Re ^dtlies' ^Floral i^aRifiei un3 3P*ictoritiI 3HEome iloHijianiaii, 
MANAGING A MAN. 
Nellie Davis was the prettiest, sweetest, best, and 
dearest little girl in Hills burg; and when Tom Carter 
fell liead-over-heels in love with her, nobody blamed 
him in the least. And when the parson gave his 
blessing, and they went to commence housekeeping in 
a cosy little house on the south side of the town, every¬ 
body prophesied all sorts of happiness for the pretty 
bride. 
And, truth to tell, Nellie Carter was very happy. 
It is a pleasant thing to go into housekeeping for the 
first time, with everything new and shiny; and if you 
have somebody you love very much for a companion, 
it is still pleasanter. Now Nellie did love that great, 
big, blundering 
Tom Carter with all her might and 
main; and there was only one thing to disturb her 
perfect peace. She was the very pink of tidiness, and 
Tom was the most careless fellow alive. 
He kept his person neat and nice—but be kept bis 
personal belongings anything else. Tom would per¬ 
sist in tossing his slippers under the parlor sofa, to 
have them bandy. In vain did she gently suggest 
that the rack in the hall was the place for his hat and 
overcoat. Tom would fling his overcoat, damp or dry, 
on her pretty, smoothly-made bed, and drop his hat 
anywhere. 
In vain did tidy Nellie make a place for everything, 
for Tom invariably tossed everything down in some 
other place. Now little Mrs. Nellie was only human, 
and Tom’s slovenly ways annoyed her exceedingly. 
She was resolved not to spoil the peace of their cosy 
home by scolding ; but how to cure him she could not 
tell. 
She boro with him with the patience of an angel, 
until one morning, after he had gone to his office, she 
went into the parlor, and there lay Tom’s heavy shawl 
right across the table, ruthlessly crushing beneath it 
the pretty trifles which lay upon the marble top. 
“Now I can’t stand tins, and I won’t!” said Nellie, 
as she carefully raised the shawl from the delicate 
treasures, and discovered the ruins of a Bohemian 
vase. 
“ I don’t know what to do, but this I won’t bave ! ” 
she continued, with the little bit of wifely snap which 
every good wife must have if she expects to get on at 
all with that occasionally unreasonable animal—man. 
“ Some way must and shall he discovered to cure 
Tom of such performances as this!” went on Mrs. 
Nellie, as she removed the ruins of her vase, and all 
the morning she went about the house with scarlet lips 
closely compressed and a little flash in her brown eyes, 
which argued well for Master Tom’s subjugation. 
Woman’s wit, having a will, seldom fails to find a 
way. And when a determined little woman says 
“must” and “shall,” masculine insubordination might 
as well surrender at. once. Before Mrs. Nellie had 
closed her bright eyes that night she had arranged her 
plans for the campaign against her liege lord, who 
slept the sleep of the innocent at her side. 
But she meant to give him one more chance. So, 
after breakfast, when Tom drew on his hoots and gave 
his slippers their usual toss under the sofa, she gently 
said, “Tom, dear, hadn’t you better put your slippers 
in the passage or the bed-room 1 ” 
“No; let ’em alone; they’ll he handy to-night,” 
said Tom. 
“But, Tom, dear, they look so untidy.” 
“Why, no they don’t. A thing looks as well in 
one place as another. What’s the use of a man hav¬ 
ing a home, if he can’t keep things where he wants 
to said rebellious Tom. 
“ What’s the use of keeping a wife and servant on 
their feet all day to pick up things after you ? ” asked 
Nellie, without the least show of temper. 
“Don’t pick ’em up at all. Just let ’em alone, and 
then I can find ’em when I want ’em,” declared Master 
Tom, as he gave her a kiss, and took himself off. 
And the moment the door closed on him Nellie’s red 
lips compressed again, and her brown eyes wore the 
same look they had worn yesterday. 
“War it is, then!” she said to herself. “Now, 
Master Tom, we shall see who wins the field.” 
She set quietly about the usual morning’s work of 
a mistress of a house where only one servant is kept; 
and when Tom came home to lunch everything was in 
its usual good order. It remained so and Nellie 
busied herself with her needlework until nearly time 
for Tom to return to dinner. 
Then she rose, put away her work, and prepared, 
as she said to herself, to “open the campaign.” 
First she put Tom’s slippers where he always left 
them, under the sofa. Then she tossed his shawl 
upon the piano, and his best hat on the table. Then 
she brought some of her dresses and flung them across 
the chairs and on the sofa. Her furs reposed in Tom’s 
especial arm-chair, and her best bonnet kept Tom’s 
slippers company under the sofa, while her own slip¬ 
pers lay upon the cheffonier. 
And then, thinking that feminine ingenuity could 
make no greater sacrifice than her Sunday bonnet, she 
took a piece of crochet-work and sat down. 
Presently the door opened, and in walked Master 
Tom. He gave a low whistle of surprise as he 
glanced at the unwonted disorder, and at Nellie, sit¬ 
ting calmly in the midst with her crochet-work, and 
then came into the room. 
“Haven’t been putting-things to rights, Nellie?” he 
asked. 
“No, no. Why?” said Nellie, looking up in sweet 
unconsciousness. 
“I thought may-be you had been, that’s all,” re¬ 
marked Tom, dryly, as he looked for a place to sit 
down. 
Nellie quietly pursued her work. 
Presently Tom said, “ Paper come this evening?” 
“Not yet,” answered Nellie. 
Tom gave a half sigh. 
“Nellie, I met Granger just now, and he said he 
would call around this evening.” 
“Very well. Probably be won’t come before din¬ 
ner. It will be ready soon,” said Nellie, working 
away in demure innocence. 
“Hadn’t you better put things a little to rights 
before be comes?” said Tom, glancing uneasily around 
the room. 
“ Oh, no. Just let ’em lie,” answered Nellie, sweetly. 
“But they look so bad,” said Tom. 
“Oh, no, they don’t,” said Nellie, as sweetly as 
before. “‘A thing looks as well in one place as 
another.’ ” 
Tom’s face reddened. 
“I never saw your room look like this before,’ be 
said, hesitatingly. “I shouldn’t like to have anyone 
step in.” 
“Why not,” said Nellie. “We might-as well keep 
things bandy. ‘What’s the use of having a house if 
you can’t keep things where you want to?’” 
Tom’s face got redder and redder. He tried to look 
serious, and then broke into a laugh. 
“Oh, that’s your game, is it?” he said, “Trying 
to heat me with my own weapons, are you, little 
woman 
“Well, don’t you like the plan?” said Nellie, de¬ 
murely. 
“No, by George, I don’t,” said Tom. 
“Well, then, I’ll make a bargain with you. As 
long as you will keep your things in their places, I’ll 
do the same with mine; and whenever you don’t—” 
“Oh, I will!” interrupted Tom. “Come, Nellie, 
I’ll confess like a man—you’ve heat mo this time. 
Only just put things right in this awful room, and I’ll 
never throw things down again. There, now, let us 
kiss and make it up, as the children say.” 
Nellie rose, and laughingly held uj> her sweet mouth 
for the kiss of peace. And then, under the magic 
influence of her deft fingers, confusion was suddenly 
banished; and when Mr. Granger came round to 
spend the evening, he decided that nobody had a 
prettier wife or a tidier home than his friend Tom 
Carter. 
Wise little Nellie having gained possession of the 
matrimonial field, took good care to keep it until Tom 
was quite cured of his careless habits. Sometimes he 
seemed threatened with a relapse; hut Nellie, instead 
of scolding, only had quietly to bring something of her 
own and lay it beside whatever he had tossed down, 
and it was sure to be put away immediately, for Tom 
seldom failed to take the hint. 
And if some other little woman, as tidy and wise as 
Nellie, takes a hint also, this little story will have 
served its purpose. 
A Strange View of it. —A lady correspondent of the 
Boston Post, writing from Washington, says : And yet 
there is nothing more tame and utterly inane, destitute 
of all human interest, than good society.” Look at 
good society at the fashionable, watering-places and see 
how, nominally in the pursuit of pleasure, it scorns the 
object in view. It is too aristocratic to dance, to laugh, 
to talk with animation. It drives, it dresses, it eats, it 
watches others dancing or enjoying themselves, and de¬ 
spises them for being capable of underbred excitement. 
Of all people in the world these immensely rich members 
of good society are the most to he pitied. They have 
no human interest whatever. The moderately rich 
have one object in life, to wit: The desire to appear 
richer than they are; but those who have plenty have 
nothing to do hut take care of their diamonds and laces. 
And what a care these, especially the first, become to 
their owners. They must be eternally kept about the 
person. If not worn outwardly the twenty thousand 
dollar necklace is beneath the waist of the dress, its 
cutting and setting goading the flesh, a perpetual re¬ 
minder that ‘ ‘ I, the representative of a fortune, am here, 
therefore cease to feel my pricks if you dare.” The 
bracelets, when they must not he shown, are clasped on 
the arms under the sleeves, and the brooches, pendants, 
rings, and head ornaments are in a muslin hag depend¬ 
ing from the waist. It is a heavy care, is it not ? 
It is told of a man, poorly dressed, that he went to 
a church, seeking an opportunity to worship. The 
usher did not notice him, hut seated several well- 
dressed persons, who presented themselves, when 
finally the man addressed the usher, saying: 
“ Can yon tell me whose church this is ? ” 
“Yes, this is Christ’s church.” 
“ Is he in?’’ asked the man. 
He was shown to a good seat. 
Judge Smith, after he was seventy, married a 
second wife considerably his junior. One day soon 
after the ceremony be was riding with her, and on 
coming to a hill, she bantered him with the remark : 
“Judge, my father always used to walk up hill.” “ So 
did my first wife,” replied the judge. 
