THE DAY'S WORK.


It is safe to say that no class of women in the civilized world is
subjected to such incessant trials of temper, and such temptation to be
fretful, as the American housekeeper. The reasons for this state of things
are legion; and, if in the beginning we take ground from which the whole
field may be clearly surveyed, we may be able to secure a better
understanding of what housekeeping means, and to guard against some of the
dangers accompanying it.

The first difficulty lies in taking for granted that successful
housekeeping is as much an instinct as that which leads the young bird to
nest-building, and that no specific training is required. The man who
undertakes a business, passes always through some form of apprenticeship,
and must know every detail involved in the management; but to the large
proportion of women, housekeeping is a combination of accidental forces
from whose working it is hoped breakfasts and dinners and suppers will be
evolved at regular periods, other necessities finding place where they
can. The new home, prettily furnished, seems a lovely toy, and is
surrounded by a halo, which, as facts assert themselves, quickly fades
away. Moth and rust and dust invade the most secret recesses. Breakage and
general disaster attend the progress of Bridget or Chloe. The kitchen
seems the headquarters of extraordinary smells, and the stove an abyss in
its consumption of coal or wood. Food is wasted by bad cooking, or
ignorance as to needed amounts, or methods of using left-over portions;
and, as bills pile up, a hopeless discouragement often settles upon both
wife and husband, and reproaches and bitterness and alienation are guests
in the home, to which they need never have come had a little knowledge
barred them out.