ge of changes to come which
indefinitely brooded over me.

The first premonitory symptom was the look of apprehensive suspicion
with which the female senate regarded the genial sunbeams that had
always glorified our bow-window.

"This house ought to have inside blinds," said Marianne, with all the
confident decision of youth; "this carpet will be ruined if that sun
is allowed to come in like that."

"And that dirty little canary must really be hung in the kitchen,"
said Jenny; "he always did make such a litter, scattering his seed
chippings about; and he never takes his bath without flirting out some
water. And, mamma, it appears to me it will never do to have the
plants here. Plants are always either leaking through the pots upon
the carpet, or scattering bits of blossoms and dead leaves, or some
accident upsets or breaks a pot. It was no matter, you know, when we
had the old carpet; but this we really want to have kept nice."

Mamma stood her ground for the plants,--darlings of her heart for many
a year,--but temporized, and showed that disposition towards
compromise which is most inviting to aggression.

I confess I trembled; for, of all radicals on earth, none are to be
compared to females that have once in hand a course of domestic
innovation and reform. The sacred fire, the divine furor, burns in
their bosoms; they become perfect Pythonesses, and every chair they
sit on assumes the magic properties of the tripod. Hence the dismay
that lodges in the bosoms of us males at the fateful spring and autumn
seasons denominated house-cleaning. Who can say whither the awful
gods, the prophetic fates, may drive our fair household divinities;
what sins of ours may be brought to light; what indulgences and
compliances, which uninspired woman has granted in her ordinary mortal
hours, may be torn from us? He who has been allowed to keep a pair of
pet slippers in a concealed corner, and by the fireside indulged with
a chair which he might _ad libitum_ fill with all sorts of pamphlets
and miscellaneous literature, suddenly finds himself reformed out of
knowledge, his pamphlets tucked away into pigeonholes and corners, and
his slippers put in their place in the hall, with, perhaps, a brisk
insinuation about the shocking dust and disorder that men will
tolerate.

The fact was, that the very first night after the advent of the new
carpet I had a prophetic dream. Among our treasures of art was a
little etching, by an English a