CHAPTER IV.

LITTLE THINGS THAT ARE TRIFLES.

I feel that in writing a chapter upon ways and means I may seem to many readers to be going over an oft-traversed road.  Of articles and treatises on the ever-vexing subject there is no end.  The whole human creation or, at all events, a vast majority of it, groaneth and travaileth together in the agony of trying to spread a little substance over a vast surface,—­in the desperate endeavor to make a little money go a very long way.  Every few months we notice in a daily newspaper the offer of a money-prize for the best bill of fare for a company-dinner for six people, to be prepared upon a ludicrously-small allowance.  The number of contestants for this prize proves, not only the general interest felt in the subject, but also testifies to the urgent need of the reward on the part of the various would-be winners.  The probabilities are that few of these writers have the means to set forth such a dinner as they describe.

Books portraying the feasibility of “Comfortable living on seven hundred a year,” or “How to keep house on a restricted income,” are both helpful and pernicious.  The prospective housewife buys them eagerly and devours them with avidity.  She and John are boarding now, but are soon to have a home of their own, and after perusing their newly purchased volumes, they decide that their limited income will amply enable them to live in comfort although, perhaps, not in luxury.  The tiny house or flat is rented, and they settle down, as Mrs. Whitney’s Emery Anne would say, “to realize their geography,” or, more properly speaking, to live their recently acquired knowledge, which is, in many points, very useful.

But—­and here comes the mischief wrought by over-sanguine literature—­the authors of these books leave too many things out of the question.  The expenses of moving and the purchase of necessary furniture are, of course, omitted, but Mary finds to her chagrin that fuel—­no slight item in any family,—­and light,—­also absolutely essential,—­have not been taken into account.  These make a big hole in the income which had seemed all-sufficient.  It is expedient, also, occasionally, to have a woman in to do a day’s cleaning, and the weekly wash is a bugbear which makes our young people shudder.  The poor little housewife has many an anxious, tearful hour in striving to make both ends meet, while the most amiable husband cannot help wondering audibly “how it is they cannot live as cheaply as other people do.”

In housekeeping, as in all else, one must learn the lesson for one’s self.  All the rules and theories in all the books and periodicals in the country are worth little compared with three months of personal experience.  Happy is the young wife who has had some practice in housekeeping in her father’s house before the heavier responsibility of a home of her own rests on her shoulders.