shington Irving lived and died a fastidious,
unpractical bachelor, or he might have modified the sketch of "The
Wife," the Mary who, after unpacking trunks, washing china, pots and
kettles, putting closets to rights, laying carpets, hanging pictures,
clearing away straw, sawdust, and what in that day corresponded with
jute--dusting and shelving books--and performing the hundred other
duties contingent upon sitting down in the modest cottage hired by her
bankrupt husband,--got tea ready (presumably preparing potatoes for
the same) picked a big mess of strawberries from a bed opportunely
discovered in the garden, donned a white muslin robe and sat down to
the piano to while away a lagging hour while awaiting her Leslie's
return.

The John of our common-sensible age knows in his sober mind that his
bride, in the effort to accomplish one-fourth as much, would equip
herself in a brown gingham, tie a big apron before her, draw a pair of
his discarded gloves with truncated fingers upon her hands, and be too
tired at night to do more than boil the kettle for the cup of tea which
he is more than likely to drink at the kitchen table, spread with a
newspaper--the linen not having been yet dug out of the case in which
"mother and the girls" packed it.

As the months wear on, Mary learns, if her spouse does not, that white
muslin comes to grief so speedily in the course of even light
housework, as to swell the laundry bills inordinately. The embroidered
tea-gowns in which she used to array herself upon the rare occasions
of her betrothed's morning calls, gather dust streaks upon skirts and
the under sides of the sleeves, and, watch as she may, catch spots in
the kitchen. She considers,--being lovingly determined to help, not
hinder her mate,--that his purse must purchase new garments when her
trousseau is worn out, and she saves her best clothes for "occasions."
John, being her husband, is no longer an occasion. Dark prints and
ginghams, simply made, and freshened up at meal-times by full white
aprons, are serviceable, sensible, economical and significant of our
dear Mary's practical wisdom. They are by so many degrees less
becoming to her than the dainty apparel of loverly memory, that we do
not wonder at the surprised discontent of the young husband.

Marriage has made no distinct change in his apparel. In his business a
man must be decent, or he loses credit. In masculine ignorance of the
immutable law that in dislodging dirt