Such a woman was our congressman's wife in 1854, and, as I was the reservoir of all her sorrows, great and small, I became very weary of her amiable non-resistance.

Among other domestic trials, she had a kitchen stove that smoked and leaked, which could neither bake nor broil,--a worthless thing,--and too small for any purpose.

Consequently half their viands were spoiled in the cooking, and the cooks left in disgust, one after another.
In telling me, one day, of these kitchen misadventures, she actually shed tears, which so roused my sympathies that, with surprise, I exclaimed: "Why do you not buy a new stove ?" To my unassisted common sense that seemed the most practical thing to do.

"Why," she replied, "I have never purchased a darning needle, to put the case strongly, without consulting Mr.S., and he does not think a new stove necessary." "What, pray," said I, "does he know about stoves, sitting in his easy-chair in Washington?
If he had a dull old knife with broken blades, he would soon get a new one with which to sharpen his pens and pencils, and, if he attempted to cook a meal--granting he knew how--on your old stove, he would set it out of doors the next hour.

Now my advice to you is to buy a new one this very day!" "Bless me!" she said, "that would make him furious; he would blow me sky-high." "Well," I replied, "suppose he did go into a regular tantrum and use all the most startling expletives in the vocabulary for fifteen minutes! What is that compared with a good stove 365 days in the year?
Just put all he could say on one side, and all the advantages you would enjoy on the other, and you must readily see that his wrath would kick the beam." As my logic was irresistible, she said, "Well, if you will go with me, and help select a stove, I think I will take the responsibility." Accordingly we went to the hardware store and selected the most approved, largest-sized stove, with all the best cooking utensils, best Russian pipe, etc.