The House

remarked once upon a time, and the time was many centuries ago, that no woman was happy until she got herself a home. It really makes no dif

tle would not have been "a dear little house"; it would have been a palatial residence with a dance-hall at the top and a wine-cellar at the bottom thereof. I have always observed that when the money comes in the poetry flies

ulging these pleasing speculations, for at that time my Aunt Susan was living, and she was reputed as rich as mud (whatever that may mean), and this simile was by her neighbors coupled with another, which represented Aunt Susan as being as close as a clapboard on a house. Whatever her reputation was, I happened to be Aunt Susan's nearest of kin

Norman renaissance architecture. Being somewhat of an antiquarian by nature, I was gratified by the promise of archaism which Alice's picture of our future home presented. We picked out a corner lot in,-well, no matter where; that delectable dream, with its Gothic and Norman features, came to an untimely end all too soon. At its very height Aunt Susan up a

t went for a new silk dress for Alice; the rest I spent for books, and I recall my thrill of delight when I saw ensconced upon my she

in the avenue which had engaged our attention during the decadent-renaissance phase of our enthusiasm to a modest point in Slocum's Addition, a locality originally known as Slocum's Slough, but now advertised and heralded by the press and rehabilitated in public opinion as

bs. Elmdale was then new to fame. I suppose they called it Elmdale because it had neither an elm nor a dale. It was fourteen miles from town, but its railroad transportation facilities were unique. The five-o'clock milk-train took passengers in to business every morning, and the eight-o'clock

after the astronomers of blessed memory!) were now three years old, and Alice insisted that they required the pure air

atural enough. You see that in none of our other plans had we contemplated the possibility of a growing family. Now we had two uproarious boys, and their coming had naturally put us into pleasing doubt as to what similar eme

k cats and the rabbit's foot, and these exceptions are wholly reasonable, for my family lived for many years in Salem, Mass. But I have always conceded that Alice has as good a right to her superstitions as I to mine. I bought her the prettiest turquoise ring I could afford, and I approved her determination to treat the reception-room in blue. I rather

p. Alice went to Burley's the next week and priced one (not half as handsome) and was told that it cost sixty dollars. It was a tall, shapely lamp, w

n thinking it all over and had about made up her mind that when we got our n

"I think it would be so pretty to have the dec

r, could you possibly imagine anything else so perf

hall be, and when we have moved in I 'll buy you a dear little canary bird in a lovely gold cage, and we 'll hang it in

hed up and pulled my head down and kissed her de

ment and sorrow, but precious years, for troubles, like those we have had, sanctify human lives. Children came to us, and of these priceless treasures we lost two. If I thought Alice would ever see these lines I should not s

and all about us! My affairs have prospered; if it had n't been for the depression that set in two years ago I should have had one thousand dollars in bank by this time. My salary has increased steadily year by year; it has now reached a sum that enables me to hope for speedy relief from those financial worries which encompass the head of a numerous household. By the practice of rigid economy in family expenses I have been able

ure conceivable. From five rooms it has grown to fourteen. The reception parlor, chameleon-like, has changed color eight times. There have duly loomed up bewildering visions of a l

as in my study over the kitchen figuring upon the probable

Alice, "I 've done it!

Baker," says I,

he old Schmittheimer place-the house that sets back from the street and has lovely trees in the yard? You remember how often we 've gone by t

d for it, dar

but I 'm going to, and you 're goi

"I don't know what you 've done, but of course I 'll help you

d overcoat and hat and go with her