il
back at once, saying,--

"I have left some at home larger than these, and they will be spoiled,
if the wind is not in our favor."

We will not carry our dilletantism so far as this, nor let it carry us
so far; still we are glad not to be driven to the expedient of the
Syrians, whose only butter is the fat procured from the tails of their
sheep,--which is literally being reduced to extremities.

By the way, something quite remarkable occurred in my first churning. I
began with one cup of cream and ended with a cup of butter and a full
cup of buttermilk! This law of expansion is paralleled only by that of
contraction, as shown to the farmer who took a brimming pail of dinner
to the sty; and after the little pig had eaten it all, the farmer put
him into the pail, and had room for another half of a pig beside.

* * * * *

But, dear M., it is hardly two moons since the bridal trunks were taken
from our hall, and you went away with the friend. You have scarcely been
domesticated long enough to see that bright tins bake badly, and that
one must crucify her pride by allowing them to blacken; yet so soon do I
overwhelm you with culinary suggestions. I am distressed to remember
them. But you must forgive and smile me into peacefulness again. And be
not discouraged, little housewife! It may take years of attention to
excel in bread-making, some skill even for boiling potatoes, and
common-sense for everything; but stand steadily beside your servants,
and watch their processes patiently. Take notes, experiment, amend, and
if there be failure, discover the reason; then it need not happen again.

And despite the difficulties of the practical, you and H. will not
slight the ideal. Love the work you are doing and must do; but when it
is done, oh, train the rose-vines over your door!

THE PEACE AUTUMN.

Thank God for rest, where none molest,
And none can make afraid,--
For Peace that sits as Plenty's guest,
Beneath the homestead shade!

Bring pike and gun, the sword's red scourge,
The negro's broken chains,
And beat them at the blacksmith's forge
To ploughshares for our plains.

Alike henceforth our hills of snow,
And vales where cotton flowers;
All streams that flow, all winds that blow,
Are Freedom's motive-powers.

Henceforth to Labor's chivalry
Be knightly honors paid;
For nobler than the sword's shall