News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1884-06-05
A DOMESTIC SKETCH.
HOW To CORRECT HUSBANDS FAULTS

you go to drawer. What do you want?
Tell me, and I'll get it for you"
Mrs. Jones springs to the side of her
husband, who was gone to the bureau
for something, and pushes him away.
''There now Just look at the hurrah's
nest you have made What do you want,
Mr.. Jones ?'
The husband throws an angry look
upon his wife, mutters something that
she cannot understand, and then turns
away and leaves the room.
''It is too bad - scolds Mrs. Jones, to
herself, commencing the work of re-
storing to order the drawer that her hus-
band has thrown topsy-turvy.
fI never saw such a man He has
no kind of order about him; and then,
if speak word, he goes off in a huff.
But won't have my things for ever in
confusion"
In the mean time, Mr.. Jones, in pet,
leaves the house, and goes to his store
without clean pocket-handkerchief for
which he had been in search. Half of
the afternoon passes before he gets over
the Ill humOr, and then he does not feel
happy. Mrs. Jones is by no means COM
Portable in mind. She is really sorry
that she spoke so roughly, although she
does not acknowledge, even to herself,
that she has done wrong, for, every now
and then, she utters some censure
against the careless habits that were
really annoying and inexcusable. They
had been married five years, and all that
time Mrs. Jones had complained, but to
no good purpose. Sometimes the hus-
band 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 SOP"
said Mrs. Jones, on the evening of the |
same day. .'You are the most trying
man alive.
''Pity you hadn't chance to try
another" retorted Mr.. Jones, sarcastic
ally.
The offense given was careless over
turning of Mrs. Jones's work basket, and
the scattering of needles, cottons, scis-
sors, wax, and a dozen little etceteras
about the floor.
The reply of Mr.. Jones hurt his wife.
1t seemed unkind. He had brought
home a new book, which he had in
tended reading; but the face of Mrs.
Jones locked so grave after the over
turning of the basket, that he felt
no disposition to read to her, but con-
fenced himself with enjoying the book
himself
Tt must be said that Mr. Jones was a
very trying man indeed; as his wife had
alleged. He could open closets and
drawers as handily as any one, but the
thought of shutting either, never en-
tered his mind The frequent reproofs
of his wife, such as
"Had you any doors In the house
where you were raised ?" or,
'sPlease to shut the drawer, will you.
Mr.. Jones? ?" or,
"You are the most disorderly man in
existence" or,
s'You are enough to try the patience
of a saint, Mr.. Jones, produced no ef-
feet. In fact, Mr.. Jones seemed to grow
worse and worse every day instead of
better. The natural habits of order
and regularity which his life possessed,
were not respected in the least degree.
He drew his boots off in the parlor, and
left them in the middle of the floor, put
his hat on the piano, instead of hanging
it on the rack in the passage-tumbled
her drawers whenever he went to them
left his shaving apparatus on the dress
ing table or bureau-splashed the water
about, and spoiled the wall pSuer in
washing, and in spite of all that cor Id be
said to him, would neglect to take the
soap out Of the basin-spattering every
thing round him with backing when he
brushed his boots-and did hundred
other careless things, that gave his wife
world of trouble, annoyed her sorely,
end kept her scolding him nearly all
the time. This scolding worried him
good deal, but it never for a moment
made him think seriously about reform
ing his bad habits.
One day he came in to dinner. It was
hot day. He went up into the cham
Der where his wife was sitting, and
threw himself into large rocking chair;
took off his hat and tossed it over upon
tie bed right in the midst of half a
dozen lace collars, newly done up; and
kicked off his boots with such energy
that one of them landed upon the bu-
reau, and the other in the clothes
basket, soiling white dress just from
the ironing table. Poor Mrs. Jones was
prievousIy tried. The husband expect
ed a storm, but no storm broke. He
looked at his wife as she lifted his hat
from the bed and put it on the mantel-
piece, and took his boots and put them
in a closet, from which she brought oat
his slippers and placed them beside him,
but did not understand the expression of
her face exactly, nor feel comfortable
about it. Mrs. Jones did not seem
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 half an hour at the
ironing table, and attempted to remove
the dirt that the boots had left upon it.
But she tried in vain. The pure white
muslin was hopelessly soiled, and would
have to go into the washing tub before
it would again be fit to wear.
eff you knew, Henry" she said, in a
voice that touched her husbands feel
ines, as she laid aside the dress, chow
much trouble you give me, sometimes,
am sure you would be more particular. F"
"Do I really give you much trouble,