The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-08-28

tie as it bubbled joyously on the fire,
breathing out dense white vapor cloud
from its liquid lungs-until at length the
footsteps sounded below, the key turned
and clicked in the door-and he came.
But not alone. There was good deal
of excusable pride in his manner, as he
presented his fair young wife to an old
school friend, whom he had not met for
several years, and who was doing pros,
porous down town business.
1t had been casual encounter on Broad
way, such as oftentimes happens. They
had walked along together cOnversing COR
daily, till the corner was reached where
their path diverged. But their say was
not half said, and in the warmth of his
heart Wilford invited his friend "home to
tea " with him. Mr.. Maynard accepted
the offer. Six O'Clock was his own fash
ionable hour, but he did not say SO, nei-
ther did he mention that his wife was at
the matinee and probably wouldn't be at
home at present. The cordial manner of
his friend made him sigh and think of the
old times, when he had been wont to sit
down to nner just as the creeping sun
shine reached the noon mark on the old
kitchen floor, and when supper wasn't an
association of gas lights, champaign, su-
gar temples and spicy game, but quiet
meal taken just when sunset REDEEMED
the crest of the tall poplar trees on the
nil!
All! the good old times
1t was long since he had been in such
tiny unpretending room as that where he
now sat, accepting the cup Of fragrant tea
from Amy Wilford's little hand. Yet
everything was so bright, so neat, so ex-
auisitely tastetul-the fire glowed redly,
and the rosebuds in the vases gave such a
refined grace to the little blue tea-service
and the common painted waiter, that he
felt at once that he was in the atmosphere
Of home.
He never missed the silver urn, or the
/ gold-handed china of his own stately table;
never noticed that his feet did not rest
| among the velvety crimson shades of his
own Wilton carpet, nor perceived the wide
difference between Amy's linen collar and
| shilling delaine, and the Honitons and bro
cade that his fashionable helpmate wore;
but he knew that there was some charm
here which was lacking at his own hearth
stone.
1t was a genuine old-fashioned "tea -
hot biscuits, amber preserves, delicate pink
shavings of dried beef, and cake that would
make even a dyspeptic smack lis lips.
Maynard could not help complmenting the
edibles He didn't get any such at the
restaurant where he lunched, and his wifes
| Irish kitchen corps had an altogether
different idea of things
"Oh!" said Amy laughing, 81 made
them myself"
"nid you?' He looked at her half
amused. 81 did not know that ladies en-
ployed themselves now days.
Sc am capital cook, said Amy. "We
are obliged to study economy somewhat
| and so am my own house maid"
"Then you don't belong to the roseleaf
sort of ladies, who think it horrible to
touch their white fingers TO cooking uten-
silS!"
"No indeed!'' she said, opening her
eyes in astonishment. cit keeps me
healthy and happy; and as Charles has to
wo k hard in the store all day, it is only
fair that should do my parts
"Many are foolish enough to think
such things below them," he said, with
almost sigh.
Il don't she said smiling. 81 think
nothing below me that helps to make my
husband happy, or to brighten my home.
1t was simple little saying, but May
nard pondered on it long. Was it the Sc
cret of household bliss?
Finally, she came in from the kitchen
beyond, the white apron exchanged for a
timer one of black silk, and sat down by
the table to work, every now and then
joining in the conversation with zest
and spirit that seemed the life of the whole.
How proud Wilford was of her! How he
appealed to her judgment on every occa-
sion! how fondly his eyes rested on her
blooming face! She wasn't doing crotchet
work-she was darning her husbands
stockings; and as the shining needle
cleaned in and out among the interlacing
warp and wool, Maynard thought he had
never seen a prettier employment.
Amy brought spirit and soul to her
homely work that would have made the
coarsest fabric bright with the tint of Per-
sian looms.
And when at length Maynard took his
leave, the reflection, "what happy fel-
low Wilford isl" was accompanied with
something very like sigh. His home
was different far.
He breakfasted alone the next morning:
his wife had been out late at ball, and
seldom rose before elveven o'clock. The
coffee WIS cold and muddy, even in the
frosted silver urn; the toast was burned !;
and the steak was sodden and raw. The
fire smouldered away under its accumula-
tion of ashes, and he read the morning pa
pers alone, with no bright face opposite
to share his interest in each paragraph.
The buttons were off of his wristbands, but
no matter-Cara must not be disturbed !;
! he would pin them. His toes peeped