30 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[January, 
LADIES’ COLUMN. 
JAWIJARY. 
EXTRACTS FROM MRS. BRIGHT’S JOURNAL. 
Have spent a pleasant day receiving New-Year’s calls, 
and a merry hour at its close comparing experiences with 
my husband. Had the satisfaciion of hearing my dress 
pronounced “ slylisli,” and the pleasure of telling him 
tliat I made it myself. Thanks to my Wheeler & Wilson, 
I know nothing of what somebody calls “ the wife’s 
nightmare’’—dressmaker's bills ! * * * 
This week I have given up to the usual calls of “ the 
season.” My friends compliment me upon my good 
health and spirits ; and I think, the cause of both is the 
freedom from anxiety resulting frotu a well-ordered 
household, which, without vanity, and simply stating a 
fact, I believe mine to be. The secret of it is that 1 insist 
upon having every thing done in its season, and never 
suffer the work of one month to accumulate upon that of 
another ; consequently, I have few “ Itotisekeeper's 
trials,” and can enjoy a leisure hour without the uncom¬ 
fortable sense of something left undonei 
Have just paid my usual evening visit tp the nursery ; 
heard lire little prayers, given the- good-night kisses, and 
left them to slumber, sure that “’all is well ” with my 
darlings. Mine should be “ a calm and thankful heart,” 
if a happy home, a loving husband, and sweet, healthful 
children can make it so. 
FESRUARY. 
Went to the concert with my husband. He says that 
music being my only extravagance, he is obliged to in¬ 
dulge me, in spite of a reproving conscience. This is 
“his little joke” at my expense; for the extravagance 
is, to E;iy the least, mutual, and he knows well that- I 
should not enjoy music, or any thing else, if he did not 
share it with me. Moreover, he holds with me the doc¬ 
trine that money is well spent whicti contributes to refine 
our tastes and beautify our lives. Therefore, the concert 
and all good music, wherever we meet it, comes under 
the head of “necessary expenses” in our domestic 
economy. * * * 
A quiet, happy evening at home, put on record for 
another proof that the simplest pleasures are often the 
sweetest. A new book read aloud by iny dear husband 
was the only entertainment; and my fingers were busy 
mean while—shall I tell it ?—darning stockings ! But that 
homely embroidery^ fitted well with Herbert Spencer’s 
geiual philosophy, and while I gained new ideas about 
my boy's education, I had a certain satisfaction in feeling 
that I was making comfortable provision for his toes also. 
Dear little toes! May tlie feet- that own them stray into 
no by or forbidden paths 
MARCH. 
“ A man’s work is from sun to sun, and woman’s work 
is never done,” says the old adage. Cutif tlie woman be 
wise enough to make hersr If mistress of a certain little 
household fairy, whose fingers never weary and never 
wear out, take my word for it lier toil need not outrun 
the daylight. It is such a pretty little fairy, too, so 
obedient to all my behests, so swift, and so sure 1 I take 
a fancy to ornament little Alice’s frock witli braiding, and 
lo! the fairy fingers fly in and out of tlie complicated 
pattern, reproducing all its curves and angles vr ith math¬ 
ematical precision. I want a tucked skirt, and in an 
hour the spaces are marked, the tucks folded down, the 
neat stitclies set like rows of seed-pearls. I have a dozen 
handkercliiefs to hem, and before these mortal fingers 
(not clumsy ones, either) could have finished a single 
one, the w hole set are completed. The greatest charm 
of this fairy is that it possesses the faculty of multiplying 
itself indefinitely, so that every woman may command 
its services for her own liousehold. And for my part, I 
would dispense with many luxuries for the sake of secur¬ 
ing such services, if 1 were not so fortunate as to have 
them at command already. 
APRIL,. 
Had a spare ticket for the last Philharmonic rehearsal, 
and called for Mrs. Blank, thinking she would like to ac¬ 
company me. Found her up to her eyes in plain sewing 
—“would like to go dearly, but couldn’t possibly spare 
the time which I thought very odd indeed. Her family 
is no larger than mine ; lier income no smaller ; yet she 
never seems lo have time for the simplest recreation. 
One is tempted to be uncharitable and ask: What can 
the reason be, meanness or bad management. 
Spent an hour at my sewing machine this morning 
braiding a sacque for Charlie. My husband laughs at 
wliat lie calls my propensity for finery. But if 1 liavc a 
weakness it is to see my children well dressed. Comfor¬ 
table and neat, of course, they always are: and when I 
can make their linle garments heatitiful also, at small 
cost of time or money, where is the harm? “Solomon, 
1. an his glory, wais not arrayed lilte” the lilies of iho 
LADIES’ COLUMN. 
JAKFARY. 
EXTRACTS FROM MRS. BLANK’S JOURNAL. 
Vexed my husband this morning by refusing to receive 
New-Year's calls. He declares that I grow more un¬ 
sociable every year, and I dare say it is true ; but how 
can I help it ? Tlie new j’ear brings ere only new cares, 
and still I sing “ ■with a dolorous pitcli,” life same song of 
“ stitch, stich, stitcit.” * * • 
A call this afternoon from Mrs. Bright. She is no 
s younger than I, and perhaps no prettier, yet I was con¬ 
scious of a contrast not at all to my advantage. How 
fresh, and handsome, and happy she looked t How' fad¬ 
ed, and careworn, and sad I fell. What is tlie secret of 
the difference, I wonder ! * * * 
Am hard at work in mid-winter, upon garments which 
should have been finished in the first of the season. Poor 
little Elite is still wearing her thin Summer flannels, 
because the older cliildren must at least be made respect¬ 
able for school, and I cannot do everything at once. I 
do my best, yet I seem to be always pursuing my work, 
never able to overtake it. ■* * ■* 
Little Ellie is sick to-night, tossing in her sleep, hot 
with fever. I sit by her crib, sewing upon the flannel 
skirts at last, and feel sorely th.at the want of them has 
caused her illness. Yet how could I help it ? • 
FEBRUARY. 
Tickets for the concert sent unexpectedly by a friend, 
.but my husband did not come home, so was unable to use 
them for want of an escort. Got only this, by way of 
comfort, when he did return: “ How could I know you 
wanted to go? You never go anywhere. And what is 
the use of my coming home, to sit alone down stairs, 
when you always stay in your own room ? Don't blame 
me for your disappointment; it is your own fault.” Is 
this true, really, and arn I then so much to blame ? God 
knows it is not for my pleasure that I sit alone evening 
after evening, plying the weary needle ; not for my hap¬ 
piness that I know him seeking his enjoyment in people 
and things apart from.me. Yet what can I do? Isitnot 
a hard alternative when one has to choose between neg¬ 
lecting one’s husband or one’s children ? » - * 
Nothing pleasant to record this evening, which is, alas, 
nothing new. Busy .all day with my needle too tired 
and dull to welcome my husband at night very cheer¬ 
fully ; considered “cross” in consequence, and tempted 
to deserve the title by being so in reality. Do marriage 
and maternity necessarily mean slavery? Taking my 
daily life for example, the answer would be a bitter af¬ 
firmative. 
MARCH. 
Have accomplished little or nothing this week, owing 
to little Eilie’s illness. She has been just sick enough lo 
want continual petting and nursing, .and of course it is 
only I who can do it to lier satisfaction. AVhy i.s it that 
children always tyrannize over their mothers. I wonder! 
Looked wofuliy this morning toward the pile of work 
wliioh has accumulated during Eilie’s illness. Stockings 
to darn, trowsers lo patch, aprons to mend, frocks to 
make, shirts to cut out! One pair of weary hands to do 
it all—one heavy heart to bear ail the complaints and an¬ 
noyance that arise when it is not done. There is a reason 
for .all things, it is said, but I confess I cannot see why 
my life should be wasted in this hopeless sort of toil. I 
would not complain if the results were adequate to the 
labor; but I luTve so little to show for my day's work; 
so much more than I can possibly do is left undone. Yet 
I give myself wholly to these houseliold duties, even to 
the neglect of what 1 feel to be better things. My mind 
is narrowed down lo the range of my work-basket, my 
aspirations confined to the circle of my needle ; yet even 
that poor ambition meets perpetual failure. 
APRIL. 
Refused an invitation to go to the Philharmonic with 
Mrs. Bright, who looked surprised when I gave want of 
lime as an excuse She seems to have plenty of time for 
going out, though one would think her family cares would 
confine her as much as mine. Perhaps she neglects her 
children to take her pleasure ! When a mother goes to 
so many concerts and lectures, reads all the new books, 
entertains company, and all that sort of thing, it’s 
very apt to be the case that the children’s stockings are 
not darned, nor their petticoats mended 1 * * * 
Worked since early morning and till near midnight on 
a Spring dress for Annie to wear to school. Had logo 
to bed at last and leave it unfinished, with the pleasant 
anticipation of her disappointment to-morrow. “ She is 
so tired of wearing her old merino' ” And no wonder. 
The children are known by one dress before I have lime 
to make them another ; although tliey have no superflu¬ 
ous workon them either. Annie complains .sometimes, 
poor child, of her untrimmed frocks ; and I answer her 
field ; but are not the lilies of tlie -field, and all the other 
blossoms that God has clothed with beauty, examples in 
a certain sense,- and excuses for personal adornment ? 
MAY. 
A great ml.'fortune happened to day. Poor little Alice 
experienced her first grief in tlie loss of a tiny black-and- 
tan terrier, “Jet” by name, w-ho died suddenly this 
morning. Tlie little creature has been her pet for a year, 
and she is heart-broken at his death. Have been trying 
to devise something for her consolation, and think I will 
itdee her with me this afternoon, when I make my dona- 
lion-visit to the Chur-ch Charity Foundation. ** * 
Found my idea a good one. Alice was delighted with 
our excursion, quite falling in love with the poor old 
lailies and helpless little orphans at the “ Home.” It is 
her first glimpse into sucli an institution, and I was sur¬ 
prised lo see the intelligent interest she manifested. One 
child attracted her special attention—a bright-eyed little 
thing called Jessie, and, singularly enough, nicknamed 
“Jet.” I saw Alice’s eyes fill up at the familiar sound, 
and presently her little hand stole into mine: " I should 
like to give her something, mamma; may I?” So al¬ 
lowed her to choose a book from my basket, and watched 
the presentation, which gave at least as much pleasure 
to the giver as the recipient. 
JUN-E. 
A delightful afternoon at the Ac.ademy of Design- 
Frank and Alice with me, as they have been every year 
since old enough to go out with me at all. I think one 
cannot cultivate artistic tastes too soon in children, so 
take p.ains lo have mine see pictures, statues, curiosities— 
everything beautiful tliat is witliin our reacli; and, from 
the first, I make a point of teacliing them to observe and 
discriminate, that they may enjoy things intelligently— 
not merely for show or glitter. Tlie reward of my trouble 
comes to me already ; for Frank's comments and criti¬ 
cisms this afternoon were (wiUiout being in the least prig¬ 
gish or unchildlike) so sensible as to make him a most 
agreeable companion. * ■'' * 
Celebrated little Helen’s fifth birthday with a doll’s tea- 
party. Invited ten little girls with their dolls, and gave 
up the afternoon to the entertainment, which passed off 
■w ithout a cloud. Confirmed in my creed that any outlay 
of time and trouble which goes to make children happy 
is a profitable investment. 
JULY. 
Practised industriously for two hours this morning, 
“ making up,” as H-mischievously says, “ for lime 
lost at the sewing-machine." Tlie “household fairy" 
has just accompli.shed, under my supervision, six new 
shirts for his lordship ; not to speak of a host of brown 
holland aprons for Charlie and Helen, and some stout 
gingham frocks for Alice—these last for country wear. 
Which, according to my practical view of thing.', was 
time very well “lnst!’’_ Still, I must not neglect my 
music, for I know its value too well as one of “ the ties 
that bind” us in household unity and harmony. * * * 
A busy day packing for the country. AVe have been 
fortunate enough to secure board so near the city tliat my 
liusband can attend to his business, and still spend the 
evenings with his family. My house is in order, iny Sum¬ 
mer sewing all done, the cliildren provided with every- 
tiling needful; and I look forward to a liappy holiday. 
Have arranged our little apartments so tliat tliey begin 
to look liomelike. Two or tliree engravings on tlie w alls, 
some books, my work-basket, and Alice’s canary in the 
window, give the familiar aspect; wliile (he lovely out¬ 
side view’s of -w'oods and river, upland and meadow, atone 
for all deficiencies within. 
AUGUST. 
Went down to (he river for a swimming lesson to-day. 
Frank learned to swim last summer, and has underlaken 
now to leacli tlie children and myself. No great progress 
as yet; but we all splashed about, and had a merry lime. 
A sudden cloud came tip while we were still in the river, 
and gave us a shower-bath in addition to the plunge. 
The effect of the rain drops upon llie water, seen from 
the midst of them, was exceedingly beautiful. 
Some new arrivals from the cily this afternoon, among 
them an acquaintance—Mrs. Blank. Met her unexpect¬ 
edly on the piazza, and had the pleasure of rendering her 
some little service, wliich she appreciated almost too 
gratefully. Am glad of the opportunity to improve my 
acquaintance -with her. * * * 
AVent up to Mrs. Blank’s room, to ask lier to join us in 
a “crabbing” expedition. Found her sewing, ns usual, 
and too busy to go. I discovered at last, however, the 
reason why she never has time for any thing; she at¬ 
tempts to do her family sewing wilhout a sewing-ma 
cliine 1 No wonder lier work is never done. Gave up 
the crabbing party, and told her of my experience of the 
“liousehold fairy;” which so astonislied and delighted 
her tliat she is determined, at any sacrifice, to have one 
for herself. 
