detract from your beauty. Men cannot
resist beauty and tears. Never mar their effect with anything bordering
on sobs and hysteria; such violent manifestations being neither refined
nor artistic. A scene in which one person does the talking must be
limited in time. No ordinary man can keep at white heat fifteen minutes;
if his victim says nothing, he will soon exhaust himself. Remember every
time you speak in the way of defense, you give him a new text on which
to branch out again. If silence is ever golden, it is when a husband is
in a tantrum."

In due time Mr. S. arrived, laden with Christmas presents, and Charlotte
came over to tell me that she had passed through the ordeal. I will give
the scene in her own words as nearly as possible. "My husband came
yesterday, just before dinner, and, as I expected him, I had all things
in order. He seemed very happy to see me and the children, and we had a
gay time looking at our presents and chatting about Washington and all
that had happened since we parted. It made me sad, in the midst of our
happiness, to think how soon the current of his feelings would change,
and I wished in my soul that I had not bought the stoves. But, at last,
dinner was announced, and I knew that the hour had come. He ran upstairs
to give a few touches to his toilet, when lo! the shining stoves and
pipes caught his eyes. He explored the upper apartments and came down
the back stairs, glanced at the kitchen stove, then into the dining
room, and stood confounded, for a moment, before the nickel-plated
'Morning Glory.' Then he exclaimed, 'Heavens and earth! Charlotte, what
have you been doing?' I remembered what you told me and said nothing,
but looked steadily out of the window. I summoned no tears, however, for
I felt more like laughing than crying; he looked so ridiculous flying
round spasmodically, like popcorn on a hot griddle, and talking as if
making a stump speech on the corruptions of the Democrats. The first
time he paused to take breath I said, in my softest tones: 'William,
dinner is waiting; I fear the soup will be cold.' Fortunately he was
hungry, and that great central organ of life and happiness asserted its
claims on his attention, and he took his seat at the table. I broke what
might have been an awkward silence, chatting with the older children
about their school lessons. Fortunately they were late, and did not know
what had happened, so they talked to their father and gradually restored