One Species Of Insanity

D'd you ever soe a woman who wat possessed by the house-ul( aning üend - ubi periodically, but at all times - who would go about drawing her rhigers over every lounge and tnble and chair, peering uito cracks and cranuies for crooked pins and lint, holding tumblsrs up to the light for riuger-marks ; in short, so utterly absorbed in the purauit of dirt that every other pursuit was as nothing in comparisou ? Now, being New En land born, I know what neatness is, aad value it only as a New Eulauder eau ; but when it fcikes such a hope as this, and rolis life of all ita cbarms, I turn my back upon it with righteous disgust. Who thanks these zealous furies for their self-imposed labore ? Certainly not their husbands, who flee into corners from dnstpana and dn3t-bruf;i-.ers, and weary of the recitals of their prowets day by day. Oertainly not their children, who have no place to stow away their little sacred property in the shape of bright bits of sük or pajjer or broken cups, which arp dear and prfecions to them, and shonld alwnys be held in respect within proper innocent limits. Oh, ye careful and troabled Marthas of the household ! Rtop and take breath. Place a flower on the mantel, that you aiid your household may perhaps have some in your lives. While you stop to rest, read. So shall the cobwebs be brushed from your neglected brain, and j'oti shall learn that something else beside3 cleanliness is necessary to make home really home for those dependant on your care. Tlirow your broom out of doora, take your children by the haud, and let the fresh wind touch your wi'inkled forohead. If your house is wound up to such au immaculate pitch of cleauliuess, it can run on a few hours without care. Laugh and talk with them, or, better still, listen to their foolish-wise talk. Bring home a bit of gingerbread for eaoh of them, and play some simple game with them. Put on the freshest dreaa you have, and aik your husband when he comes in if he recognizes his wife. "I wish my mother looked as pretty asyou,"said a little girl one day to a neifíhbor. "But your mamma is much prettier than I ever was," replied the ueiyhbor. Truth was, that the child's mother was alsvays in a wmoper, unless company was expected. The re3t of the time she was under the dominion of the housecleauing fiend, and the children fieJ from sucli a joylesa, utilitarian home, where no flower of beauty could ever get time enough to take roet tind blossom. There is little need to misinterpret my meanincf. Many a ruined life has come of a joylesR home. Your chüdrea take to the sunliglit as naturally as do the flowers. Simt it out of your houses, and they will go abroad in search of it ; you may be sure of that. Isn't this