either, for I can't admit that a husband may not be as kind and
affectionate as a lover; for he can and will be if managed rightly,
and a great deal more so. Whenever I expressed a wish, it appeared
to give him pleasure to gratify it. Seeing this, instead of
suffering myself to be the mere recipient of kind attentions, I
began to vie with him in the sacrifice of selfish wishes and
feelings.

It is wonderful how all was changed after this. There were no more
struggles on my part to manage my husband, and yet I generally had
things my own way. Before I could not turn him to the right nor the
left, though I strove to do so with my utmost strength. Now I held
him only with a silken fetter, and guided him, without really
intending to do so, in almost any direction.

Several years have passed since that ever-to-be-remembered, happy
visit to Cape May. Not once since have I attempted any management of
my husband, and yet it is a rare thing that my wish is not, as it
used to be before we were married, his law. It is wonderful, too,
how he has improved. I am sure he is not the same man that he was
five years ago. But, perhaps, I see with different eyes. At any
rate, I am not the same woman; or, if the same, very unlike what I
then was.

So much for my efforts to manage a husband. Of the three ways so
faithfully tried, my fair readers will be at no loss to determine
which is best. I make these honest confessions for the good of my
sex. My husband, Mr. John Smith, will be no little surprised if this
history should meet his eye. But I do not believe it will interrupt
the present harmonious relations existing between us, but rather