A WELL-REGULATED HOUSEHOLD

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CORRESPONDENT has asked, "What constitutes a well-regulated household?" The question cannot be answered in a single sentence, and the theme admits of no arbitrary treatment. It opens a large field for thought, and admits of many shades of opinion, but is extremely interesting, and always timely. An ill-regulated, illassorted household, is a place from which to flee. A well-regulated household is a refuge, a sanctuary, a true home.

To be ideal, a household should consist of congenial inmates. The simplest, and ordinarily the happiest family circle, consists of father, mother, and children. If grandparents are added, the family may be happy and tranquil, and greatly benefited by the presence in it of serene old age. On the other hand, old people who are querulous, hard to please, and in the habit of interfering in the family discipline, bring in an unfortunate influence, a leaven of peevishness and complaint. Outsiders in the home, whether kindred or acquaintances somewhat complicate the problem.

It may be stated with reasonable certainty, that in any well-regulated household, there is an acknowledged head; without somebody at the helm, the ship veers about at the mercy of wind and weather. Indoors, this head is the wife and mother. She controls the housekeeping, governs the children, and is responsible for the quiet and comfort of the home. Outdoors, the head is the father, who dictates the family attitude to the community; who pays the

family bills, and who stands for the family in its relation to the world. If father and mother are united in love and reciprocal confidence, there will be no conflict or clash, and each will complement the other in the decorous and skilful home management, which alone is productive of good results.

In the well-regulated household, the children yield prompt and amiable obedience to the wishes of their elders, and the young people, of an age to do as they deem best, defer from choice and from affection to those round them, not selfishly claiming their own way. Understand that there may be various ways of looking at most things, and that in non-essentials there may be the greatest liberty, but when the occasion calls for action, there must be unanimity in a well-regulated household.

Following out this line, an orderly household must have times and seasons, punctuality as to the home engagements, and, as a rule, method about meals. That is not a well-regulated home in which breakfast remains on the table for hours, because one or two members of the family are bent on prolonging their morning nap, irrespective of the household arrangements and convenience. Nor, is it much better where the man of the house, who might leave his office earlier if he would take the trouble, is habitually from thirty to forty-five minutes late to dinner at night. Punctuality is a corner stone in a well-regulated household.

Then, too, there must be mutual forbearance. If there is an invalid in the family, who requires special care and consideration, different members of the home should relieve one another in caring for her. Old people should have their privileges, should be considered, should not be

treated brusquely or with impatience. A fine courtesy prevails in a well-regulated household. Good manners tide

people over a good many rough places.

In the well-regulated home one does not hurt another's feelings. One does not tell a story to the mortification of another. The spirit of the home is embodied in the beautiful text: "Bear ye one another's burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ."

"I

REMEMBER in my early childhood," said the minister's wife, as she finished folding up the last package of garments for the missionary barrel, "seeing a lady who had been born without hands. She was a pretty, animated person, with black eyes and a clever tongue, and her people made a good deal of money out of her misfortune, as they carried her about for exhibition. Her feet, which I fancy she seldom used to walk upon, served her instead of hands. Very dexterously she could hold the pen or the scissors between her toes, and she not only wrote a very beautiful script, but cut out of paper many curious and pretty pictures, including profiles of her visitors in black paper. Poor woman! could any calamity be greater than never to have any hands to use?"

"Well," replied Aunt Betsy, looking whimsically at her own hands, roughened and knotted by the labors of many years, “I am not so sure. My hands have always had to toil so steadily, that I am doubtful whether I will be able to fold them when I get to heaven."

"Is it your idea, Aunt Betsy," said a young girl in the circle, “that in heaven people sit forever with their hands folded in utter idleness? That is not my thought of it at all. I believe we shall be as busy there as here, only we shall never have to do anything that we do not enjoy."

Aunt Betsy shook her gray head, "You are young, my child," she said, "and you have never known what it is to be all tuckered out. I shall rest if I can for at least a hundred years before I so much as touch a golden harp, or walk around among the angels, or do the least thing except get rested, when I am once safely home in my

Father's house. I often tell Reuben that things are queer, for he and I have had more than our share of hard work and hard knocks, and we both of us know what it is to be tired all to pieces."

"Now, Aunt Betsy," said the minister's wife, looking up cheerily, "you put down that sewing and sit right still in your chair, until I bring you a nice, hot cup of tea. You shall not do a blessed thing this whole afternoon, and we who are younger will wait on you hand and foot."

So Aunt Betsy had an afternoon of real peace. After she and the rest had gone home, the minister's wife and I sat down by the fire, in the twilight, for a bit of such chat as we used to have when we were girls together, and went to school half a lifetime ago. Instead of drifting into sentiment, we began to talk in a most practical fashion on the subject of hands and feet. The latter were ever pressing topics of interest in the parsonage, because there were six children, and they wore out shoes faster than the minister found it easy to provide new ones. The older children were reaching the age when they had ideas of their own about their dress.

"Cynthia," said the minister's wife, "is a good deal worried because I will not let her wear a tight shoe. Her feet, and her hands, too, are at the stage when they look a little large in proportion to the rest of her body, and she does not understand that they will not keep on growing, but will soon reach their fullest development, while she herself will stretch up and fill out, until she makes a fine, tall girl."

"You are very wise," I said, "to insist on a shoe for Cynthia, and for the others as well, that fits the foot comfortably, and is just a little bit longer than the child would prefer it to be. An infant's foot is the most beautiful thing in the world, but the foot of a young maiden, or a young man is seldom so perfect. People cram their feet from childhood, into shoes too tight for them, or force them