most approved romantic way, with all the
proprieties of moonlight walks, serenades, sentimental billets doux,
and everlasting attachment.

After having been allowed, as I said, about three months to get over
this sort of thing, and to prepare for realities, I was located for
life as aforesaid. My family consisted of myself and husband, a female
friend as a visitor, and two brothers of my good man, who were engaged
with him in business.

I pass over the first two or three days, spent in that process of
hammering boxes, breaking crockery, knocking things down and picking
them up again, which is commonly called getting to housekeeping. As
usual, carpets were sewed and stretched, laid down, and taken up to be
sewed over; things were formed, and _re_formed, _trans_formed, and
_con_formed, till at last a settled order began to appear. But now
came up the great point of all. During our confusion we had cooked and
eaten our meals in a very miscellaneous and pastoral manner, eating
now from the top of a barrel, and now from a fireboard laid on two
chairs, and drinking, some from teacups, and some from saucers, and
some from tumblers, and some from a pitcher big enough to be drowned
in, and sleeping, some on sofas, and some on straggling beds and
mattresses thrown down here and there wherever there was room. All
these pleasant barbarities were now at an end. The house was in order,
the dishes put up in their places; three regular meals were to be
administered in one day, all in an orderly, civilized form; beds were
to be made, rooms swept and dusted, dishes washed, knives scoured, and
all the et cetera to be attended to. Now for getting "help," as Mrs.
Trollope says; and where and how were we to get it? We knew very few
persons in the city; and how were we to accomplish the matter? At
length the "house of employment" was mentioned; and my husband was
dispatched thither regularly every day for a week, while I, in the
mean time, was very nearly _dispatched_ by the abundance of work at
home. At length, one evening, as I was sitting completely exhausted,
thinking of resorting to the last feminine expedient for supporting
life, viz., a good fit of crying, my husband made his appearance, with
a most triumphant air, at the door. "There, Margaret, I have got you a
couple at last--cook and chambermaid." So saying, he flourished open
the door, and gave to my view the picture of a little, dry,
snuffy-looking old woman, and a great, starin