THE title of this volume sufficiently indicates its purpose. Thestories of which it is composed have been mainly written with the endof creating for woman, in the various life-trials through which she hasto pass, sympathy and true consideration, as well in her own sex as inours. We are all too much engrossed in what concerns ourselves—in ourown peculiar wants, trials, and sufferings—to give that thought toothers which true humanity should inspire. To the creator of fictitioushistories is, therefore, left the task of reminding us of our duty, bypresenting pictures from the world of life around us—moving pictures,in which we may not only see the effect of our actions upon others, butalso the relations of others to society, and thus learn to sympathizewith the tried and the tempted, the suffering and the oppressed, thegrief-stricken and the mourner. It is good for us, at times, to forgetourselves; to think of others and feel a heart-warm interest in allthat concerns them. If the perusal of this volume has such an effectupon the reader's mind, it will accomplish all that its author desires;for right feeling is but the prompter to right action.
This book is to be followed, immediately, by other volumes, to thenumber of twelve, printed in uniform style: the series, when complete,to be called, "ARTHUR'S LIBRARY FOR THE HOUSEHOLD."
"MARRIED LIFE," the volume to come after this, is passing through thepress, and will be ready for publication in a few days.
I WAS very unhappy, from a variety of causes, definable andundefinable. My chambermaid had been cross for a week, and, by talkingto my cook, had made her dissatisfied with her place. The mother offive little children, I felt that I had a weight of care andresponsibility greater than I could support. I was unequal to the task.My spirits fell under its bare contemplation. Then I had beendisappointed in a seamstress, and my children were, as the saying is,"in rags." While brooding over these and other dishearteningcircumstances, Netty, my chambermaid, opened the door of the room whereI was sitting, (it was Monday morning,) and said—
"Harriet has just sent word that she is sick, and can't come to-day."
"Then you and Agnes will have to do the washing