The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1859-07-30

, nard could rot help complImenlIng the cdi
, bIes, He didn't get any such at the rcspu
rant where be lunohcd, and hi, viie's lrisi
kitchen crops bad nm altogether different
idea Of things,
"oh," said Amy laughing, Il made then
, myselGH
did your he looked at her half anu
sed, II did not know ladies ever employed
themselves nov days"
81 am capital cook" said Amy I'VE
are Obliged to study economy somewhat, aud
so am my own bousrmail,"
"Thou you don't belong to thr rosc-lcof
sort Of ladies who think il horrible 10 touch
their white fingers TO cooking utensll2"
mo, indeed" she said. opening her b,ue
eyes in astoni'hment 1T keeps me healthy
aud happy, and as Charles has to work hard
in the store all day, Il is only fair that
should do my part"
"Many are foolish enough 70 think surh
things below them" be said. almost with a
sigh
81 don't" she said, smiling, 81 think no.
thing below me that helps 10 make my hus,
band happier. or to brighten my home"
II was simple liIle saying, but Maynard
pondered upon Il long, Was It the secret
Of household bliss'
tie looked a, her little efargs " well Nc.
leetcd books--the guitar and the pile Of mu.
sic ia the corncr-thc exquisite drawings on
the wall, which Wilford told him we're Amyt
owp-the pine cone temples and moss bas.
kets and little womanly trdcs she had auu.
scd herself with-lhc bits OF embroidery
the stand Of geraniums and heliotropc-cy
the piled up wurk basket-aud thought with.
ln himself how true woman gtaccs
and glorifics every thing on which her hand
may rest.
Finally she came in from the kitchen be.
,ond, the white apron changed Tor thinner
one Of black silk, and sat down hy the table
TO work, every npw and thea joining in the
conversation with zest and spirit that seemed
the life Of the whole How proud Wiford
~ss Of her. How he appealed to her judg,
mcnt on every occasion, and how fundly hi,
Ycs rested on her blooming face. she
WIS not doing crochet work. she was not cm,
hroiderug vcb-,ike muslin, sho,w wa, Jus,
darniug her husbands stockings, and as the
shining needle CLEANED in and out among
ihc imcrhcug warp aud woof NbAnotd
thought he had never seen O prc,,irr OF more
graceful employment
For Amy brought a spirit and soul to her
homely work tina, would have made the I.
coarscs; fabric bright with ;he tint Of Persian
looms
And when at length Maynard took hi, .
lgaAG i6r. rE0eelon. What happy fellow .
different, far.
lie brcakfastcd alone the next morning !
his wife had been out late At ball, and sell
dom rose until eleven o'clock. The coffee !
was cold and muddy, even in the frosted sill
yer urn, the toast was burned and the steak
>olden and raw, the fire smoudcrcd away
under its accumulation Of ashes, aud he read
the morning paper alone, With no bright face
opposite to share his interest in each para
graph. The button was of his wristhand,
but no matter, Clara must not he disturbed
-hr could just pin it over FOR the day his
toes peepcd through his stockings as he
changed slippers for boots but never mind,
he would ask Clara tonight where the others
were Pshaw, he could not tie the cravatto
suit him, and dragged it into limp knot
there was no little wife to stand on tip-toe
and arrange il, and then get kiss for her
pains.
lie went silently away, with no light foot
steps tripping after him to the door, the
shadow Of no sweet goodbye following him
like guardian angel on his way--for Clara
was a fashionable wife.
| At dinner time he came home, hall hoping
that there would be glance and a smile like
Amy's to greet him-a home influence
around his luxurious apartments.
"Whcre's Clara 9'
She lnnnged on damask sofa the rings
! flashing on her slender fingers, and her deli
cate figure arrayed in folds Of lustrous silk
while the slippered foot, peeping from be-
meath, seemed fit only to tread 5the roses of
! life. She hardly glanced up from the novel
she was reading as he cntered-why should
she he was only her husband.
. lie sat down, and began drumming care
lessly on the table with his fingers.
"Isu't dinner nearly ready?"
81 don't hnow. It's the cooks business"
"But she ought 10 he more regular" said
he.
Il can't help that wish you wouldn't
plague me about such things
The tone was little pettish, as Clara
brushed away he+brown curs and resumed
her book, ana Maynard relupsed into silence
again.
Presently another idea struck him. ~
Cant you play something tonight, Cla-
raT T
The piano has not been opened in an
age. Come, sing me some Of those old