se,
Or giveth happiness or peace,
Is low-esteemed in her eyes."

Few people appreciate the dignity of detail, although, from the days
of our childhood, we have heard rhymes, verses and proverbs
innumerable which aim to impress mankind with the importance of the
horse-shoe nail, of the rift in the lute, and the tiny worm-hole in
the vessel through which the "watery tide" entered.

The wife and mother, more than any other, knows what a great part of
life is made up of the little things, such as:--

"Sewing on the buttons,
Overseeing rations;
Soothing with a kind word
Guiding clumsy Bridgets,
Coaxing sullen cooks,
Entertaining company,
And reading recent books;
Woman's work!"

Strange as it may seem, the mind of the hireling cannot grasp the
importance of the lesser tasks that go to make up the sum of
existence. If you allow Bridget to prepare your guest chamber for an
unexpected friend, you will observe that she glories in Rembrandt-like
effects,--which, when viewed at a distance, assume a respectable
appearance. You, with brains back of your hands, will notice that
there is a tiny hole in the counterpane, dust under the table,
and--above all--that the soap-dish is not clean. Your servant may do
the rough work; the dainty, lady-like touch must be given by you.

You have an experienced waitress, and a jewel, if the dining-room and
table are perfect without your supervision. It may be only that a
teacup or plate is sticky or rough to the touch, a fork or a knife
needed, the steel or one of the carvers forgotten. But when the family
is assembled at the board, these trifles cause awkward pauses and
interruptions.

Other little cares are to ascertain that the water with which the tea
is made is boiling, that the alcohol lamp is filled, the flies brushed
from the room, the plates warmed, and the sugar-dishes and
salt-cellars filled. One housekeeper says that attention to these
duties always reminds her of the task of washing one's face. Nobody
notices if you keep your face clean, and you get no credit for doing
it, but if you did not wash it, all the world would remark upon the
dirt.

Often the work which "doesn't show" takes most time, and tries the
temper. And the hardest part of it all is that it is so frequently
caused by others' laziness or delinquencies. If John would only use an
ash-receiver, instead of strewing the veranda-floor with ashes and
burnt matches; if he would "j