about this, that, and the
other condition of unpreparedness, and, having settled the visitor
in the parlor, set about marshalling the elements of a grand
dinner or supper, such as no person but a gourmand wants to sit
down to, when at home and comfortable; and in getting up this
meal, clearing away, and washing the dishes, we use up a good half
of the time which our guest spends with us. We have spread
ourselves, and shown him what we could do; but what a paltry,
heart-sickening achievement! Now, good Mr. Crowfield, thou friend
of the robbed and despairing, wilt thou not descend into our
purgatorial circle, and tell the world what thou hast seen there
of doleful remembrance? Tell us how we, who must do and desire to
do our own work, can show forth in our homes a homely, yet genial
hospitality, and entertain our guests without making a fuss and
hurly-burly, and seeming to be anxious for their sake about many
things, and spending too much time getting meals, as if eating
were the chief social pleasure. _Won't_ you do this, Mr.
Crowfield?

"'Yours beseechingly,

"'R.H.A.'"

"That's a good letter," said Jennie.

"To be sure it is," said I.

"And shall you answer it, papa?"

"In the very next 'Atlantic,' you may be sure I shall. The class that do
their own work are the strongest, the most numerous, and, taking one
thing with another, quite as well cultivated a class as any other. They
are the anomaly of our country,--the distinctive feature of the new
society that we are building up here; and if we are to accomplish our
national destiny, that class must increase rather than diminish. I shall
certainly do my best to answer the very sensible and pregnant questions
of that letter."

Here Marianne shivered and drew up a shawl, and Jennie gaped; my wife
folded up the garment in which she had set the last stitch, and the
clock struck twelve.

Bob gave a low whistle. "Who knew it was so late?"

"We have talked the fire fairly out," said Jennie.

* * * * *

REENLISTED.

Oh, did you see him in the street, dressed up in army-blue,
When drums and trumpets into town their storm of music threw,--
A louder tune than all the winds could muster in the air,
The Rebel winds, that tried so hard our flag in strips to tear?

You didn't mind him? Oh, you looked beyond him, then, perhaps,
To see the mounted o