y in a dark closet, where
they have ever since remained.

The reader may be sure that I never forgot this, my first and last
speculation in china ware.

CHAPTER II.

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS.

WAS there ever a good cook who hadn't some prominent fault that
completely overshadowed her professional good qualities? If my
experience is to answer the question, the reply will be--_no_.

I had been married several years before I was fortunate enough to
obtain a cook that could be trusted to boil a potato, or broil a
steak. I felt as if completely made up when Margaret served her
first dinner. The roast was just right, and all the vegetables were
cooked and flavored as well as if I had done it myself--in fact, a
little better. My husband eat with a relish not often exhibited, and
praised almost every thing on the table.

For a week, one good meal followed another in daily succession. We
had hot cakes, light and fine-flavored, every morning for breakfast,
with coffee not to be beaten--and chops or steaks steaming from the
gridiron, that would have gladdened the heart of an epicure. Dinner
was served, during the time, with a punctuality that was rarely a
minute at fault, while every article of food brought upon the table,
fairly tempted the appetite. Light rolls, rice cakes, or "Sally
Luns," made without suggestion on my part usually met us at tea
time. In fact, the very delight of Margaret's life appeared to be in
cooking. She was born for a cook.

Moreover, strange to say, Margaret was good-tempered, a most
remarkable thing in a good cook; and more remarkable still, was tidy
in her person, and cleanly in her work.

"She is a treasure," said I to my husband, one day, as we passed
from the dining-room, after having partaken of one of her excellent
dinners.

"She's too good," replied Mr. Smith--"too good to last. There must
be some bad fault about her--good cooks always have bad faults--and
I am looking for its appearance every day."

"Don't talk so, Mr. Smith. There is no reason in the world why a
good cook should not be as faultless as any one else."

Even while I said this, certain misgivings intruded themselves. My
husband went to his store soon after.

About three o'clock Margaret presented herself, all dressed to go
out, and said that she was going to see her sister, but would be
back in time to get tea.

She came back, as she promised, but, alas for my good cook! The
fault appeared. She was so much i