None of my business? Make it yours, then: for a woman's heart beats in your kitchen,—over your wash-tub,—over your ironing-table,—down in your cellar,—up in your garret. A kind word is such a little thing to you—so much to her. Your cup is so full to overflowing,—hers often so empty, so tasteless. And kindness so wings the feet of Duty. Think of it.
There is one thing that puzzles me about our women who live in the country; as a general thing they might as well, it seems to us, be without feet, for all the use they make of them, out of doors. We cannot but think they make a mistake in tackling up old Dobbin to convey them a mile, or a mile and a half, as the case may be, to the village store, for any little articles of home consumption. Why not array themselves in thick shoes fit for rough roads, and stir the blood by a little healthful exercise? We do not believe, how active soever their indoor occupations may be, that they can ever entirely supersede this necessity for out-door exercise. We have often marvelled, when chance has thrown us among them for a few days, at their slavish subserviency to horse-flesh on every trifling occasion. They seem to regard the city visitor's preference for walking, as a sort of lunacy, harmless perhaps, but pitiable. They see "no object," in going over the threshold "just for a walk." Well—every one to their taste—notwithstanding the currents of "fresh air" always to be had by every one who lives inside a country house, we would not, voluntarily, surrender the privilege of snuffing it outside, and snuffing it on foot, too. This is our advice to both the country and the city wife.
Wife! There are no four letters in the language expressive of so much that is holy and sweet. Wife! that is a word claimable only by one. A man can have but one wife, in a Christian community! That is her proud, undisputed, indisputable, title. Let her hold on to it.
The other day we overheard this exclamation. That his wife! and a long sigh, and ominous shake of the head followed it. The object of this commiseration had "a genius" for a husband. Crowds of worshippers had he—male and female, known and unknown, declared and silent. According to them, he never opened his mouth without scattering word-pearls. All were desirous to know him; some because they really admired his talent; many because it made them of consequence to be his friends. Presents of all kinds were laid at his feet and just enough enemies had he to convince the most skeptical that he had made a success in the world.
And that was his wife! Good gracious! That little, plain, unpretending, quiet body, with not even a "stylish" air to recommend her! It was awful. Why?—didn't she love him? Oh, yes; how could she help it? Was she not a good mother to his children? Oh, yes. Was she not a careful, orderly housekeeper? Oh, yes. Was she not sensible and well-informed, and able to take a creditable place as conversationalist at his table and fireside? Oh, yes all of that; but he should have had an elegant, talented, brilliant wife. No he shouldn't. He has just the wife he wants. A practical, common-sense woman, proud of her husband in her own demonstrative way. Smiling quietly at the world's estimate of the unostentatious virtues, which make his home a pattern of neatness, order and comfort. Smiling quietly, as the conscious possessor of his heart could afford to do, at the meddling short-sightedness which would displace her "brilliant, talented woman," whom ten to one, even had she good sense with her brilliancy he never would like half as well, because God has endowed few men with magnanimity enough to rejoice in those qualities which make a wife—like her husband—resourceful and self-reliant. No—no, my friends, let them alone. What affair is it of yours, if they themselves are content? Ah—but we won't believe they are content. We persist in pitying him. We could pick out twenty splendid women with whom he would be better mated. Very like—my dear madame;—and yourself, first of the twenty, no doubt! Pshaw! leave him with his patient, quiet, unobtrusive, sensible, good, little, homely wife. "A male genius"—my sentimental friend—likes a good dinner—plenty of kicking room—and a wife who, if she differs from him in opinion, won't say so.
A TRIP TO THE NORTHERN LAKES.
