The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1889-12-12
DOMESTIC FELICITY.
A Chapter from the Book Of
Everyday Life.

temper over tne maJUer. no ANou III
pretty, Countrywide suburban village,
about forty-fve minutes ride from the
large city in which no had his place OF
business, and he was accustomed to take
this particular train every morning. Not
once in three months did such thing
happen as his being late for the train; but
on this occasion he felt like declaring
that half the time he had to rush him
self clear out of breath to reach 1t, or
else miss it. He was in that exasperated
state of mind where he wanted to blame
somebody, abuse sumebody; q state OF
mind which, in o condition OF develop
ment is little nearer the savage, would
impel to acts of cruelty toward any thing
or any person on whom anger could be
wreaked. The person on whom, in this
instance, no could most quickly and
with the least impunity cast blame was
his wife. 1t was all her fault. Why
could not she manage household affairs
SO that he could get his breakfast
earlier? He worked like slave at his
business ten hours day; he gave her
full control of tho house, and furnished
money to run it; she had servant, and
1t was pure and utter shiftlessness in
her that breakfast could not be ready in
proper time. Thus, with flashing eyes,
soliloouized Mr.. Smith, as. with anger
flushed face, he watched the train dis
appearing in the distance.
1t was a full hour and half till the
next train; it was nearly half a mile
back to Mr.. Smiths house. He paced
back and forth norvously for few min
utes on the station platform, debating
in his mind whether he should wait
for the next train or 60 back home. AS
he mused, his anger grew. He would
go home and give his wife such piece
of his mind as she would remember for
months. She should be made to feel
that it was no light matter to have break
fast five minutes late. He turned his
face homeward, and stamped heavily
along, with the air Of man determined
to do a desperate deed. His face flushed
with anger, and his eye cleaned aercely.
But, as he hastened along, somehow
or other his attention was diverted
by tho song of bird among the
trees that lined his path. He looked
up involuntarily. How brightly the sun
was shining; how blue the sky was;
how balmy and fragrant the air; how
peaceful every thing appeared as he
looked off through the green spaces on
eithor side of the village street! The
treos were putting forth their tenderest
green; so was tho grass. He noticed
the fragrance of the crab-apple and wild
plum blossoms; he distinguished the
peculiar strain of bird he used to hear
in boyhood. 1t was the wood-thrush.
He had listened to that bird when, years
ago, he had walked in the meadows and
lanes with the pretty, shy young girl
whom his heart was then bent on win
ming for his wife. She was his wife
now. She was the mother of three rosy,
active children; they were his and hers.
She was not as pretty now as she was
| then; she was thin and careworn. Tho
plump rosiness and merry smile were,
for the most part, gone. But what q
good, true wife she had been to him!
How her economy and faithfulness had
helped him in getting the start he now
had in the world! How little she saw Of
the outside world, or Of diverting pleas
ures! How self-denying and uncom-
planning she had been, and what de-
voted mother to their children! And on
that bright, sunshiny morning he had
been thinking hard thoughts Of her, and
mcditating what sharp, cutting words
he could say to her--and all for trivial
| little loss of an hour from business!
Mr.. Smiths pace slackened; his coun-
tenance relaxed; his heart me tied. On
such morning he could not, would not,
by harsh words mar the harmony and
beauty of the sunshine and birds and
the green things growing. No; If he
could not speak kindly he would hold
his peace.
AS Mr.. Smith neared his home he felt
u certain shrinking from meeting his
wife directly. He almost feared he
might bctray on his countenance some
of the harsh thoughts he had been
thinking. So no went around the side
of the house and entered tho kitchen
door. Bridget was standing with a per-
picked and exasperated expression on
her face looking into the kitchen stove,
in which smoldered dark, dying fire.
"What is the matter, Bridget?"
Faith, sur, it's the stove that breaks
me heart intirely. The crate is broken
and the stovepipo smokes, and whin
sthrive to make quick fire here's the
way 1t serves me-"
"Wcll, Bridget, believe 1t is all my
fault. Your mistress has asked me
many times to bring new CRATE from
tho city and also to send man to clear
out the stovopipe and chimney. Twill
put this down in ny notebook ant
bring tho now crate this evening, ant
Pat McFlynn, tho tinnor, shall be sen
ri8htup this niorning 20 clean and FL
the pipe"
"'ja, thanls 70, sur!' said Bridget
wiih bri a.n2alng countonancc. "AnS
cpril i'at ilx the ciythcrn, too? Th'
plvmp has bocn broker. long tonne ant
l.,arpr mo back II, ~ worx and breaks
| -. N AZ ulf.n.t.r W.. lll.. Vid a rome"