Diary of a Young Wife.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 2, 15 July 1905, Page 59

Diary of a Young Wife.

(By

Dorothy Dix.)

March 2. —Ah, how easy it is to be perfectly happy, though mrarried, if one only knows how—if one only goes about attaining domestic felicity scientifically, instead of trusting to luck to get along without family spats.

Do not think me conceited, dear diary. T take ho credit to myself for knowing exactly how to make matrimony one long, glad song. I owe everything to that noble journal, the “Ladies’ Home Companion,” and to the writers in the Women’s Page of the daily

newspapers, who give recipes for insuring connubial bliss so plain that a child could follow them. It makes me shudder to think that but for this wise counsel I, too, might be one of those foolish, ignorant women who think that you can deal with a husband on a plain, ordinary, aboveboard platform like you would with another woman. No wonder there are so many divorces! And how sad it is when you retlectthat they could all be avoided if only the woman had taken the precaution to learn, before marriage, as I did, how to manage a husband and make home happy. I was reading again to-day the rule for making a man’s own hearth the most fascinating spot on earth to him.

It said: “The first duty of a wife—a duty, alas, too often neglected—is to entertain her husband of an evening when he returns home wearied from his day’s labours. Music, games, conversation on the topics in which a man is interested—these make the hours between dinner and bed-time fly all too quickly.” What incontrovertible logic! How impossible that any one could make a mistake with such a rule as a guide!

March 3.—1 must confess to you, dear diary, that when I read about the influence of music in the home, and the powerful adhesive qualities that it had in sticking a man to his own fireside, 1 felt quite discouraged, for I am as stone deaf as Trilby. I know but two tunes, and one of ’em is “Yankee Doodle” and the other one isn’t, and I am not always certain which is which, but I determined not to be knocked out of the matrimonial ring by a lack of musical ability. So, when Aunt Maria asked me what I would like for a wedding gift, I asked her for a piano with one of those patent attachments that you play with your feet, and they sent along about a barrel of music. Thus I was prepared for every contingency, and as soon as dinner was over I went to the piano and began grinding out something—either Wagner or ragtime, I couldn’t tell which.

But <lo you know, dear diary, that

the influence of music in the home has been greatly exaggerated? At any rate, it didn’t soothe Jack. At the first note I saw a kind of expression of pain and horror pass over his face that I can’t even yet account for. At the second piece I observed that he grit his teeth and burrowed his head under the sofa cushions, and at the third lie yelled out: “Look here, Alary, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but if you must caterwaul on that beastly thing, for

pity’s sake do it in the daytime when lam off at work. I tell you that homemade music is what drives men to drink. I’m a mild and long-suffering creature, but I warn you right now that if you torture another tune out of that patent inquisition I’ll wreck the fur niture.”

March 4.—1 was just crazy to finish a new novel I am reading. I had gotten the hero and heroine to the most exciting point, where a word would determine their fate, and I was wild to know whether they said it or not, but, thank heaven! I remembered my duty in time. The recipe for entertaining a husband says that there is nothing a man finds so exciting and exhilarating as a little game of cards with his wife.

So I got out a deck of cards and pro posed a game. Jack assented, after a slight hesitation, but with a strange pained, weary air. I thought. There wasn’t anything to play but casino, as we had no cribbage board, and didn’t know how to play it if we had had one. and for three weary hours (while 1 was bored stiff) we stifled our yawns and played kindergarten games. Finally Jack said:

“If you are so keen on cards, why don’t you join one of those hen bridge clubs that meet in the afternoon? (If course, you know I want to make you happy, and there are mighty few sacrifices I wouldn’t make for you; but. by Jinks, playing a two-handed game is one of ’em. Two evenings of it would send me to an asylum for feeble-mind-ed.” March 5.—1 offered to recite for Jack this evening—l used to be thought to do “Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night” with a great deal of feeling. He said

he would love to hear me—some other time; that he had a sudden headache. I hadn’t noticed him feeling ill at din ner.

March 6.—1 have been reading up on the subjects that interest men, so that I can converse interestingly with Jack. To-night he was reading his paper, and I said:

“I see the market gave away in spots.

and that the price of X Y and Z went down a point and a-half.” ••Hugh!” he grunted. “Did you read that in the papers about that baseball player stealing bases? Such a respectable-looking man he seemed, too, in his picture!” I asked. ••Huh!” he grunted. “1 see the wise ones are predicting that Mary Jane is the coming colt.” 1 went on. "L’gh-huh!” he snorteu. "What do you think of the President’s Venezuelan policy?” 1 continued. "(heat snakes, Mary!” he cried, “can’t you let a man read his paper in peace? The minute I settle down tor a nice, quiet, comfortable evening at home you turn on tne phonograph or want to do some fool thing. Can’t you keep still for a single minute? Anybody would think you have St. Vitus’ dance, the way you hop about, or that you were the press agent of a continuous vaudeville show.” At these cruel words I cried, and Jack apologised, but I’m all mixed up in my ideas, i wonder if you can entertain a man by letting him alone. That isn’t in the rules, but the recipe I had learned doesn’t seem to turn out just right somehow.