HOW A MARRIED WOMAN GOES TO SLEEP.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2162, 29 January 1881, Page 3

HOW A MARRIED WOMAN GOES TO SLEEP.

Ono who hau the experience of real life, and who is married, writes: —lnstead of thinking what she should have attended to before going to bed, she thinks of it afterwards. While she is revolving these matters in her mind, and while snugly tucked up in i bed, the old man is scratching his legs in 1 front of the fire, and wondering how ho shall pay the next month’s rent. i Suddenly she says— 11 James, did you look the door?” “ Which door,” said James, “ The cellar door,” said oho, “ No,” said James. “ Well, you had better go down and lock it, for 1 heard some person in the back yard last night.” Accordingly, James paddles down stairs, and locks the door. About the time James returns, and is going to got into bed, she remarks, “ Did you shut the stair door ?” “No,” said James. “ Well, if it is not shut the cat will get up in the bedroom.” “ Let her come up then,” said James illnaturedly. “My goodness, no,” returns the wife, “she’d suck the baby’s breath.” Then James paddles downstairs again, and steps on a tack, and closes the stair door, and curses the cat, and returns to the bedroom. Just as ho begins to climb into his couch, his wife observes, “I forgot to bring up some water. Suppose you bring up some m the big tie.” And so James, with a muttered remark, goes down into the dark kitchen, and tails over a chair, and rasps all the tin ware oif the wall in search of the big tin, and then jerks the stair door open, and howls, “Where the deuce are the matches ?” She gives him minute directions where to find the matches, and adds that she would rather go and got water herself than to have the neighborhood raised about it.' After which James finds the matches, procures the water, comes up-stairs, and plunges into bed. Presently his wife says, "James, let’s have an understanding about money matters. Now, next week I’ve got to pay ” “I don’t know what you’ve got to pay, and I don’t oare,” shouts James, as he lurches around, and jams his face against the wall, “ all I want is sloop.” “ That’s all very well for you,” snaps his wife, a* she pulls the cover viciously, “you never think of the worry and trouble I have, and there’s Araminta, who, I believe, is taking the measles.” “Let her take ’em,” says James. Hereupon she begins to cry softly, but about the time James is falling into a gentle doze, she punches him in the ribs with her elbow, and says, “ Did you hoar that scandal about Mrs -Jones?”

« What Jones ?” says James sleepily. “ Why, Mrs Jones.” “Where?” inquired James. “ I declare,” says the wife, “ you are getting more stupid every day.’’ “ Well, the day before yesterday Susan Smith told Mrs Thomson that Sam Baker had said that Mrs Jones had—”

Hero she pauses and listens. James is snoring in profound slumber. With a snort of rage she pulls all the covers off him, wraps herself up in them, and lies awake till two a.m,, thinking how badly abused she is. And this is the way a married woman goes to •loop.—“ American paper."

entering in.

The church was dim and silent With the hush before the prayer, Only the solemn trembling Of the organ stirred the air. Without, the sweet, still sunshine. Within, the holy calm, Where priest and people waited For the swelling of the psalm. Slowly the door swung open And a little baby girl, Brown-eyed, with brown hair falling In many a wavy curl, With soft cheeks flushing hotly. Shy glances downward thrown. And small hands clasped before her, Stood in the aisle alone. Stood halt abashed, half frightened, Unknowing where to go, While like a wind-rocked flower, The form swayed to and fro ; And the changing color fluttered In the little troubled face, As from side to side she wavered With a mute, imploring grace. It was but for a moment; What wonder that we smiled, By such a strange, sweet picture From holy thoughts beguiled. When up rose some one softly. And many an eye grew dim, As through the tender silence He bore the child with him. And I—l wondered (losing The sermon and the prayer) If when sometime l enter The “ many mansions ” fair, And stand abashed and drooping In the portals golden glow, Our God will Bend an angel To show mo where to go !