Year: 1870




1t is no fiction that I sit down to my desk
to chronicle his evening. As l look back
through the long vista of years, and re-
view the early days of my married life, its
perpleXities and cares come up before me
in far more vivid colors than its joys /;
though the retrospect often provokes a
laugh where the real experience caused
bitter tears.


1 was just twenty years old when 1 be-
came the wife of a clergyman, poor coun-
try pastor. 1t was love match, and, with
the usual thriftlessness of lovers, 1 think
it did not then occur TO us that we could
not live upon love, or that it would need
such vulgar appliances as roast beef and
palatable puddings to preserve in its puri-
ty, the divine essence of the grand passion.


Everybody said that was totally unfit
for minister's wife. l was, naturally, ex-
ceedingly joyous and mirthful, and with
out particle of the staid dignity expected
from persons in my position; while my
husband was grave, thoughtful man, en-
dowed by nature with a commanding per-
sonal appearance and prepossessing man
ners. I do not wonder now that people
could not see the propriety of his choosing
me for his wife, when so many pattern wo-
men stood ready to accept him. My own
family had but one objection to the match;
he was poor, and had no idea of practical
housekeeping.


All how well remember the first wash
ing day My husband after vainly trying
to persuade me to employ washerwoman
I knew he could not afford it-came into
the back kitchen to help me himself. We
were very merry at first, but after rubbing
off little patches of skin from every knuck-
lie, and burning our arms till they looked
like illustrated maps of some unknown
country, we began to find out that there
was little poetry, and no fun in the wash
tub.


But the ironing day was worse yet.
Nothing but pride kept me from rolling
those starched shirts into bundle and
taking them across the fields to my moth
er's kitchen. forgot to mention that we
had taken up our abode in parish, but
one mile distant from my fathers house.


had never ironed any starched clothes
of any description; but from my brothers
at home had imbibed very exalted ideas
in regard to the importance of immaculate
shirt bosoms. My husband told me all he
could remember of his mothers method,
and then betook himself to his study.
Shall ever forget my feeling when the
fiat-iron, heated seven times hotter than its
wont, and carefully applied to the glutin-
Gus surface suddenly struck up an attach
ment for the same, and, when forcibly sepa-
rated left its whole image and superscription
behind in black and brown colors! have
| that shirt now. I keep it to show to those
wise mothers who are training their daugh-
| ters for future usefulness.


But it was in cooking that l found my
chief trouble. All my attempts in that
line, at the time commenced housekeep-
ing, had resulted in spelling several kinds
of rich cake concocted in accord
ance with those impossible receipts which
| fill our modern cookery books. / had new
or made loaf of bread in my life. Bak-
| er's bread served us for a time-for so long
a time, indeed, that we found out all its
| good qualities, and have not tested its ex-
cellencies for many years.


We had been married and settled nearly
fortnight when, one morning, my hus-
band came in with a letter in his hand and
a very anxious expression on his race.
sprang up from my seat, nearly upsettinp
the breakfast table, which was waiting fol
him.


"What is the matter, Frank Is any
body sick--or dead? Have you got baC
news?"


mo. At least it ought not to be bat
news"


"Well, what is it9 Something serious
know from your looks"


"No, Hattie nothing of the kind. Onl.
feared it might annoy you. 1t is only
note from my college chum, Fred Knowles
saying that he is going to Boston, and wi
call on us, and-and-get his dinner Ia
day." said my husband reluctantly.


1t was my first call to entertain compa
ny, and knowing by this time my ignor
ance, l shrank back affrighted from tn
prospect. confess, too, feeling of dee
modification that my husband could no
receive his most intimate friends withor
80 serious drawback upon his pleasure
All my natural energy and pride wa
aroused, and l determined to become
good practical housekeeper at whatev'
cost of time and labor. But the preseI
emergency was first to be attended to.


II"I suppose had better lget some fres
> loaves from the bakery?" Frank locke
at the dry, light slices on the breakfast Il


BILE as he spoke.


"Yes. / think so. And somo mea
Hattie. That forlorn old roast has lasted
! fortnight, 1 am sure. | should recognii
its bones if saw them in Africa. Do yc
] tn ink you could broil a steak, Halter