AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
204 
MY HUSBAND. 
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. 
My husband is a very strange man. To 
think how he should have grown so pro¬ 
voked about such a little matter as that scar¬ 
let scarf. Well there’s no use trying to drive 
him, I’ve settled that in my mind. But he 
can be coaxed—can’t he, though?—and from 
this time henceforth—shan't I knowhow to 
manage him ? Still there’s no denying, Mr. 
Adams is a very strange man. 
You see, it was this morning at breakfast, 
I said to him, “ Henry, 1 must have one of 
those ten dollar scarfs at Stuart’s. They are 
perfectly charming, and will correspond so 
nicely with my maroon velvet cloak. I want 
to go out this morning and get one, before 
they are all gone.” 
“ Ten dollars don't grow on every bush, 
Adeline ; and just now times are pretty hard, 
you know,” he answered in a dry careless 
kind of tone, which irritated me greatly. 
Beside that, I knew he could afford to get me 
the scarf just as well as not, only, perhaps, 
my manner of requesting it did not quite suit 
his lordship. 
“ Gentlemen who can afford to buy satin 
vests at ten dollars apiece, can have no mo¬ 
tive but peuuriousness for objecting to give 
their wives as much for a scarf,” I retorted, 
as I glanced at the money which a few mo¬ 
ments before he had laid by the side of my 
plate, requesting me to procure one for him ; 
he always trusts to my taste in these matters. 
I spoke angrily. I should have been sorry 
for it the next moment, if he had not an¬ 
swered. 
“You will then attribute it to my penuri¬ 
ousness, I suppose, when I tell you 1 can not 
let you have another ten dollars to-day.” 
“ Well, then, I will take this and get me 
the scarf. You can do without your vest 
this fall,” and I took up the bills and left the 
room, for he did not answer me. 
“ I need it, and I must have it,” 1 solilo¬ 
quised, as I Avashed my[ tear-SAvollen eyes, 
and adjusted my hair for a walk down Broad¬ 
way ; but all the while there was a still 
small voice in my heart, whispering “Don’t 
do it. Go and buy the vest for your hus¬ 
band,” and at last (would you believe it?) 
that inner voice triumphed. I went down to 
the tailor’s, selected the vest, and brought it 
home. 
“ Here it is, Henry. 1 selected the color 
which I thought would suit you best. Isn’t 
it rich ?” 1 said, as 1 unfolded the vest after 
dinner, for somehoAv my pride Avas all gone. 
I had felt so much happier ever since I had 
resolved to forget the scarf. 
He did not ansAver me, but there Avas such 
a look of tenderness filling his dark, hand¬ 
some eyes, as his lips dropped to my fore¬ 
head, that it Avas as much as I could do to 
keep from crying outright.” 
But I havn’t told you the cream of the 
story yet. To-night, Avhen he came home to 
supper, he threw a little bundle into my lap. 
Wondering greatly Avhat it could be, I opened 
it, and there (would you believe it?) Avas the 
scarlet scarf, the very one I set my heart on 
at Stuart’s yesterday. 
“ Oh Henry,” I said, looking up and trying 
to thank him, but my lips trembled, and then 
the tears dashed over my eyelashes, and he 
dretv my head to his heart, and smoothed 
down my curls, and murmured the old loving 
words in my ear, Avhile I cried there a long 
time ; but oh, my tears were such sweet ones. 
He is a strange man, my husband, but he 
is a noble one, too, and his heart is in the 
right place after all, only it’s a little hard to 
find it sometimes, and it seems to me my 
heart never said it so deeply as it does to¬ 
night. God bless him! 
I WILL BE HOME SOON. 
A feAv weeks ago, Ave were the Avitness of 
a parting scene Avhicli touched us nearly. It 
was between two who were newly Avedded, 
and who, since the sAveet day of their nup¬ 
tials, had not been parted for a day, hardly 
for an hour. Nothing short of sheer necessi¬ 
ty could have called the husband from his 
bride hoav— but the necessity came between 
them and he must not shrink. We saAv the 
long and Avild embrace, heard the goer whis¬ 
per, “Be of good cheer—I will be home soon,” 
and in a few moments more the billows 
rolled between the hearts that so lately God 
had joined together. “ I will be home soon,” 
These were the words—the only consolation 
left, amid so much bitterness. Perhaps the 
pangs of parting Avere sharpened by the vague 
presentiment that they might never meet 
again. And so she turned from the spot, that 
sad young wife, and went back to the home 
Avhose light had departed. 
“ I will be home soon.” And so he was ; 
home before he Avas expected—home ere yet 
the tears Avere dried from the eyes of the 
Aveeper whom he left behind. But, alas! 
Iioav did he come! Encompassed by a 
shroud, embraced within a coffin, cold as the 
perpetual snoAv that croAvns the mountain 
monarclis of Switzerland. Sure enough, he 
Avas “ home soon.” 
They dug but one grave, then—but, since, 
another Avas demanded—and iioav, the young 
husband and Avife sleep and dream together. 
We shall all “ be home soon.” What that 
home Avill be, rests Avith us. The deeds of 
virtue Avill secure a passport to the golden 
palaces—the enormities of vicenvill end in 
Avorse than dungeon darkness. 
“Home soon!'’ So he Avas —and having 
Avaited but a little Avhile, she Avent home 
also ! [Buffalo Express. 
Religion of the American Presidents.— 
The religious belief of the fourteen persons 
who have filled the Presidential chair in the 
United States, as indicated by their attend¬ 
ance upon public Avorship and the evidence 
afforded in their Avritings, may be enummed 
up as folloAvs : Washington, Madison, Mon¬ 
roe, Tyler, and Taylor were Episcopalians ; 
Jefferson, John Adams, John Quincy Adams 
and Fillmore Avere Unitarians; Jackson 
and Polk Avere Presbyterians; Mr. Van 
Buren Avas of the Dutch Reformed Church ; 
and President Pierce is a Trinitarian Con- 
gregationalist. [Boston Trans. 
Dr. Cox, speaking of persons Avho pro¬ 
fess to do a great deal for religion Avithout 
possessing any, says : they resemble Noah’s 
carpenters, who built a ship in which other 
people Avere saved, although they were 
droAvned themselves. 
A young minister Avhen about to be or¬ 
dained, stated at one period of his life, he 
was nearly an infidel. “ But,” said he “ there 
Avas one argument in favor of Christianity, 
Avhich I could never refute—the consistent 
conduct of my oavii father !” 
Polite. —“ I do not wish to say anything 
against the individual in question,” said a 
polite and accomplished gentleman upon a 
certain occasion, “ but I would merely re¬ 
mark in the language of a poet, that to him 
‘ truth is stranger than fiction.’ ” 
The following toast Avas recently drank at 
a social gathering in Baltimore : “ In ascend¬ 
ing the hill of prosperity, may Ave never meet 
a friend.” 
Why Avas the first day of Adam’s life the 
longest ever knOAvn ? Because it had no Eve. 
CARRYING BUNDLES. 
Many people have a contemptible fear of 
being seen to carry a bundle, hoAvever 
small, having the absurd idea that there is a 
social degradation in the act. The most 
trifling as Avell as weighty packages must be 
sent to them, no matter how much to the in¬ 
convenience of others. This arises from a 
Ioaa kind of pride. There is a pride that is 
higher; that arises from a consciousness of 
there being something in the individual not 
to be affected by such accidents ; worth and 
Aveight, of character. This latter pride Avas 
exhibited by the son of Jerome Napoleon 
Bonaparte. While he was at college, at 
Cambridge, he Avas one day carrying to his 
room a broom he had just purchased, when 
he met a friend who, noticing the broom 
with surprise, exclaimed, “ Why did you not 
have it sent home ?” “ I am not ashamed 
to carry home anything Avhich belongs to 
me,” Avas the sensible reply of young Bona¬ 
parte. Very different pride Avas this from 
that of a young lady Avhom we knoAv, avIio 
alway gave her mother all the bundles to 
carry when they went out together, because 
she thought it vulgar to be seen Avith one 
herself. 
AGES OF THE POETS OF AMERICA- 
James K. Paulding, 75; John Pierpont, 
69 ; Richard H. Dana, 67 ; Charles Sprague, 
63 ; John Neal, 60 ; William C. Bryant, 60 ; 
James G. Percival, 59 ; Fitz Greene Halleck, 
59; Samuel G. Goodrich, .58 ; George W. 
Doane, 55; George P. Morris, 53 ; Albert G. 
Greene, 52 ; George W. Bethune, 52 ; Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, 51 ; George D. Prentice, 
50 ; Charles F. Hoffman, 48 ; N. P. Willis, 
47; William G. Simms, 47; Henry W. 
LongfelloAV, 47 ; George Lunt, 47 ; John G. 
Whittier, 46 ; William D. Gallagher, 46 ; 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, 45 ; Albert Pike, 
45; Park Benjamin, 45; James Freeman 
Clarke, 44; Ralph Hoyt, 44 ; James Aldrich, 
44; William FI. C. Hosmer, 44 ; Jones Very, 
44 ; Alfred B. Street, 43 ; George W. Cutter, 
43; William H. Burleigh, 42; Henry T. Tuck- 
erman 41 ; Henry B. Hirst, 41 ; Cornelius 
MattheAVS, 39; John G. Saxe, 38; Philip 
P. Cooke, 38; Epes Sargent, 38 ; Thomas W. 
Parsons, 37 ; George W. Dewy, 36 ; Arthur 
C. Coxe ; James T. Fields, 36 ; James Rus¬ 
sell LoAvell, 35; Thomas Buchanan Reed, 
32 ; George H. Boker, 31 ; Bayard Taylor, 
29; R. H. (Stoddard, 28. [Boston Trans. 
Southern Hard Shell —A Southerner 
gave a party to a feAv friends, who, happen¬ 
ing to converse about Sambo’s power of 
head endurance, the gentleman said he 
owned a negro Avhom no one in the party 
could knock doAvn or injure by striking on 
the head. A strong, burly felloAv laughed at 
the idea, and as Sam, the colored person, 
Avas about entering Avith the candles, the 
gentleman stood behind the door, and as he 
entered, Sam’s head received a powerful 
sockdologer. The candles flickered a little, 
but Sam passed quietle on, merely exclaim¬ 
ing, “ Gentlemen, be careful of de elboAvs, 
or de lights will be distinguslied.” 
Mrs. Partington on being asked respect¬ 
ing a pair of tAvins Avith which she Avas said 
to have been recently blessed, replied that if 
such Avas the fact, it needn’t be Avondered at, 
for she belonged to a very grOAving family, 
and, though none of them had had tAvins, yet 
several of them had come within one of it. 
Why are railway companies like laun¬ 
dresses? Because they have ironed all 
England, and sometimes do a litte mangling. 
London Diogenes. 
