DOMESTIC SELFISHNESS.

Colonist, Volume IV, Issue 320, 13 November 1860, Page 4

DOMESTIC SELFISHNESS.

Evidently one of the male sex was expected in Mrs. Barber's cosy parlor. A comfortable arm-chair, dressing-gown and slippers, the tea-table with its shining ware, potted meats, light bread, yellow butter, and delicate cream, showed conclusively that they waited somebody's coming. A contemplated absence of three days had lengthened into a week, bringing neither Mr. Barber nor a letter from him; consequently Mrs. Barber looked slightly anxious, kept a close watch on the clock, peered out of the windovv into the gathering darkness very often, listened until she imagined all sorts of sounds, and made herself quite miserable by thinking that some horrible accident had befallen the object of her solicitude. Then smiling at her cowardice and nervousness, she drew the curtains closer, lighted the lamp, swept up the hearth, and sat down to watch the blue flame flicker around the glowing coal. ' Good evening, Sarah! Why, you look as startled as though I was a ghost, instead of the best friend you have in the world ! Pray, hasn't that husband of yours come home yet ? No ? Then take my advice, and don't brush his coat nor kiss him again for two months. Serve him right for leaving you alone a whole week.'

The speaker was Lizzie Hunt, a lively, dark-eyed woman, who just then tripped into the room.

* My dear friend, you haven't been married a year,' said Mrs. Barber, with something like a sigh.

* Heigho ho ! I'm not going to borrow trouble yet awhile, I'm sure,' returned Mrs. Hunt, seeing herself on an ottoman. ' Look here! See what Fred has brought me home from town —this pretty dress, and such a love of a book. Isn't he a thoughtful husband.'

• They are very handsome, Lizzie, and you cannot prize too highly the affection that prompts these tokens of remembrance.'

Lively Mrs. Hunt looked serious, and gazed into the fire in silence for a moment. Steps were heard outside, then in the hall. Mrs. Barber hurried to open the inner door.

' Good evening, Sarah; how do you do, Mrs. Hunt ?' was Mr. Barber's salutation, as he entered.

He didn't shake hands with his wife, or kiss her. Why should he? Hadn't he been married seven years ? It seemed entirely uncalled for.

'Oh John, I'm so glad you've come!' she exclaimed, not heeding this matter-of-fact greeting. 'You staid so long, I've been a good deal alarmed about you.'

'Yes, Mr. Barber, she has been very axious about you. I can testify to it, added Mrs. Hunt.

' Which was needless. I have told her repeatedly not to feel any solicitude about me when I am gone. Borrowing trouble is a useless expenditure of feeling,' quoth Mr. Barber.

' Well, I don't know how one can help it, under certain circumstances,' pursued impulsive Mrs. Hunt. ♦If I should be left alone so long, I should fret myself into a fever. 3

' Which would be simply babyish—begging your pardon my fair neighbor.' Mrs. Hunt shrugged her pretty shoulders, by way of answer.

While this colloquy was going on, Mr. Barber was getting out of his coat into his dressing-gown —but not unassisted. His wife untied his scarf, received his hat, helped off one coat and then another, held his wrapper in a convenient position for him to poke his arms into, transported two muddy boots into the kitchen, placed the slippers just under his feet, and wheeled the armchair into the snuggest corner.

Mrs. Hunt noted all tftese little attentions, and waited patiently for some acknowledgment of them. But she waited in ?ain; Mr. Barber manifestly regarded them as matters of course, neither by word or look indicating that he was particularly obliged to anybody. Mrs. Hunt bade her friend good night, observed to the occupant of the arm-chair that she hoped he would succeed in making himself comfortable, (which remark, however, savored of the sarcastic,) and went home to tell what a bear that Barber was, and what a slave Mrs. Barber made of herself.

'My dear, you shouldn't expect so much of us poor, guileless men. I dare say, now, that Mrs. Barber did nothing more than her duty," good-humoredly returned Mrs. Hunt's stronger half, when his wife had given vent to her indignation in unqualified terms.

' Perhaps not; but then one likes, occasionally, to get credit for doing one's duty,' retorted Mrs. Hunt.

Mrs. Hunt poked the fire violently in the grate, as an escape-valve for her resentment against Mr. Barber.

Meanwhile, the last-named gentleman toasted his feet to his satisfaction, rubbed his hands complacently in the genial warmth, looked gratified at the picture of comfort the room presented, and then wheeled around to the table and commenced a survey of the eatables before him.

' I don't see any butcher's meat,' he began, querulously. ' I always want something solid when I've been travelling. My system requires it.' • I am sorry that I don't happen to have any cooked, John; but if you will wait a few minutes, I will broil a steak for you,' replied his wife—to which proposition Mr. Barber acceded.

And so his patient helpmate re-entered her kitchen, to find the fire low and uncomfortably cold. After a long struggle with the refractory coal, which very nearly refused doing duty at that unusual hour, tne process of broiling was finished, and Mrs. Barber, victorious over all obstacles, though flushed and tired with her efforts, bore the expected article of food into the presence of her lord, who, by way of thanks for the favor, protested ' that she had been gone long enough to cook a whole dinner.' Mrs. Barber waited upon him as assiduously as if he had been a prince, and in fact, did everything she could do, except put the food into his mouth. After disposing of an unfashionable quantity of bread, and every vestige of the meat, as well as three cups of tea, Mr. Barber wheeled about again, placed both feet on the fender, and applied himself industriously to his FP cMrs. Barber had no appetite; anxiety and watching had taken away all desire for food. She wanted to know what had happened in her husband's absence; if friends had sent any messages; if he had brought her a souvenir of remembrance —ever so trifling a gift; if his business transactions had been succesful; in short she wanted to hear what every woman likes (and every man too)—the news. But she knew—as who does not ?—that a hungry man is always cross, and had refrained from asking questions until the momentous business ot eating had been accomplished, when she sat down and awaited any communications he might see fit to make. A long interval of silence succeeded. The clock ticked and the smoke accumulated, yet not a word had been spoken. Mrs. Barber looked wishfully at her husband. He did not like to be questioned, and she knew it. But what was the woman to do ? If he wouldn't talk voluntarily, wasn't she justified in trying to coax him to be communicative ? She made the attempt.

' Did you have a safe journey, John ?' llt would seem so. I'm in a tolerable state of preservation—am I not ?' 'Yes; but did you have a pleasant time ?'

•It strikes me that travelling isn't the most agreeably occupation in the world; however, opinions differ about that,' said Mr. Barber, crossing his legs more comfortably, and puffing a large mouthful of smoke dangerously near Mrs. Barber's face. Now she did not like the smell of tobacco, it nauseated her and made her head ache. But as the habit was so firmly fixed in him, and he seemed to take such solid satisfaction in its indulgence, she never opposed him, sacrificing self, daily and hourly, at the shrine of duty.—-Perhaps at this particular time Mr. Barber did not intend to be impolite; if he did, a good deal of nonchalance accompanied the action. The wife coughed and moved back a little. 'Did you see my father and mother ?' she continued, with some hesitation.

'Yes.' This brief monosyllable and a column of smoke came out of Mr. Barber's mouth together.

1 Did they send any message to me ?' was the next persevering query. • Nothing in particular.' «Did you bring the package I sent for V she resumed, trying to speak cheerfully. ' No,' was the short reply. * Why not, John ?' she continued. «Because I forgot it, Mrs. Barber,' said her liege, in a voice that betokened entire conviction that he was an ill-used man. Disappointed, and desparing of eliciting any information out of her close-mouthed husband, Mrs. Barber made no further effort at conversation, but sat and meditated upon this disagreeable phase in his character. Were her questions unreasonable ? Were they put when he was cold, or wet, or .hungry,, or otherwise unfavorably situated ? A conscientious negative followed these mental queries.

Mr. Barber was not particularly uamible or ill-disposed. He was simply intensely selfish, and this selfishness was so incorporated into his being, that he had no well defined idea of how much petty meanness he was capable. Exacting in all that concerned himself, he had very loose and vague ideas of what was due to others. A contemplated absence of two days had, for sufficient reason, lengthened into a week. Mrs. Barber was alone, and with the papers fall of casualties, naturally solicitous for his safety ; ibv to the credit of true womanhood be it spoken, neither selfishness nor neglect do readily alienate a kind heart. Slow why did not this absent husband pen a few thoughtful words to the waiting wife ? Because, forsooth, it was too much trouble, and he really didn't think the matter of enough consequence to spend fifteen minutes of time and a postage stamp upon it. That she should care to know his movements in detail or in general, or be desirous of hearing "what Mrs. A. said or Mrs. B. did, or anxious to receive tidings from friends, or curious to listen to those little items that the most wise, at times, evince an interest in, was to him nearly incomprehensible. A morbid curiosity, a love of tattle, he.denomi-

natedit —forgetful that he had himself been edified in the relation of these very details.

To be sure, Mr. Barber would have been seriously disturbed, had his wife failed to have had a good supper and a bright fire ready for him; but he didn't think it politic to swell a trifle into a great matter by acknowledging the same, either by appreciative words or smiles. It was in the way of her duty—wasn't it; and why should she covet reward ? Then, again, our model husband never was guilty of making his wife presents. To his mind, it was very like throwing money away. How exceedingly unromantic, too! If it was one's cousin, or one's sweetheart, it might do; but a gift for one's wife was absurd! —We know to a certainty, also, that Mr. Barber bad not hinted to "his wife, in the remotest manner, since the day he gave her the horor of bearing his name, that she was anything more to him than a convenient useful domestic machine, which, by skilful management, might be able to grind out a good deal of drudgery. That she should aspire to be his confidant, or adviser, or equal, had never entered his astute head. In fact his thoughts were so full of " Mr. Barber " that there was seldom a gap into which another personality could crowd. Is it a marvel, then, that Mrs. Barber's heart was often sorrowful, or that the unsatisfied part of her nature cried out for sympathy and loving kindness ? And there are other wives who aspire to something more than enough to eat, drink, and wear! Before retiring, our disappointed wife inspected Mr. Barber's carpet bag. In it she found a qnantity of soiled linen, a new scarf, an opera-tie, French gloves, and a box of choice cigars—an inventory that more fully confirmed his complete selfishness.

It was Mrs. Barber's habit to rise early. Her husband's business demanded his attention at an hour which obliged her to be stirring betimes. So the next morning our model man shook his wife gently, and said: ' Sarah! Sarah! the clock is striking six. It is time to get up.—-You may as well be getting breakfast." * I'm not well, John,' feebly responded Mrs. Barber. 'I've slept but little, and been very restless all night. I wish you'd get up and make the fire, and perhaps I shall feel better soon.'

Mr. Barber demurred some time before complying with this reasonable request. • Making a fire' (especially in the winter season) was so much out of his sphere, that it seemed a mountain iask to contemplate. He did not gain a victory over wood and coals without a struggle.—One burned too quick, and the other not quick enough; one crackled and sputtered, as if laughing at his efforts; the other lay cold, black, and defiant. Lucifer-matches and patience at last getting the mastery, Mr. Barber marched up-stairs, and proudly announced the fact.

11 fear J shall not be able to get your breakfast, John, my head is so giddy,' answered Mrs. Barber, raising her head with an effort.

' Now don't go and succumb to a headache, Sarah,' he continued, in a disappointed tone. ' There's no use in succumbing to illness.—Only think you won't be ill, and I'll warrant you'll be all right in an hour or two.'

Mrs. Barber sighed, while a sharp pain in her head contracted her features. At that moment Master Robert Barber, a small personage of five years, scampered into the chamber and announced his wish to be * dressed.' His mother made a movement to attend to his wants, but a sudden f'aintnass forced her to desist.

' Can't you dress him, John ?' she asked, looking pityingly at the little shivering object in the night dress.

* I never could dress a child, there's so much pinning and tying and buttoning to do. He can wait, I dare say." With which remark Mr. Barber went down stairs to try his luck at breakfast-making.

He, like many of his sex, had an exalted idea of his culinary acquirements. His wife was a notable cook and housekeeper: yet John Barber, though he liked to eat her nice pastry and dishes, always insisted, in her presence, that his mother was the only woman who* could roast properly or make a pudding fit to eat. 'Getting breakfast,' qyoth Mr, Barber, as he stirred the fire and spread the cloth, •is a very simple thing; and why women need make such a fuss about it is more than I can account for. Let me see—yes, I'll cut the meat, and then I'll toast the bread. I'll venture to say that I can do both quite as well as the best cook in the country,'

Mr. Barber cut himself off a steak, laid it upon the gridiron, and placed it upon a bed of hot coals. Precisely two minutes sufficed to fix it firmly upon its iron bed, from which a good deal of pulling and 9craping was necessary to raise it. A dried and burned surface rewarded the eye of the cook, who went through' with the ' turning' process with exactly the same results. He was just placing himself at the table when he suddenly recollected that he had no coffee, and what was worse, the water was still in the cistern.

'Confound it, I forgot to fill the kettle! I wonder how folks contrive to remember everything!' he exclaimed petulantly. • But I'll go without coffee; I can and I will!" .........

Mr. Barber would have complained bitterly had his wife placed before him a breakfast of burned, unpalatable steak, and cold water for beverage; now, however, he partook of the delicacies his skill and judgment had provided, without a thought of his exacting demands, or an appreciatory feeling of his wife's care and attention to his numerous wants. But he was destined to have a lesson. Not thinking his wife's illness of much consequence, he left the remains of his 'juicy beefstake' and dry bread upon the table, and betook himself to his business. On his

return at noon, he found everything in the kitchen as he had left it, and Mrs. Barber so much worse, that he really began to think she was seriously indisposed. Turning and tossing, her face flushed with fever, and trying to quiet little Robert, who, cold and hungry, was crying bitterly, she touched the outer edge of Mr. Barber's sympathies sufficiently to induce him to go for Mrs. Hunt, who was soon in the chamber of her friend, with a finger on her pulse and a hand on her throbbing forehead.

• Why, Mr. Barber! how could you be so thoughtless as to let your wife lie here, alone, and suffer all this morning !' she exclaimed. 'Don't you see that she has a high fever, and must be attended to at once ? Do run for the doctor, while I see to this poor child.' Mr. Barber did as he was bidden, without comment. To speak the truth, his conscience pricked him a little for his neglect, and the uncharitable, not to say unkind, words he had spoken in the morning. 'I declare, Sarah, I'm out of patience with your husband. 1' He's the very essence of selfishness and self-conceit! Do you remeber what a fuss he made, the other day, about a headache? and how you made herb-tea, and bathed his head, and brought the camphor and the harts-horn, and walked on tip-toe all day to avoid noise, and gave up going to buy a bonnet with me, because you said 4 John was too ill to be left alone ?' And here you are, in a high fever and he "

« Don't, Lizzie!' implored Mrs. Barber. ♦ John is thoughtless I know ; but ke doesn't mean any harm, I'm sure. He isn't used to my being ill, and it makes him impatient' 1 Heartlesi, I should say,' rejoined Mrs. Hunt in an undertone, while she busied herself in kind offices for her friend.

It is not necessary to dwell upon tjhe days and weeks of suffering that fell to the lot" of poor Mrs. Barber. A painful and protracted illness, induced in a great measure by exposure and over-exertion, gave Mr. Barber a deeper insight into the mysteries of housekeeping. No body waited for him, now; he waited for everybody. When he failed to find his slippers and his shirts, he was assured that they were ♦laying about somewhere,' which proved true to the letter; for sometimes they were on the dining table and sometimes in the kitchen-drawer with the towels.

* Confound that jade for a nuisance!' he exclaimed one morning, being more than usually annoyed at the tardiness. «I haven't enjoyed myself a minute since Sarah was taken ill.'

'I'm glad of it, Mr. Barber,' said a voice; and turning quickly he met tjie black eyes of Mrs. Hunt. He was a little, a very little embarrassed. • I repeat that I'm glad of it!' she added, • and I hope that you'll be uncomfortable just long enough to teach you to appreciate your wife. She's been a drudge for you, Mr. Barber, since your marriage; always at your beck and call, she devoted all her time and thoughts to your service.—And for what? Nothing—absolutely nothing. She doesn't get a return even in such ] a small coin as a kiss.'

♦Women don't care about kisses after marriage. They have something more important to think of generally,' he said. ' They do care about kisses and kind words and pleasant smiles,' affirmed Mrs. Hunt energetically. • Sarah has made me an excellent wife,' said Mr. Barber.

' No doubt of that, though 1 presume 'to say you never told her so.' * 1 never did, upon my word! LizzieMrs. Hunt, I'm a tyrant, a bear, a brute,

'Go and tell her so; it will do her more good than all the medicine she can take. And mind you, Mr. Barber,' pursued Mrs. Hunt, ' don't forget to kiss her after you have told her that you are a brute. She'll be sure to believe it, then !'

Mrs. Hunt went home, and Mr. Barber went up stairs. What passed there is not recorded; but one thing is certain—Mrs. Barber's spirits revived wonderfully, and, as a consequence, her health rapidly improved. In a few weeks she was able to walk slowly about the house, arid in due time returned to her place in the family, from which the nurse was soon dismissed. The rooms gradually assumed their accustomed neat and cheerful look, while the table in the neat and pretty parlor renewed its attractions three times a day for Mr. Barber.

Mrs. Barber, made no more fires on cold winter mornings, was no longer the domestic drudge; she had a girl to help, and to attend in part to Master Robert; and John was no longer the indifferent recipient of her attentions, but a tenderer husband, a more loving companion, a better friend. The illness that she lamented was a blessing in disguise. , \

Sicilian Vespers.—The Sicilian vespers of 1860 were first rung, from the tower of Santa Maria degli Angeli, also called Delia Gancia. It was there that the first resistance of the Palermitans took place, and there that the brutality of the Neapolitan soldiery first appeared in all its horrors. To immortalise the heroic resistance made by the monks of that convent, the Minister of War has, by Garibaldi's order, made a present of a bell to the convent, accompanying it with the following letter: •Reverend Father.—lt is but common justice that a lasting memorial should recall to the memory of the heroic people of Palermo that place ;which was the cradle of the infant liberty of Sicily., It is for this reason that, according to orders given by the General Dictator, I now offer you a bell, upon which will be engraved the year, the day, and the hour in which the bells of the Convent cella Gancia aroused from their slumber the sons of Palermo, and called upon them to take up arms for the

destruction of an unbridled and iniquitous tyranny.—Orsini. Saxony.—-We hear from Dresden that the composer, Herr Richard Wagner, has been favored by a conditional amnesty from the King of Saxony. Herr Wagner may return to Germany, with the only exception of Saxony. The king's pardon, then, consists in not requiring the other German States to deliver the culprit up to him in case he should be found living in one of them. Saxony seems to have the precedence in its cruelty to political prisoners. The disclosures that have lately been made by the book of Herr Oelkers, one of the state prisoners recently released, are very painful, and come near to the Neapolitan state of things. Where, then, we may ask, is the humanising effect of scholarship ? The king is a scholar and has translated Dante.— Athenaeum.

Pusbyism.—At the marriage of the Rev. F. Hingeston, rector of Ringmore, Devon, and Martha Jane, only child of the Rev. H. Randolph, oi Bruton, a few days since, the service was full choral. The priests's portion was intoned by the Rev. Fi Randolph, uncle of the bride, the amens and responses being taken up by the choir. The marriage, as far as the "Blessing," was performed in the body of the church, after which the choir commenced the 128 th Psalm to a Gregorian tune; and during the chant the procession moved slowly forward to the altar, the ministering priest and the Rev. J. White, the incumbent, leading, and the bridegroom and bride, with their train, following in order. After the exhortation, which was said in monotone by the incumbent, the Holy Eucharist was celebrated, also chorally. The large church was crowded.

Look to Your Drainage.—The Incumbent of Sandgate writes to the Times with regard to a recent paragraph of the United Service Qazette, to the effect that a new pestilence had broken out in Shorncliff Camp. " The reports are (he says) in various particulars exaggerated. It is true that a species of fever, lamentably malignant while it lasted, broke out at Shorncliff last spring; but it was very quickly and effectually suppressed; and with the exception of that disease, which was confined exclusively to the camp (and which, according to eminent medical opinion, had its rise in some cause strictly local, such as insufficient drainage) both the military hospital and the town of Sandgate also, which immediately adjoins it, have been, through Divine mercy, singularly free for a length of time past from any sort of epidemic, as the sanitary statistics of the garrison and neighborhood could testify." ;

Miss Vandenhoff.—This lady, one of the most accomplished and amiable ladies of the day, and an actress of considerable merit, died a short time since. She was the daughter of Mr. Vandenhoff, whose intrinsic services have extended over fifty years. The Bbahmins.—A few days since the Rev. J. Ghunder Gangooly (of Calcutta)ja Brahmin convert, delivered a lecture in Belfast on " The Religion and Ceremonial Observances of the Brahmins." The attendance was very large. The reverend gentleman made himself understood by his hearers remarkably well. In the course of ! his remarks, the lecturer undertook to give a " correct idea of the car of Juggernaut." Having given an outline of the history of this great Hindoo deity, he went on to say that instead of Juggernaut being, as had been represented by travellers, a cruel and despotic god, that revelled in the destruction of poor people, and gloried in their being crushed to atoms beneath the wheels of his car, he was the most merciful and peaceful of all the Hindoo deities. It was an entirely mistaken idea of the missionaries to say otherwise. Juggernaut meant the " Lord of the Universe," and there would be nothing wrong in a Christian addressing his heavenly Farther in prayer, " Oh, thou Juggernaut" Accidents might occur with the car of Juggernaut, just as accidents happen in this country from railway and other carriages; but to say that it was part of the worship of Juggernaut to cast yourself under the wheels of his car was-a " mistake." The car which existed in the place he (Mr. Gangooly) came from, never killed either man or woman, and it was so old that a new one had lately to be made. He had, indeed, seen four stout men crushed to atoms in a moment under the car of the god; but in every religion there were subjects of infatuation who thought that by torturing their bodies they secured admission to heaven. Juggernaut demanded no human sacrifices; he was the Brahmin god of love, of peace, and mercy. Good Living.—-The following is the bill of fare on board the Cunard steamship Persia —Breakfast: Dishes of beefsteaks, ditto mutton chops, ditto pork chops, ditto veal cutlets, ditto smoked salmon, ditto broiled chicken, ditto fried ham, ditto cold meats, ditto stews, eggs in omelettes, ditto boiled, hominy, mush. Dinner: Soups, boulli; beef and pudding; dishes, fish, salmon, and soles; ditto mutton haunch, ditto lamb and mint, ditto veal, ditto pork and apple, ditto pigeon pies, ditto hot pot, ditto geese and gooseberry, ditto duck stewed, ditto fowls and parsley, ditto mince collops. ditto stewed rabbit, lobster patties, made dishes, lamb cutlets, calves' heads and bacon, ham and tongue, vegetables, assorted. Pastry: Apple pies, plum pies, currant pies, gooseberry pies, apple tarts, corn starch, Italian cream, currant cakes, French pastry, apple fritters, sago pudding, and plum pudding.