Kate overheard this;—­how could she scold?

Saide can never think unless she is “flyin’ roun’”; and whenever there is a great tumult in the kitchen, pans kicked about, tongs falling, dishes rattling, and table shoved over the floor, something pretty good, in the shape either of a bonne-bouche or a bon-mot, is sure to turn up.

This morning there was a furious hubbub, that threatened to drown my voice.  Saide was evidently “flyin’ roun’,” and Kate, who could not hear half that I read, got out of patience.

“What is the matter?” she asked, raising the sash of the window.

“I on’y wants the currender, (colander,) Miss Catline,—­dat’s all, Miss.”

“Well, does it take a whirlwind to produce it?”

“Oh, laws, Miss Catline!  Don’t be dat funny now, don’t!—­yegh! yegh!—­I’se find it presentry.  I’se on’y a little frustrated, (flustered,) Miss, with de ‘fusion, and I’se jes a-studyin’.  Never mind me, Miss,—­dat’s all, indeed it is,—­and you’ll have a fuss-rate minch-pie for dinner.  I guess so, too!—­yegh! yegh!”—­And so we had.

Kate’s domestics stand in much awe of her, but feel at least equal love.  So that hers is a household kept in good order, with very little of the vexation, annoyance, and care, I hear so many of her married friends groaning about.

April.

For a month nearly, Kate has forbidden my writing, and the first part of this letter was not sent; so I will finish it now.  My sister thought the effort of holding a pen, in my recumbent position, was too wearying to me; but now I am stronger, and can sit up supported by pillows.  I hasten to tell you of another most important addition to my comfort, which has been made since I wrote last.  I am so eager with the news, that I can hardly hold a steady pen.  Isn’t this a fine state for a promising young lawyer to be reduced to?  He is wild with excitement, because some one has given him a new go-cart!

Ben, the gardener, was that indulgent individual.  He made for me, with his own industrious hands, what he calls a “jaunting-car-r-r-r.”  It is a large wheeled couch on springs.  I am a house-prisoner no longer!

I think the first ride I took in it was the most exciting event of my life.  I was not exactly conscious of being mortally tired of looking from the same porch, over the same garden, into the same grove, and up to the same quarter of the heavens, for so many months; but when the change came unexpectedly, it was transporting happiness.

I suppose it may be so when we enter a future life.  While here, we think we do not want to go elsewhere,—­even to a better land; but when we reach that shore, we shall probably acknowledge it to be a lucky change.