The loyal Georgian., 1866-03-17
HAPPY AT HOME.

stream or lie, shows very pialuly which
way the tide sets. And when Mrs.
Parnle says with a groan, lily husband
never spends his evenings at home, it is
natural to inquire within ones self why
it is that Mr. Purple finds other resorts
SO much more attractive than the house,
hold altar.
Il don't see why he can't be a little
more domestic says Mrs. Purple
WE'LL why is it? There is reason
Tor everything in the world say ohiloso.
piers, and there must be a reason for
this.
In the first place, Mrs. Purple is one
of those unfortunate housekeepers whose
work is never done There is always
something dragging, room to be swept,
lamps to be trimmed, fretful babies to be
put to sleep, while one eye is on the
boiling meat aud the other on the muddy
foot print uhwittingly left by Mr., Purple
on the doorstep. There Purple, l
knew just how it would be. | wonder
| you know the use OF scraper or a
door-mat. | should think after all the
time I've spent IN cleaning up
And Mrs. Purple goes off into mo-
notonous recapitulatiOn of her trials and
troubles that has all the effect of lula.
by upon the baby, however trying it may
be to the feelings of the baby's father
Moreover, Mrs. Purple, with all her
cleaning up does not underst nd ele>
mentary principles of keeping house
neat Things are always round in the
way; table covers rut on awry; dust
and ashes under the crate; curtains torn
away from their fastenings and pinn d
up until Mrs, Puryle eau find time to
rejust them. Somehow it looks forlorn,
and desolute, and unhomelike when the
master of the house comes in at night.
Nr, Purple, man-like, can't tell where
the detection lies-he don't analyze the
chill that comes over his heart as he
crosses the threshold-he ouiy knows
that things don't look ship-shape.' And
20 he takes his hat when his wife's back
is turned and sueakes ANONYMOUSLY of,
glad to get away from the dead>alive fire,
the dusty room, and Mrs Puppies tongue.
Who can blame the man? Mr.. Purple
may be lazy, and careless, very likely he
is-most men have tendency that way
- but nevertheless he don't like to ne
told of it over and over again, in that per-.
sistent, illogical sort of way hat reminds
you of an old hen running from side to
side IN her coop, and poking her head
through the bars in the same place every
seven seconds Mr. Purple naturally
wonders why his wife don't occasionally
aIlude to the few good qualities he hap
pers to possess. Mr. Purple has every
lnclnat on TO be happy at home, if his
better half would only give him
chance.
Of all the sweetly tinted pictures of
domestic happiness that we find in the
pages Of Hol Writ, there Is none that
suggests more quiet comfort than Abra-
ham sitting in b tent door in the heat
of the day under the shadow of the palm
trees of Nam e. Depend upon it, the
good old patriarch never S ent his eve.
nngs away from home. He didn't be-
lieve in just going across the plain TO
Lots house, or runnin( to SOdom to hear
the tews No, Abraham liked to sit
quietl by mis- tent door, and very likely
Mrs. Sarah would come and lean over
his shoulder aud chat with him after the
Oriental fashion We have the very best
of testimony for knowing that she was
very amiabe under the ordeal of unex.
pected company, when the calf tender
and good was dressed, and the three
measures of fne meal baked on the
hearth.
The idea of looking beyond the sphere
of home for enjoyment is at the root of
many of our modern evils. Home >bould
be the ve'y centre aud sanctuary of happi-
ness; and when it is not, there is some
screw loose iii the domestic machinery
lfyou want to surround young man
with the best possible safeguards don't
overwhe' m him with maxims and homo
lies as to what he is an is not to do, but
make his home happy in the evenings
Let bin learn that however hard and
cruel the Inside world may b., he is al
ways sure Of sympathy and consideration
i'll one place. Woe betide the man. what.
ever his lot or position, who has III his
heart of hearts 10 memory of a home
where the sunshine never faded out and
the voices were always sweet, Were hu
as rich as Rothschlld, he is d poor man.
Daily Wing and ourier.
F." can't never crossed the Alps or
raised au ear of corn.