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guttural tone peculiar to very deaf people; “kept down the cellar all the forenoon.” This malapropos answer came in very well, and turned mortification to mirth, which was increased when Edward said, in a louder tone, “But, Lyddy, what have you done to the cream 7” and she answered, “Yes, sir, very fresh; Miss Hatch was spoke to aforehand for the best, and I thought I would salt it to presarve it, as Miss Packard tell'd me.” This grave answer let loose the flood-gates of wit and laughter, and we finished our desser, with attic salt, as a substitute for poor Lyddy's mistaken mixture. But while I thus detail circumstances which, if taken by the housekeeper in a right spirit, produce at worst but a passing shade over the brightness of her régime, let me stop a moment to pay a tribute to Lydia's unpretending virtues. Happy shall we be if, like her, we only mistake our duty. Through her long days of toil, her onward course was calm and steady, unruffled by passion, studious to please, contemplative and prayerful. Her study was to serve God and her fellow-creatures. Peace to thy memory, my humble friend! When the lords of this world are summoned to the test of a high tribu
THE HELPLESS BRIDE.
For the maist thristy man could never get
In short, 'twas his fate, sir, To eat mutton cold. Goldsmith's Retaliation. A LETTER which I have recently received seems so appropriate to my recollections, that I hope I shall be excused for presenting it in these details. Its writer, Emily Lawrence, seemed never made for a coarser implement than a No. 12 needle. Before her marriage she breathed the very atmosphere of indulgence, the acquisition of various accomplishments being the only discipline she was called to endure. Her hands were white and soft as infancy, her step untroubled and elastic, her spirits joyous and gentle, her smile delicate as moonlight; she was a sweet creature. and her friends loved to lift her along the road of life without her touching the earth. Her experiences after her marriage will be best illustrated by her letter.
“QUINCY, Mass. Aug. 9th, 18–.
“I have been for some time intending to write to you, as I promised at parting, to give you a description of our establishment, and the beautiful scenery about this delightful region. I have but little excuse for my delay, and will make amends by a long letter.
“You recollect that when I left my dearmaternal home, my mother provided me with excellent domestics, and every thing useful and elegant suited to our large fortune. Indeed there seemed no deficiency throughout the whole establishment, and she departed for England, happy in the belief that the care and expense bestowed on my education had been attended with complete success; that I was fitted to adorn the fortune I inherited, and to preside over a family with grace and dignity. Alas! she had only seen me in my drawingroom, surrounded with taste and elegance, beautifully dressed, with an admiring husband who studied every wish. But, my dear friend, I soon found myself involved in perplexities. Oh how I wished you were here to enlighten me by your experiences “The domestics Ibrought with me from Boston soon began to grow dissatisfied with the monotony of a country life, and to feel the want of those social pleasures to which all human beings aspire. My cook, an excellent woman, pined for her own minister. She had been a very respectable member of the Congregational church in her native town, and feeling the want of those respectful attentions to which she had been accustomed on the Sabbath, it was always a melancholy day to her. In vain I took her in our comfortable coach to the Episcopal church, which was under the especial patronage of my husband, and seated her