The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1859-04-28

dll! u c'I,'tai COOS, shlu ANY,
I'VE are obliged to study economy
somewhat, and so | am my own
houSCmaid.
"Ihcn you don't belong to the rose
leaf sort Of ladies, who think it hor
rible to touch their white fingers to
cooking untenSil"
mo, indccd' she said, opening her
blue eyes in astoniShment. at keeps
me healthy and happy; and as Charles
has to work hard in the town all day,
it is only fair that should do my part
in the house,
"Many are foolish enough to think
such things below them," he said, with
a sign.
81 DON'T she said, smiling. "lthinh
nothing below me that heIpsto make
my husband happier, or TO brighten
my home"
1t was u simple little saying, but
Maynard pondercd on it long. Was
it the secret Of household blissl
lie looked at her little ciagcg of
wcIiaciccicd boohs--thc guitar and
pile OF music in the corncr-thc ex.
Quisile drawings hanging on the wall.
which WiIiord proudly told him were
Amy's own--thc pine cone temples
and moSs-baskcts, and little womanlv
triIies she had amused herself with
the bits Of cmbroidcry--lhc stand of
grapiums and hclio,rope--cven to the
piled up work baSkct--and thought
within himself how true woman
graccs and gloritics everything on
which her hand may rest
Finally, she came in from the
bright kitchen beyond, the white
apron exchanged for q TIMER one Of
black silk, and set down by the table
to work, every now and then adjoin-
ing in the converse with zcSt and
spirit that seemed the life Of the
whole. How proud WilCord was Of
her! how hc appealed to her judg,
ment on every occasion! and how
tondiy his eyes rested on her blooming
face. She wasn't cmhroidcring web
like muslin; She wasn't doing crotchet-
Worn; she was just darning her hus-
bands stockings; and as the shining
needle cleaned in and out among the
intcrlacing warp and wool, Maynard
thought ho had never seen n prelticr
or more graceful employment.
For Amy brought spirit and soul
TO her homely work that would have
made the coarcst fabric bright with
the tints Of Persian Ioomsl
and when at length Maynard took
his leave, the reflection, "what hap
ny fellow Wilford isl" was accompa.
nicd with something very like q sigh.
His home was different, far.
lie brcaktasted alone the next
morning-his wife had been out late
at a ball, and seldom rose before
eleven. The coffee was cold and
muddy, even in the silver urn; the
toast was burned, and the steak sod
den and raw; the fire snouldcrcd
away under its accumulation ofashes.
and he read the morning paper alone
with no bright iacc opposite to share
his interest in each paragraph.
The button was Off his wristband,
but TO matter. Clara must not be
disturbed-.he could just pin it over
for to.day-his toes perped through
his stockings, as he changed his slip
pers for boots, but never mind, he
would ask Clara tonight where the
others were. Pshaw! he could not tie
the cravat TO suit him. and draggIcd il
into a limp knot-there was no little
wife to stand on tip toe and arrange
| it, and then get kiss for her pains!
| lie went silently away, with nc
light footsteps tripping after him to
the door; the shadow of no sweet
goodbye" following him like guar
dian angel on his way-ior Clara was
a fashionable wilel
At dinner time he came home, hall
hoping that there would be glance
and a smile like Amy's to greet him
a homo influence around his luxurious
apartments.
Where's Claral
Sac lounged on damask sofa. the
rings flashing on her slender fingers,
and her delicate figure arrayed in lus.
trous silk, while the slippered foot