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Many a one can date their final cold and fatal cough from this neglect of otherwise thoughtful housewives. Never put your friend in the northwest bedroom if it has not been duly aired in summer, or warmed in winter. If this is not done, it is almost manslaughter. That corner in our houses should be used for parlors, store-rooms, or anything, rather than for sleeping people in.
He used to describe with much gusto, how the old experienced hands, with whom he was a great favourite, would crowd about him when forging his "Trivets," some of which may to this day be in use among Woolwich housewives for supporting the toast-plate before the bright fire against tea time.
Green Valley would as soon think of changing its name as permitting a new grocer to open up a rival store. And nobody dreams of disloyalty when buying trifles at the post-office. In fact housewives are openly glad that Dick, the postmaster, has taken to keeping strictly fresh yeast for their leisure days and nice bakery things for times of stress and unexpected company.
The town was at that time quiet enough, for all the shops were closed, and most of the young men and maidens, as well as large parties of children, had gone into the surrounding woods to cut boughs and gather wild flowers. The housewives, however, were eager to purchase their fresh-caught pilchards, to make into huge pasties, which, with clotted cream, forms the favourite Cornish dish.
There were no sewing or knitting machines, though there were needles of both kinds. In the woods thorns were used for pins. Guns were flint-locks, tinder-boxes were used until the manufacture of the friction match. Artificial light came chiefly from the open fireplace, though the tallow dip was known and there were some housewives who had time to make them and the disposition to use them.
No wonder so many girls, of the present day, make miserable housewives. No wonder a factory, a book-bindery, or a shoemaker's shop, is considered preferable to the kitchen.
The streets of the town were in a terrible condition owing principally to the hygienic customs of the inhabitants who would throw everything out of their front doors or windows. The consequence was that, without exaggeration, the ice in some places was two feet thick, and every day fresh layers were formed as the French housewives threw out more water.
The Real Little Housewives, to whom the book was dedicated, were not quite delighted at least, they said they were not at the portraits drawn of them, in their pinafores, so to speak, with some little hints at failings and faults which they recognised through the mask of dramatis personæ. Miss "Kathleen" disclaimed the singing of "Vilikins and his Dinah," and so on.
"Good, clean soot; it's our life-blood, God bless it!" The smoke was one of his great enthusiasms; he laughed at a committee of plaintive housewives who called to beg his aid against it. "Smoke's what brings your husbands' money home on Saturday night," he told them, jovially.
"Well, ma, I just know they're coming." A voice retorted with the shrillness and mechanical violence of occasional housewives. The girl swished her skirts defiantly and returned to the window. Upon the yellow streak of road that lay across the hillside there now was a handful of black dots horsemen. A cloud of dust floated away.
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