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The influence of women, in the home and in the world, is so vast that it is impossible to conceive its limit. Women give us birth-nurture us in childhood—tend us with affectionate regard in youth-associate with us in manhood-unite with and become part of us, elevate or degrade us through life. Civilization grows out of woman's influence. feel of the Divine harmonies of existence-the heroic actions of true greatness—the serene, Christ-like principles of Charity and Love owes much to the influence of women. We cannot recognize our own high mission without at the same time recognizing that of women. We cannot stir devotedly in the cause of righteousness, move manfully in the ways of freedom, live lovingly in the smiles of happiness, without admitting women to an equality with ourselves. If we would see humanity free in Virtue and Religion, we must direct our efforts to the freedom and culture of women.

To this end we devote these pages, believing that all ameliorative measures which aim exclusively at raising the fallen, without dealing with the causes in the home, must inevitably fail to regenerate the world. To do good, men must put off antiquated prejudices, they must enter the habitations of the poor, and, if possible, discover the broken strings of the instrument which harmonises life. We would aid them to repair the domestic lyre. We would, in this our earnest work, regard with tenderness the victims of a false and unnatural theory, so that by kind, sympathising teaching we may induce reform.

Perchance, it may be more difficult to photograph the exact likeness of a model wife with the pen than it would be to the artist to delineate the personal attractiveness of a model woman with the brush, because we have to deal with the soul, the intellect, and the habits, not the external, decaying, physical beauty of the woman. We introduce our Model Wife.

She is of no particular divinity of feature, has no false, flippant passion for dress, no silly unenviable notions above her sphere, no idle, whimsical, novel-loving, maudlin, sentimental, lachrymable waywardness. She is of ordinary personal attractiveness, attired in plain, neat, and clean apparel, endowed with a strong sense of domestic propriety, loving to read, but never in the midst of washing, house cleaning, and other domestic labours. She has just entered the marriage state, she is about twenty-five years of age, has been inured to privation, and thoroughly understands the nature of hard domestic toils. She has united herself with a journeyman mechanic-her union is the result of both prudence and love. She enters on her new mode of life with confidence, and is prepared, as far as practical, to perform her duty. Her husband has been tolerably economical, and has been fortunate

in keeping work since he has served his apprenticeship. They have a small cottage and many indispensable house utensils and useful articles of furniture and all looks sunshine. He is a man of little book-knowledge; but is, nevertheless, shrewd, temperate, and industrious. He is very happy in his new home his own home-with his dear wife. She abominates extravagance of every kind, so their wedding day has passed in inexpensive blessedness. The Model Wife, divested of all distasteful squeamishness, studies her husband first, her home next, and herself last. He is very happy—she must endeavour to keep him so. She has discernment, and provides for the future. He begins work at six o'clock in the morning. The Model Wife rises at half-past six-never later than seven. Her first duty is to open wide the bed-room window, throw open the bed clothes, and allow the pure morning air to permeate the apartment and all within it. She then descends

. to the room below, lights the fire, sets the kettle on it, and finds occupation in sweeping and cleansing the rooms, emptying away all slops, dusting and arranging the furniture, washing her face and hands, and preparing breakfast. Punctuality with her is a virtue. She never allows her husband to find her behind in attention. He comes to his breakfast, and sees his coffee just smoking in the cup, his toast or bread-and-butter all prepared. He looks about him—at a glance he beholds order and comfort. He looks at his wife, sitting opposite him at the table, whereon the edibles rest on a snow-white table cloth, and he sees her clean and smiling.

All the piquant vexations of shop-creation are forgotten- he enjoys his meal with satisfaction, and therefore digests it with ease. His time is short, some twenty minutes allowed for mastication. He returns to his handicraft. Now, our Model Wife has to devote herself again to house duties, idleness and dirt being foreign to her nature. She is again up in the bed-room looking over the blankets, sheets, and bed-ticking, with a view to keep them mended. Bestowing her best efforts in making the bed, thoroughly shaking and smoothing it. Bed curtains are not in her list of household necessities, her ideas favour health too much for her to use them. She washes the room, taking special care to cleanse the part under the bed. Not a cupboard, crevice, or skirting escapes the application of the flannel and water. After this she examines the walls and ceiling in order to divest them of cobwebs. Every room in the cottage is investigated, and, when practicable before dinner, thoroughly put to rights. Every window in the house is thrown open, and kept so until the atmosphere is impregnant with health-giving oxygen. She is careful to attend in time to the dinner preparations. She peels the potatoes with an

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eye to economy, and is thoroughly housewifely in her mode of cooking them. She learns that the substance of the potatoe is farinaceous—that the starch, or nutrition, is nearest the skin — that the plant is a poison known as the deadly night-shade. From this knowledge she habits herself to boil the potatoes in two or three waters. She takes as much care with the greens, boiling them nice and soft to make them digestible. The meat she suspends before the fire, and is careful not to over-roast it, her object being to keep the juices in and make it waste as little as possible in cooking. If she have only a mutton chop or a half-pound of steak to cook, she never fries it, but always cooks it in the above-mentioned way. The potatoes she renders delicious by well mashing them and admixing a little butter, pepper, and salt with them. Her dinners are generally regulated by the markets--when mutton is dear and beef less in price, she chooses beef. Occasionally she purchases a little fish, a rabbit, some asparagus, spinach, and turnip-tops, to give a change; but she waits till the decline of the seasons rather than give a price for it exceeding her means.

Sometimes she prepares puddings and then she reduces the supply of meat. Bread puddings yield the most nutrition ; knowing this, she saves the broken pieces of bread and works them up into puddings. She is mostly guided in what she prepares by the taste of her husband, being desirous of pleasing him in this respect as well as every other. , When dinner is over, and the husband has returned to his work, our Model Wife having diligently placed her “house in order,' applies soap and water to her neck, face, and arms. She then invests herself in an evening dress, carefully combs and curls her hair, hunts among the calico and linen for needlework, and busies herself in looking over her husband's shirts, stockings, and other clothes, making sure that there is neither a missing button nor a failing stitch. By this plan of operation she saves much time, expense, and happiness. Her next attention is to her own wardrobe, then she fills up her time with new workshirts, flannels, drawers, &c., for her husband, petticoats, gowns, &c., for herself, not forgetting certain miniature articles. Thus she finds abundant occupation for a long time to come. Such is a brief summary of our Model Wife's daily routine.

In the evening her husband, often jaded and oppressed with his day's toil, enters his cottage. His chair is ready for him in its accustomed place, his slippers are at hand, his tea is prepared, and his wife, with loving and smiling glances, gives him affectionate welcome. His daily routine has been much dissimilar from his wife's. It may be that he has been overworked, excited to bitterness by brutal companions or the snarls and oppression of an unjust foreman or master. He is

"now at home. Although his feelings have been terribly galled, and he is a little peevish as a consequence, yet the order, cleanliness, and comfortableness of his home, together with the true womanly sympathy and attention of his wife, break the harsh vibrations of his mind and bring him over to full and hearty appreciation of the music of domestic life.

In this picture we see how the husband is made submissive to uncontrollable trouble, by the simple study and apparent attention to trifles of his wife. It will happen at times that the husband, in spite of his knowledge of the injustice, will address his wife in ungentle and unloving tones, owing to the fact of his mind, in the workshop or elsewhere, having been submitted to untoward influences. What, under such circumstances, does the Model Wife ? She philosophically endures and patiently complains. not. Thus, by her sweetness, evenness of


and rare goodness, she soon disarms querulousness and reinstates confidence.

It is her delight, in the summer evenings, to induce her husband to take her for a walk. In this practice she gains a beneficial change for herself and affords means of keeping him genially employed. She rarely troubles him about the

markets, deeming his duties at the workshop ample enough. In all her shoppings she brings the principle of economy to the test, her object always being to purchase what she hath need of as reasonably cheap as possible. She knows the value of money, and having her husband's earnings in her keeping, would deem it a vile sin to squander them thoughtlessly in small overcharges or in articles of a nature wholly unrequisite. Thus, by forethought and frugality, our Model Wife saves her home from wreck and keeps free of debt. She has influenced her husband to get initiated a member of a benefit society, and never forgets to keep the small weekly contributions regularly paid. Here is a provision for sickness, a wise preparation for adversity.


OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Every one knows that a boy, amongst boys, who would dare to commence a tałe with those ugly crotchets of manhood called dates, would be voted "a bore," and compelled to give place to the real half whispering, half laughing, half trembling lad who could recount the orthodox version of “Jack, Bill, and Tom,” and begin it in the boy-orthodox manner of “once upon a time.” Hence, in accordance with our wish now and then to be boyish, if our readers were all French or Irish, or anything except matter of fact “Englishers,” or, perhaps, in some cases, worse than matter of fact Caledonians, we

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would offer high bribes for the character of story-teller, for we would beg of our more patriarchial friends to go back with the sun of fancy, upon the dial of Ahaz, just the necessary number of degrees, and, fancying themselves once again boys and girls, allow us to introduce them to a dear old friend, in the dear old fashion, of once upon a time. But next to roast beef and plum-pudding, there is nothing an Englishman insists upon so strongly, as dates; and as for a Scotchman, why you know it is his pride to tell you the exact day and hour when “Jean forgot to wind the clock,” or “Sandy cut his wisdom tooth." Therefore, whilst still adhering to our opinion, we desire very gracefully to yield, as in courtesy bound, to this ledgerlike fancy for chronological facts and figures, still, however, holding onė assertion far above it, viz. :—that men, by their passion for this mode, fall into many errors, and that boys, by neglecting it, often arrive at simple truths. They glance with rapture at the glowing deeds of departed greatness, pick out what is noble to talk of, to dream of, sometimes to live by, nay, history tells us, in some cases, even to die by, save themselves the trouble of telling you which action was done on the 1st of September, 1860, and

escape the rather questionable honour of being termed wearisome babblers for their pains. However, as we have said, the custom is rooted, and we give in.

So it came to pass that on November 10th, 1728, an Irish country curate's wife presented his reverence, and more than his reverence, with a fine Irish son;–Irish in his face for Pat was written on every feature, Irish in his manners—for his very squallings and kissings

, were all in the style of the brogue,–Irish in his heart-for, ere he grew big enough for his first trowsers, his reverend father's tom-cat might have borne witness—though we solemnly believe it would have been unwilling witness-against one of the most waggish, teasing, but kind-hearted lads that ever trod the turf of St. Patrick.

With all due sprinkling and crossing and ceremonial observance, followed very likely by a good "currant cake, and a drap of the cratur,” in which all good neighbours might drink better luck still to this newly launched Goldsmith, they gave him a fearful historical name; they sent him into life to redeem from sternness and disloyalty the terrible name of Oliver.

So we have now fairly entered into our truthful little tale, respecting one whose name young Englishmen should never tire of


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