374 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 



^^HERE is a time in her housekeeping experience when 

 woman wishes she were either a man or dead: a 



/ r-g[^ HE 



brace of alternatives not so dissimilar when you 

 reflect upon the future punishment that awaits man's selfish- 

 ness in this life, and the quiet repose of death, and the reward 

 in store for those who have been " weary and heavy laden." 

 This time is when after doing a hard day's work and the hired 

 girl gone she has seen a market wagon load of unexpected 

 company unloaded and settled down, and then beheld how 

 light the burden of entertaining visitors falls on the alleged 

 head of the household. The first thing the latter does after 

 ordering the hired man to put away the strange horses is to 

 take the men folks — the whole load is "his folks," by the way 

 — part of the company to the pig pen, and leaning over the 

 trough discuss the relative merits of Berkshire and Chester 

 Whites, until it is supposed that " Mother " has the parlor fire 

 made. Then they adjourn to the house, and with chairs 

 tipped back at an angle of forty-five degrees, at the imminent 

 risk of cutting through the new parlor carpet, discuss politics 

 or whatever comes uppermost. They find the female guests 

 already here, and engaged in looking over the autograph and 

 photograph albums, and wdth a tight grip on the other end of 

 the sympathetic chord which connects the two parties in the 

 matter of the expected supper. But while this party are 

 enjoying themselves where is mother? She is down in the 

 kitchen wondering what she will get for supper. She is done 

 wondering whether or not the company will stay all night, for 

 she cunningly got her boy to ask the little company girl how 

 long they were going to stay. The little lad took an in- 

 opportune time to propound the inquiry, and made it before 



