considered a perfect Zantippe, by the whole city; no servant could remain with her, for she brawled and blustered about the house like a noisy ghost. The servants feared the rattle of her keys as children do the bugbear Rupert; the least neglect, or even only her own wicked tempers, cups and pots must compensate for; or she would arm her robust hands with a bunch of keys, and beat the servants on the back and loins black and blue; in short, if anybody wanted to describe a wicked woman, he said, she is as mischievous as Dame Trube at the county court. One day she had carried her punishments to such a violent height, that all her servants ran away; and just at this time the gentle Matilda arrived and offered herself for service. To conceal her elegant shape, she had padded one shoulder as if she were deformed; a broad headcloth concealed her beautiful silken hair, and she had spread over her hands and face with soot, to affect a gipsyish skin. When she rang the door-bell, and announced herself, Dame Gertrude put her head out of the window, and perceiving this odd figure, she thought it was a beggar, and called out, “This is no almonry, go to Jacob Fugger’s almshouses, there farthings are distributed,” and then she hastily shut the window. Miss Matilda would not let this deter her; she rang long, till the housekeeper again appeared, intending to requite her importunity with a torrent of scoldings. But before she could open her toothless mouth, the maiden made known to her her wishes. “Who art thou,” asked Dame Gertrude, “and what canst thou do?” The pretended servant answered,—
“A poor young orphan maid am I,
Matilda named in infancy.
I can iron, crimp, and sew,
Spin and weave each varied hue,
Knit and net, and cut, and pound,
Roast and boil, and salt the round;
A skilful hand in every art,
Alert and active as a hart.”
When the housekeeper heard these words, and perceived that the nut-brown maiden possessed so many useful talents, she opened the door, gave her the fee penny, and led her into the kitchen. She managed her employments so well that Dame Gertrude quite lost her habit of throwing pots at her servants. Although she always continued severe and sulky, and would blame everything, and wish it better done; still she never met with opposition or retort from the maiden, who defended herself only by meekness and patience against her bitterness. She was better and more bearable than she had been for many years;—a proof that good servants and good management, as well as good weather, make good and well-conducted governors. At the time of the first snow, the housekeeper had the house cleaned and swept, the windows washed, the curtains put up, and everything prepared for the reception of her lord, who arrived with a numerous train of
