St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1888-04-05
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY SON-IN-
LAW

DEAR HIRAM: | was very much
surprised and not little panied at the
remark you made when last saw you,
that your wife, my daughter Eliza, did
not quite measure up to you, intellec-
tually. True, you did not say it in so
many words, but that was the import
of what you did say. l am we'll aware
that advice from your wife's mother
may not be acceptable, but then l rails
ed Eliza, and having her about the
house the greater part of the time for
over eighteen years, L think l know her
to be good and true, eff do say it
as shouldn't" If you are disappoint-
ed perhaps the blame is not all Eliza's.
When you married her did you not
promise to Glove, cherish and protect
her 7" etc. Now it strikes me you have
been just little F'slack" in keeping
that vow. You did splendidly during
the honeymoon, which lasted reason
ably long, but since you settled down
to the routine of married life have you
been just as careful and devoted as yOu
ought to be In fact as you promised
to be You will say, eyes, love her
just as dearly as l ever did" Perhaps
you do, but are you not little like the
child who, coming home with a gener-
Gus slice of cake, reported, "Mrs.
Blank gave it to me-" "Did you thank
her for it 2" queried the mother. eyes
ma'am, but didn't tell her So" There
was time "you told her so" when she
did something that specially pleased
you. How long since you told Eliza
she was specially dear to you7
l understand she gets up in the
morning and builds the fires while you
take your morning nap. I didn't hear
it from the hired girl, for you don't be-
lieve in hired girls, "they spoil the
children" but heard it pretty straight.
Does Eliza carry the coal up stairs be-
sides building the fre7 If she does, l
would not be surprised if she was just
little disappointed in you. Building
fires and bringing in coal is your bust
ness, my dear son-in law-at least I'M
til you can afford to hire boy to do
the chores for you and if you neglect
it and let Eliza do your work, don't
grumble if the rooms are not warm or
the breakfast just as tastefully arrang-
ed as your mother used to have it.
You "cannot always be at home to
build fires for dinner and tea" That
is true, but who splits the kindling at
your house? Did it ever occur to you
that nice basket of kindling kept
handy is wonderful help toward hav-
ing dinner con time 2" OF course, you
are not one of those indolent, selfish
men who will sit with the feet elevat-
| ed, hat on the head, and read the daily
or the latest book, while the wife
bruises her fingers and rutfies her tenn
per in trying to split up an old pine
box with superannuated Ratchet or a
dull carving knife, but it is just posi-
BILE that you may forget to provide for
your own household. (See | Tim. Is.
How long has it been since your
wife was at concert or Lecturer You
say she don't care for these things any
more. Don't she? Why not2 Can't
leave the children But you go just as
often as you ever did, You once en-
joyed seeing her enjoy them. You
can't both go? Well, then, take your
turn in staying at home and caring for
the children while she goes. She
will say she don't want to go, but that
is because she thinks you cannot afford
| tickets for both, and she is unselfish
enough to want you to go because you
"need it in your work" Probably you
can't afford tickets for two then al
range with some of her lady friends,
while you take charge of the children
for one evening. Eliza will be much
surprised, and perhaps think you are
getting too good to live long, but it
will do her a world of good, and you
too. Taking care of the children will
be harder than any days work you
have done since you sawed wood
Saturdays-On your fathers wOOdpile,
but you will sleep we'll after it; the
sleep that comes from having clear
conscience, a conscience void of offence
toward God-and your wife.
Then, | am told you are in the habit
of accepting invitations to dine, and
when the time comes you go for your
self and Eliza too. Eat the dinner for
both, | suppose. For shame! Don't
YOU suppose Eliza likes turkey and
cranberry sauce as we'll as you2 |
don't see how you swallow Il good dim
ner or supper and enjoy it when you
know your wife would like to be there
so much. But you can't both go ?
Children too much troubles Then
stay at home with her and them, or
else arrange with some one to keep the
children occasionally while you and
your wife go out to dine, as in the
honeymoon days. Give her a chance
to see society little, to know what is
going on; she gets hungry for q
glimpse of life and loses heart by the
constant routine of all work and no
play.
But you say "she seems satisfied"
Because she must. Three or four
children keep her heart and hands
pretty we'll employed, but she needs a
change occasionally. You say, don't
see why she should want other compa
ny than mine. Now, don't, l beg of
you! Eliza may have very exalted
idea of your ability from an intellec-
tual standpoint; and as an entertainer
you are, no doubt, IL success, but don't
compel her to subsist entirely on the
intellectual food that you can supply,
nor claim that you are all the society
she needs. Hiram, you are a very nice
man and very good company, so some
of the ladies say, and | shall not stop
to argue that point at all but you
have read, perhaps, of the man who
made a bet that he could eat quail
three times a day for thirty days. The
story goes that at the end of the tenth
day the mans stomach arose and cast
out the quail. Quail is good, but the
intellectual as we'll as the physical
stomach will grow tired of even the
dantiest food if taken as diet.
Suppose, to test the matter of your
wife's intellectual and social needs,
you take her place for one month only.
When the invitation to dine comes,
you keep the children and let her go.
When that noted lecturer or singer
comes you shut yourself up with those
children yours as well as hers and