own hands. That social meal, ever, in a loving family,
the most joyous interview of the day, being passed, M. Roland entered
the library for his intellectual toil, taking with him, for his silent
companion, the idolized little Eudora. She amused herself with her
pencil, or reading, or other studies, which her father and mother
superintended. Madame Roland, in the mean time, devoted herself, with
most systematic energy, to her domestic concerns. She was a perfect
housekeeper, and each morning all the interests of her family, from
the cellar to the garret, passed under her eye. She superintended the
preservation of the fruit, the storage of the wine, the sorting of the
linen, and those other details of domestic life which engross the
attention of a good housewife. The systematic division of time, which
seemed to be an instinctive principle of her nature, enabled her to
accomplish all this in two hours. She had faithful and devoted
servants to do the work. The superintendence was all that was
required. This genius to superintend and be the head, while others
contribute the hands, is not the most common of human endowments.
Madame Roland, having thus attended to her domestic concerns, laid
aside those cares for the remainder of the day, and entered the study
to join her husband in his labors there. These intellectual
employments ever possessed for her peculiar attractions. The
scientific celebrity of M. Roland, and his political position,
attracted many visitors to La Platiere; consequently, they had, almost
invariably, company to dine. At the close of the literary labors of
the morning, Madame Roland dressed for dinner, and, with all that
fascination of mind and manners so peculiarly her own, met her guests
at the dinner-table. The labor of the day was then over. The repast
was prolonged with social converse. After dinner, they walked in the
garden, sauntered through the vineyard, and looked at the innumerable
objects of interest which are ever to be found in the yard of a
spacious farm. Madame Roland frequently retired to the library, to
write letters to her friends, or to superintend the lessons of Eudora.
Occasionally, of a fine day, leaning upon her husband's arm, she would
walk for several miles, calling at the cottages of the peasantry, whom
she greatly endeared to her by her unvarying kindness. In the evening,
after tea, they again resorted to the library. Guests of
distinguished name and influence were frequently wi