Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-09-11
For IL uSbagRds and Wives.
How 10 Correct a Husbands Fault
A DOMESTIC sKErcn-BY FANNY RAY

~ ~ ~ - CH@ - 49,
What do you wan?-TeIl me! I will get it for
you
Mrs. Jones springs to the side of her hus-
band, who has gone to the bureau for something,
and pushes him away.
There, now! Just look at the burra's nest
you have made. What do you want Mr.. Jones?
The husband throws an angry look upon his
wifc-mutters something she cannot understand,
and then turns away and leaves the room.
1T is too bad! scolds Mrs. Jones to herself,
commencing the work Of restoring to order the
drawer that her husband has thrown all topsy
turvy. 4 never saw such man! lie has no
kind of order about him; and then if | speak a
word, he goes of in a huff. But | wont have
my things forever in confusion
In the mean time, Mr.. Jones, in a pet, leaves
the house, and goes to the store without the
clean pocket handkerchief, for which he has
been in search. Half of the afternoon passes be-
fore he gets over his i'll humor, and then he does
not feel happy. Mrs, Jones is by no means in
comfortable mind. She is really sorry that she
spoke SO roughly, although she does not &C
knowledge, even to herself, that she has. done
wrong, for every now and then she utters, half
aloud, some censure against the careless habits
Of her husband, habits that we're really annoying
and inexcusable. They had been married about
five years, and al! that time Mrs. Jones had com-
planned, but to no good purpose. Sometimes
the husband would get angry, and sometimes he
would laugh at his wife; but he made no effort
to reform himself
Mr.. Jones, why will you do sol said Mrs.
Jones on the evening of the same day, You
are the most trying man alive
Pity you hadn't a chance to try another re-
torted Mr.. Jones, sarcasticaIIy.
The offence given was a careless overturning
of Mrs. Jones work-basket, and the scattering
of the needles, cotton, scissors, wax, and a doz-
en- little ct cetsras on the floor.
The reply of Mr.. Jones hurt his wife. 1t SEEM
ed unkind. He had brought home anew book,
which he intended reading, but the face of Mrs.
Jones looked so grave aft" the overturning Of
the work basket, that he felt no disposition to
read to her, but contented himself with enjoying
the book himself.
It must be said that Mr.. Jones was a very
trying man indeed, as his wife had alledged.-
lie could open closets and drawers as handily
as any one, but the thought Of shutting either
never entered his mind. The frequent rcproots
of his wife, such as-'Iiad you any doors in the
house where you were raisedP Please to shut
that drawer, will you, Air, Jones! or you are
the most dIsorderIy man in existence, or you are
enough to try the patience Of a saint, Mr.. Jones,
produced no effect. In fact, Mr.. Jones appear
ed TO grow worse and worse every day, instead OF
better. The natural habits of order and regular
ity which his wife possessed, were not respected
in the least degree. He drew off his boots in
the parlor, and left them in the middle of the
floor, put his hat on the piano, instead Of hang
ing it on the rack in the passage; he tumbled her
drawers when he went to them, left his shaving
apparatus on the dressing table or bureau, splash
ed the water about and soiled the wall paper in
washing, and in spite Of all that could be said to
him, would neglect to take the soap out Of the
basin, s%pattered every thing with backing when
he brushed his boots, and did a hundred other
careless things, and gave his wife a world of trou-
bic, annoyed her sorely, and kept her scolding
at him nearly all the time. This scolding wor-
ried him a good deal, but it never, for a single
moment made him think seriously about reform
ing his bad habits.
One day he came in to dinner. 1t was a hot
day. He went up into the chamber where his
wife was sitting and threw himself into a large
rocking chair, took off his hat and tossed it over
upon the bed right in the midst Of half a dozen
lace collars newly done up, and kicked of his
boots with such energy that one of them landed
upon the bureau aud the other in the clothes
basket, soiling a white dress just from the ron
ing table. Poor Mrs. Jones was grievously
tried. The husband expected IA storm, but no
storm broke. He looked at his wife as she lift
ed his hat from the bed and put it upon the
mantle-piece, and took his boots and put them
in the closet, from which she brought out his
slippers and placed them beside him, and did not
understand the expression of her face exactly, or
feel comfortable about it. Mrs. Jones did not
feel angry, but hurt. After she had handed him
his slippers, she took the soiled dress from the
clothes basket, over which she had spent nearly
an hour at the ironing-table, and attempted to
remove the dirt that the boot had left upon it.
But she tried in vain. The pure white muslin
was hopelessly solIed, and would have to 60 into
the washing-tub before it would again be fit to
wear.
"If you knew, Henry" she said, in a voice
that touched her husbands feelings, as she laid
aside the dress, chow much trouble you give
ma, sometimes, am sure you would be more
PARTICULAR
ado really give you so much trouble, janet"
Mr.. Jones asked, as if a new idea had broken
in upon his mind. 81 am sure ] am sorry for it.
'indecd you do. If you would only be moro
thoughtful you would save me a great deal. |
shall have to wash out this dress myself, now,
for the washerwoman has gone, and | can't trust
Sally with it, spent nearly an hour in ironing
it to day, hot as it is"
81 am very sorry, indeed, Jane. 1t was a
careless trick in me, | must confess; if you will
forgive me nromise not to offend again"