Well, that is singular; for Pa says, in this age of the world, it is the only
way to be rich. Now, it is by means of a trade in lots, and political
economy, generally, that he has succeeded so wonderfully; for, to own
the truth to you, Clara, Pa hasn't always been rich."

"No?" answered Clara, with a half-suppressed smile, she knowing the
fact already perfectly well.

"Oh, no--far from it--but we don't speak of this publicly, it being a sort
of disgrace in New York, you know, not to be thought worth at least
half a million. I dare say your Pa is worth as much as that?"

"I have not the least idea he is worth a fourth of it, though I do not
pretend to know. To me half a million of dollars seems a great deal of
money, and I know my father considers himself poor--poor, at least, for
one of his station. But what were you about to say of political
economy? I am curious to hear how THAT can