Page:Letters of Life.djvu/394

382 and to the "plain intent of life." In summer, the vines that embower it give it somewhat of the aspect of a cottage orné; but in the nakedness of winter one might notice many defects, and that the whole would be improved by a coat of paint. Still, it satisfies me. I have three small parlors, so redolent with the love-tokens of friendship, that should the donors attempt to enter them at once, it would be by no means possible. There is also, on the northern side, a writing-room called my den, where I have intense enjoyment, and spend such time between early morning and the dining hour as housekeeping propensities, and many calls from acquaintances and strangers, allow. The edifice, though narrow in front, stretches out longitudinally, comprising more space than appears to a casual observer, so that I am the mistress of eighteen apartments from attic to cellar, besides some dozen closets of various capacities.

The financial cares of forecasting and purchasing supplies, in which my husband was so perfect as to require no aid, and leave me little chance for experience, seemed burdensome during the first years of widowhood; but now they are so systematized, and the improvements in some departments so visible, as to form an agreeable variety. My elementary principle is to keep out of debt, or, in the vernacular phrase, to "pay as I go." The surplus earnings of my pen, however small they might be, having been carefully laid aside from the beginning, the interest on those investments