lity as there is energy, and the plain cook with her savagery, or the
fourth-rate confectioner with his rancid pastry, have it all their own
way, according to the election of economy or ostentation.

If by chance one stumbles on a household where the woman does not
disdain housewifely work, and specially the practical superintendence of
the kitchen, there we may be sure we shall find cheerfulness and
content. There seems to be something in the life of a practical
housekeeper that answers to the needs of a woman's best nature, and that
makes her pleasant and good-tempered. Perhaps it is the consciousness
that she is doing her duty--of itself a wonderful sweetener of the
nature; perhaps the greater amount of bodily exercise keeps the liver in
good tone; whatever the cause, sure it is that the homes of the active
housekeepers are more harmonious than those of the feckless and
do-nothing sort. Yet the snobbish half of the middle-classes holds
housewifely work as degrading, save in the trumpery pretentiousness of
"giving orders."

A woman may sit in a dirty drawing-room which the slipshod maid has not
had time to clean, but she must not take a duster in her hands and
polish the legs of the chairs; there is no disgrace in the dirt, only in
the duster. She may do fancy work of no earthly use, but she must not be
caught making a gown. Indeed very few women could make one, and as few
will do plain needlework. They will braid and embroider, "cut holes, and
sew them up again," and spend any amount of time and money on beads and
wools for messy draperies which no one wants; the end, being finery,
sanctions the toil and refines it; but they will not do things of any
practical use, or if they are compelled by the exigencies of
circumstances, they think themselves petty martyrs, and badly used by
the fates.

The whole scheme of woman's life at this present time is untenable and
unfair. She wants to have all the pleasures and none of the
disagreeables. Her husband goes to the city, and does monotonous and
unpleasant work there; but his wife thinks herself in very evil case if
asked to do monotonous housework at home. Yet she does nothing more
elevating or more advantageous. Novel-reading, fancy-work, visiting,
letter-writing, sum up her ordinary occupations; and she considers these
more to the point than practical housekeeping. In fact it becomes a
serious question what women think themselves sent into the world for,
what they hold