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to the fire, if it were winter, or to the window, if it were summertime; no bright young faces gathered around him, no loving voices welcomed him home, no gay prattle beguiled his weariness, which was more mental than physical;-his girls, for whom all day he had toiled, were absent with their own especial friends, or too much absorbed in their own pursuits to attend to pa, who had come home so dreadfully cross and disagreeable!" Poor man! he worked hard for these careless daughters; he kept them in a comfortable, well-appointed home; he gave them an expensive education; he paid for their silks, and muslins, and fine linen; he made them birthday presents; he did not grudge them occasional tickets for concerts or flower-shows; he liked to see his girls enjoy themselves; and how dear they were to him, only his own heart and God, who sees all things, ever knew. But he must have felt sometimes cruelly pained and bitterly disappointed when day after day he saw these girls, for whom he had sacrificed so much, and for whom he was willing, if requisite, to sacrifice more, alike careless of his comfort, heedless of his wishes, selfish, thoughtless, inconsiderate, and vain!

I need not say these girls were not domesticated. Better far to be the merest drudge than to be such as they. It was not necessary that they should do hard, dirty work; though, with perfect health and strength, and their life before them, a little of that occasionally would not have hurt them! No one wished them to spoil their pretty hands, for real hard work does spoil hands, in spite of all that is sometimes asserted to the contrary; but it would have been far better for them, as well as more gratifying to their friends, if they had from the first, as grown-up daughters, assumed certain duties, and religiously discharged them.

A married lady, herself an admirable house-mother and manager, told me only the other day how she and her sisters, in their girlhood, divided between them all household responsibilities and daughterly avocations.

There were three young ladies, and their father was a man of substance and position. These three girls had all left school, and were as nearly of an age as it is possible for sisters, not twins, to be. Of course there was a proper staff of domestics, but the wise parents had no idea of their girls living their home-life in idleness, or unprofitable trifling; and these wise girls saw the wisdom of their parents' arrangements, and readily entered into them. And this was their plan:-The sisters took it in turn to discharge the duties of head-cook, housemaid, and assistant lady-of-the-house. We will call the girls, for clearness' sake, Mary, Fanny, and Emma. Mary would be the lady of the week; that is, she was not expected to do anything but receive

or entertain visitors, in conjunction, of course, with her mother. She was always to be well-dressed, ready to see chance-callers, or to play the part of sub-hostess to invited guests, or to go out making calls. Beyond this nothing more than a little light needle-work or fancy work was expected of Miss Mary, and as I am speaking of a Yorkshire family, she had, doubtless, abundance of employment; since the hospitality of Yorkshire is always of the most extensive and diffusive and generous nature.

But next week Fanny played lady, and Mary became cook. Not that there was no cook in the kitchen, or that Mary was required to peel onions or potatoes; but she was responsible for the menu. I dare say she made most of the pastry, and concocted all sorts of delicate puddings and cakes, and made dishes, and attended to the preserving in preserving time, and to the pickling in due season; she did nothing which a young gentlewoman need be ashamed of doing, but she did a great deal which young gentlewomen for the most part eschew, and which they would be far happier and better for the doing. Also, their families would be all the happier, for unless we are utter Utopians we must know-many of us, alas! from sad experience, how much bad and careless cooking conduces to the unhappiness of a household. The male creatures especially like to sit down to a good, nicely, delicately-served table, and, bless them! why should they not? They provide the wherewithal, and, therefore, they have an indubitable right to the best that the resources they furnish can by any means bring forth. And when the men of the house are discontented, and justly complaining, surely the women must be horribly stolid, apathetic, and passive, if they can feel otherwise than regretful and uncomfortable.

To her china, and

On the third week Emma became lady, Fanny was cook, and Mary housemaid or parlourmaid, or both combined. And now Mary was responsible for the appearance of the table. was committed the care of the glass, and plate, and the table-linen; and also the charge of the bed-rooms. I do not mean that she swept them or scrubbed them; I am not sure even that she dusted them, or helped make the beds; though I feel sure she did so occasionally, if not regularly; but she saw that the actual housemaid did her duty; she looked after the toilet apparatus, and she did all through the house the hundred little things that only a lady can do; because to give the last touches, the perfect finish to a room, or to a table, requires that which not one servant in a thousand possesses-a correct eye, a refined taste, a measure of true artistic genius, which only an educated woman can supply. On the fourth week Mary returned to her position of sub-hostess, and Fanny and Emma were again severally cook and housemaid. When one of the

sisters went out visiting, as was not unfrequently the case, the mother assumed her duties for the week. And these three wellborn and well-proportioned girls grew up unquestionable gentlewomen, and all married men of wealth and good social standing. How much better and happier for themselves, and for all concerned, than if they had spent the years between leaving school and marriage in doing nothing particular, except pleasing themselves.

I could tell you, too, of another family, where the girls are always busy, and yet always enjoying themselves. There the mother, who is not so young as she once was and rather delicate, may indulge in the morning if she chooses. She can rely upon her eldest daughter being down betimes to see the boys breakfasted and off to school, and to see to papa's comfort and well-being, and to start him for the City. She will brush his hat, and help him on with his overcoat, and look for his black bag and the morning paper, and give him a good-bye kiss, and watch him down the road Oh, what a sweetener of a man's life is such loving, thoughtful, filial affection.

And all day long she and her sisters will be like the busy bee, improving the shining hours. One will see that the drawing-room is dusted; will probably dust it herself, for housemaids' fingers are not always to be trusted with costly and delicate ornaments, still less with their arrangement. Another will gather fresh flowers and replenish the vases, for " mamma likes to see plenty of nice flowers about;" and another is downstairs giving out stores, advising with the cook, and, if need be, superadding her own services to those of the domestic functionary. Then there is their music; they must practise the songs and pieces that papa and the brothers will be sure to call for in the evening. There are sundry pretty little contrivances of the toilet to be managed; for they must not exceed their allowance, which is limited, and yet both papa and mamma and "the boys" are vexed if they appear ill-dressed. There are fifty things to be done, and last, not least, certain books and magazine articles to be read. Papa and the grown-up brothers are of a literary turn, and like to discuss the books of the day, so the girls must read them, in order to render themselves fit companions for those whom they study to please.

That papa, when he comes home in the evening, is sure of bright faces and loving words; he never finds empty rooms, or a cheerless hearth, or has to wait wearily while the hired servant brings him some refreshment. If the girls ever quarrel, it is as to who shall be first to wait upon papa, who shall talk to him, who shall read to him, who shall give him his favourite music. As for a tête-à-tête with papa, that is indeed an honour and a treat. He never has to ask for his slippers, still less to hunt for them, as some less fortu

nate papas must, if they would indulge in the luxury of slippers at all. His girls are ready to play for him, to sing to him, to read the Times or the Pall Mall aloud, and they can talk sensibly about what they read, and they know something about the leading topics and questions of the day.

Now, these girls are truly domesticated, but in no wise drudges; and, being good daughters, they are also excellent sisters, and will doubtless become excellent wives and mothers in due season. Homely duties are not neglected, and the claims of society are not ignored, neither is the education commenced at school suspended, for certain hours are regularly devoted to accomplishments, and to mental culture.

This may seem too much like the American "women of faculty," who do forty-eight hours' work in twenty-four, and who brew, bake, cook, dress, paint, play, compose, write books, study science and political economy, dance, sing and converse in foreign languages, with equal facility. But I am not quoting any such prodigies of talent and dexterity; for I do not believe that one woman can do everything, though she may pretend to do a great deal more than it is at all possible to do. I am speaking only of what may be done, of what is and has been done, of what any simple-hearted girl may do, if she be but gifted with average ability, and if she do but cultivate habits of order, punctuality, and system! For it is astonishing how much may be effected by system, and by taking advantage of odd minutes, which quickly amount to half-hours, and make all the difference in the world, if turned to account, instead of being frittered away, because "it is not worth while beginning anything only to leave off again!"

True domestication, in its fullest and deepest sense, is a jewel of such inestimable value, a virtue of such pure lustre, that it is well worth striving after, even though it cost something to acquire it. It is also one of the most catholic of virtues, and is confined to no one order of society, for a duchess's daughter may be as thoroughly and truly domesticated as the daughter of a small tradesman whose means permit but one inexperienced maid-of-all-work, or perhaps no maid at all. The real foundation of that which we have been discussing seems to be unselfishness, for a selfish girl or woman can never be domesticated, even though she do all the work of the house single-handed, and sew her fingers to the bone; for she may do all this, there being some feminine natures that delight in scrubbing, and scouring, and routing-Marthas to the backbone, who seem to have missed their vocation, inasmuch as they are not professed charwomen; she may do with her hands, and to some extent with her head, all that hands and heads can do, and yet make no member of her family happy.

Something more than mere drudgery is needed, something more than simple industry, though industry cannot be dispensed with. Dear girls, if you would be truly domesticated-and I really think, as daughters at home, no higher standard can be given you—you must not live to yourselves. You must have tact and patience, you must have temper; above all things, you must treat mood—that bane of household happiness-as a crafty device of the evil one. Never parley with "mood;" do not call it "nerves," or delicate health: say at once, when you feel cross and out of sorts, "Get thee behind me, Satan!" and at once ask God to calm your mind, and give you strength to cast behind you a thing deadly as intemperance, so far as your own peace and the joy of your household is concerned.

And this brings me to my ultimatum. To be truly domesticated you must be a Christian; you must not have a secular life and a religious life, but your whole life from beginning to end must be religious, and religion must influence your words, and your looks, and your tones, and teach you sympathy, and large-hearted charity, and self-abnegation. "For even Christ pleased not Himself." Strive, then, to please others, not yourself; you will have pleasure enough in the end. Try to make all around you happy, and your own happiness is secure, remembering always that happiness is more the aggregation of little things than one great fact. Live at home in your father's house so that when you leave it your companionship, your friendship, as well as your genius, shall be missed. Let your father be able to say, when at last he gives you into a husband's keeping, "This our daughter has never given us any pain, save the natural pain which to-day mingles with our pride in parting with her, as she goes to be the joy and blessing of another's home, as she has ever been of ours."

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WHILE Bayard was away in the country spending a happy time at home, and growing stronger and better in every way, Mr. Reynolds was speaking his praises among his friends.

"I have a young man in my employ," he said, "who has quite a

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