The boatswain, mid the laugh and acclamation of the whole crew, went to the work with a hearty good will, and after giving the magistrates and selectmen a fine dressing all around, he cut them loose, put them in their boat, and the ship set sail down the harbor and soon disappeared in the dim dist cut ocean.
Mysteries and Miseries of Housekeeping.
People of experience tell awful stories about the miseries of boarding, and boarding-houses, and it is very clearly palpable to us that keepers of boarding-houses could a tale unfold of their own miseries, equal, if not double that of the luckless creatures who board. That housekeeping has its joys it would be vain to deny, but we need no ghost come from the grave to inform us that the secrets of the kitchen are as numerous and as harrowing, as all can attest that ever had occasion to keep house or hire a "Betty."
When Mr. Peter Perriwinkle got married, he exclaimed against hotels, and abominated boarding-houses; quitting both species of human habitations, he "up" and rented a house, and to hear his glowing description of the house—such a cosy little three-storied brick house, on a street too broad for the neighbors opposite to see into his front parlors, and no houses in the rear from which the prying eye of the curious and idle could spy into back kitchen closets or dinner pots—in brief, Perriwinkle went on with that strain of domestic eloquence, peculiar to new beginners in the arts and mysteries of housekeeping, and after a general detail of the quiet comfort and unalloyed happiness he and Mrs. P. were bound to enjoy for the balance of their lives, we merely observed—
"Ah, my dear sir, you've but the ephemeral bright side of your vision yet. But no matter, dear Pete, as the man said of the sausages—hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst."
"But, brother Jack, I've no reason to look for any thing but a good time. Haven't I married one of the best women in the world? I'm too experienced in life, my boy, to call any female women angels, doves, or sugar plums, you know, but my wife is a real woman!"
"Yes, Pete, she is all that," said we.
"Well, ain't I square with the world? Enough laid up for a wet day—don't care twopence ha'penny for politics, or soldier fol-de-rols—who wins or who loses in such hums?"
"Granted, old fellow."