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PETERSON’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXVII. EMILY WHARTON’S ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

BY FANRY SMITE.

At eighteen, sooording to the diploma of » fashionable boarding-school, Emily Martin was fully qualified to marry. Her music was of the most scientific description, far above the comprehension of the common herd; her voice in the highest state of cultivation; her French as Purim as Monsieur Gondon and a provincial French nursery-maid could make it; her Italian so extensive that she could sing it with but fow mistakes, and her embroidery and fancy work wey much better than her plain sewing.

8, as I said before, my friend Emily con- sxidered herself falty competent for the matrimo- sziisl state, and a certain Louis Wharton thought so too.

After the flatter of bridal finery and bridal wputies was over, the young wife was carried off © 8 distant village to make acquaintance with E-ser busband’s family, and she came home de- Lighted with everything and overybody she saw. Such housekeeping, such clock-work regularity, sack breakfasts, aud dinners, and suppers; these were the themes of Ewily’s conversation for many 4 day, and she had half mind to try to rival her mother-in-law and sister-inaw in that respect

Bat her old interesta and occupations soon superseded her new ones, the more readily, a3 Bid@y, her one servant, was 4 faitbfal, thorough- going creature, who preferred hnving the work entirely under own control.

Tt was four months after her marriage, and witha a gay heart and willing hands, Emily Whar- ton. waa patting her frilled pillow-cages on the bed of her spare room, for her mother-in-law was expected that day to make them s visit,

She was standing back to admire the effect of ber handy work, when Biddy put her head in at the open door.

“If you plase, mam,” said she, “I must go this minit to my sisther’s, Jemmy’s down stairs, and he esys the baby’s most desd iotirely. The Virgin save us!” and Biddy’s tears flowed copl- ously.

Poor Emily stood bewildered. It was a case in which she could not refuse to let her servant g0, bat what was she to do? her mother-in-low, the queen of housekeepers, coming, and dinner to get, Had it been # piece of intricate music to play at sight, she would have Isughed st the difficulty, but chickens to prepare, aud dessert to make, and old Mrs. Wharton to criticize! poor Emily felt as if ber sorrow was as great as Biady’s,

“But can’t you run down and see the child, Biddy, and then come back to get dinner? You know my mother-in-law is coming to-day. You shall go away again as soon as possible. I guess the baby ian’t so very sick,” said che, as coax- ingly as if her manner would have made it a she wished.

But Biddy shook her head.

“If it's ill jest, you see, mam, T must stay and help nurse it; and if it dies, Margary will want me to wake with it, But I'll come back, mam, as soon as iver I can,” and she left tha room to put on her things.

Emily seated herself on the foot of the bed which she had been at s0 much trouble to pre~ pare, and looked ag if stunned by some unex- peeted blow.

She could not collect her ideaa, and it was not till she heard the hall door olose, that she recol- lected how mach she might have learned from Biddy, had she but had hor wits about ber suffi- ciently to have asked.

There was @ mine of energy in Emily's cha- acter which had never been worked for want of necessity, 6o without stopping to bewail the unfortunate circumstance apy longer, she pro- ceeded at once to the kitchen. ‘There upon the large waiter, which Biddy always used for such purposes, lay » pair of fine chickens, with ampu- tated legs, and in the half prepared state in �