My Wife and I. Harry Henderson's History
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Stowe Harriet Beecher. My Wife and I. Harry Henderson's History
PREFACE
CHAPTER I. THE AUTHOR DEFINES HIS POSITION
CHAPTER II. MY CHILD-WIFE
CHAPTER III. OUR CHILD-EDEN
CHAPTER IV. MY SHADOW-WIFE
CHAPTER V. I START FOR COLLEGE AND MY UNCLE JACOB ADVISES ME
CHAPTER VI. MY DREAM-WIFE
CHAPTER VII. THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION
CHAPTER VIII. THE BLUE MISTS
CHAPTER IX. AN OUTLOOK INTO LIFE
CHAPTER X. COUSIN CAROLINE
CHAPTER XI. WHY DON'T YOU TAKE HER?
CHAPTER XII. I LAY THE FIRST STONE IN MY FOUNDATION
CHAPTER XIII. BACHELOR COMRADES
CHAPTER XIV. HAPS AND MISHAPS
CHAPTER XV. I MEET A VISION
CHAPTER XVI. THE GIRL OF OUR PERIOD
CHAPTER XVII. I AM INTRODUCED INTO SOCIETY
CHAPTER XVIII. THE YOUNG LADY PHILOSOPHER
CHAPTER XIX. FLIRTATION
CHAPTER XX. I BECOME A FAMILY FRIEND
CHAPTER XXI. I DISCOVER THE BEAUTIES OF FRIENDSHIP
CHAPTER XXII. I AM INTRODUCED TO THE ILLUMINATI
CHAPTER XXIII. I RECEIVE A MORAL SHOWER-BATH
CHAPTER XXIV. AUNT MARIA
CHAPTER XXV. A DISCUSSION OF THE WOMAN QUESTION FROM ALL POINTS
CHAPTER XXVI. COUSIN CAROLINE AGAIN
CHAPTER XXVII. EASTER LILIES
CHAPTER XXVIII. ENCHANTMENT AND DISENCHANTMENT
CHAPTER XXIX. A NEW OPENING
CHAPTER XXX. PERTURBATIONS
CHAPTER XXXI. THE FATES
CHAPTER XXXII. THE GAME OF CROQUET
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MATCH GAME
CHAPTER XXXIV [Eva Van Arsdel to Isabel Convers.]
CHAPTER XXXV. DOMESTIC CONSULTATIONS
CHAPTER XXXVI. WEALTH versus LOVE
CHAPTER XXXVII. FURTHER CONSULTATIONS
CHAPTER XXXVIII. MAKING LOVE TO ONE'S FATHER-IN-LAW
CHAPTER XXXIX. ACCEPTED AND ENGAGED
CHAPTER XL. CONGRATULATIONS, ETC
CHAPTER XLI. THE EXPLOSION
CHAPTER XLII. THE WEDDING AND THE TALK OVER THE PRAYER-BOOK
CHAPTER XLIII. BOLTON
CHAPTER XLIV. THE WEDDING JOURNEY
CHAPTER XLV. MY WIFE'S WARDROBE
CHAPTER XLVI. LETTERS FROM NEW YORK
CHAPTER XLVII. AUNT MARIA'S DICTUM
CHAPTER XLVIII. OUR HOUSE
CHAPTER XLIX. PICNICKING IN NEW YORK
CHAPTER L. NEIGHBORS
CHAPTER LI. MY WIFE PROJECTS HOSPITALITIES
CHAPTER LII. PREPARATIONS FOR OUR DINNER PARTY
CHAPTER LIII. THE HOUSE-WARMING
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It appears to me that the world is returning to its second childhood, and running mad for Stories. Stories! Stories! Stories! everywhere; stories in every paper, in every crevice, crack and corner of the house. Stories fall from the pen faster than leaves of autumn, and of as many shades and colorings. Stories blow over here in whirlwinds from England. Stories are translated from the French, from the Danish, from the Swedish, from the German, from the Russian. There are serial stories for adults in the Atlantic, in the Overland, in the Galaxy, in Harper's, in Scribner's. There are serial stories for youthful pilgrims in Our Young Folks, the Little Corporal, "Oliver Optic," the Youth's Companion, and very soon we anticipate newspapers with serial stories for the nursery. We shall have those charmingly illustrated magazines, the Cradle, the Rocking Chair, the First Rattle, and the First Tooth, with successive chapters of "Goosy Goosy Gander," and "Hickory Dickory Dock," and "Old Mother Hubbard," extending through twelve, or twenty-four, or forty-eight numbers.
I have often questioned what Solomon would have said if he had lived in our day. The poor man, it appears, was somewhat blasé with the abundance of literature in his times, and remarked that much study was weariness to the flesh. Then, printing was not invented, and "books" were all copied by hand, in those very square Hebrew letters where each letter is about as careful a bit of work as a grave-stone. And yet, even with all these restrictions and circumscriptions, Solomon rather testily remarked, "Of making many books there is no end!" What would he have said had he looked over a modern publisher's catalogue?
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How triumphant Susie was, and how I swelled and exulted to her, telling her what I would do to protect her under every supposable variety of circumstances! Susie had confessed to me of being dreadfully afraid of "bears," and I took this occasion to tell her what I would do if a bear should actually attack her. I assured her that I would get father's gun and shoot him without mercy – and she listened and believed. I also dilated on what I would do if robbers should get into the house; I would, I informed her, immediately get up and pour shovelfuls of hot coal down their backs – and wouldn't they have to run? What comfort and security this view of matters gave us both! What bears and robbers were, we had no very precise idea, but it was a comfort to think how strong and adequate to meet them in any event I was.
Sometimes, of a Saturday afternoon, Susie was permitted to come and play with me. I always went after her, and solicited the favor humbly at the hands of her mother, who, after many washings and dressings and cautions as to her clothes, delivered her up to me, with the condition that she was to start for home when the sun was half an hour high. Susie was very conscientious in watching, but for my part I never agreed with her. I was always sure that the sun was an hour high, when she set her little face dutifully homeward. My sisters used to pet her greatly during these visits. They delighted to twine her curls over their fingers, and try the effects of different articles of costume on her fair complexion. They would ask her, laughing, would she be my little wife, to which she always answered with a grave affirmative.
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