626 



" PUTTING TO RIGHTS." 



m 



" OK! had I leisure to sigh and mourn, 

 Fanny dearest, forthee I'd sigh !" MOORE. 



Is any one fond of variety ? let him marry I speak it oracularly, and 

 in full defiance of the generally received opinion of the dull monotony of 

 the marriage life. I affirm it to be neither dull rior monotonous ; but 

 on the contrary, a source of infinite variety,, and as such I can recom- 

 mend it though to say the truth, were I obliged to write my school- 

 copies over again, it would go against my conscience to say, that 

 " Variety is charming!" -it n't 



The fact is, I am a literary man, and get my living by my pen. I am 

 a household drudge to editors of magazines, booksellers, and gentlemen 

 who wish to have a literary reputation, without the trouble of writing 

 books. You may therefore suppose, that quietude and domestic com- 

 fort is essential to my success. Now my wife does not think so, or at least 

 her ideas of domestic comfort differ so materially from mine, as to 

 render it much the same thing. She is never happy but when the house 

 is a perfect chaos with scouring, dusting, and above all " putting to 

 rights/' She would be delighted if a troop of soldiers were quartered 

 on her for the pleasure of putting things to " rights" afterwards. If she 

 walked in her sleep, it would be with a duster in her hand. If she 

 were ever tempted to purloin, it would be yellow soap. The very paint 

 on my doors and wainscoat is giving way in picturesque streaks to the 

 original deal by repeated scourings and there is more bread con- 

 sumed in rubbing the paper on my parlour walls than would keep my 

 family. Thank God, it will be rubbed off soon. I have not a chair 

 or a table in my house but what is ricketty with continued polishing; 

 that is what my wife calls " taking care of the furniture." But oh ! 

 that "putting to rights." Paper, paint, chairs and tables, might all go, 

 if I could be spared that horror. If I die, the verdict of the coroner's 

 jury will surely be died of "putting to rights." 



I have a good sized table to myself a writing table on this is spread 

 my various notes and papers, whether preparing an article for the 

 magazine, correcting a manuscript for a publisher, or writing a book 

 for an author. To an ordinary eye everything may appear in confusion 

 there, but to me it is in perfect order. I can place my finger upon 

 every thing I want. But no ; that will not do for my wife. Things 

 must be " put to rights/' The moment my back is turned, therefore, 

 the process commences. The table is rubbed and polished till the 

 joints creak again the drawers are all turned topsy-turvy, and the 

 papers bundled up and crammed away in places where it will take me a 

 month to find them again. When I return, I'm at my wit's end. 

 I am like a man going to sleep with flowing curls, waking and finding 

 himself in a trim crop wig ! 



Never shall I forget the hubbub we were in for a whole week, when 

 the child exhibited symptoms of a flea-bite. The house was scrubbed 

 from garret to cellar, blankets were scoured, carpets beat, windows and 

 doors open day and night, until she caught a violent cold, and I the 

 rheumatism. But in order that you may have a more vivid sense of my 

 enjoyments, I will give you my diary for a day. 



