The Age Herald

"Ain't It De Truf?"

Speaking of conventions, one is attracted by a charming little story, "A Farmer's Wife Makes a Visit," written by Mrs. Lucy Lea Bell, daughter of Col. Sumpter Lea of Birmingham, who was one of the ablest and most distinguished members of the Alabama Constitutional Convention of 1875, when he was a citizen of Dallas. Colonel Lea is hale and hearty, and is stronger than ever he was, though he is now totally blind. And it says much for the human kindness of that great-hearted and pious man that he is in his blindness the happiest mortal in this valley.

In the little story, which appears in the Atlanta Journal, the chief-man-about-the-place watched the wife's prolonged preparations for her day's journey on her month's visit with "rueful countenance," as probably every helpless and defenseless husband has experienced.

"It was that time of the year when cooks in our part of the civilized world, are as scarce as hen's teeth, and I pondered long on the subject of ways and means for providing one I left behind me with hot bread and fresh butter, for the cooking of coffee and meat were among boasted accomplishments-in my absence.

"I mentioned my anxiety about his welfare to this chief-man, and he actually resented my attitude of uneasiness, saying that he could keep house without any trouble; not to bother about him.

"As the chief-man had, by suggestion rather than words, caviled at woman's work and, in like manner, placed the masculine sex upon a mental pedestal of capacity and achievement, so, thought I, my fine fellow, a little 'sperience right about now will not be amiss.

"A list of 'pleases,' beginning with 'feed the chickens,' was hung by the chimney with care for the benefit of an absent-minded man, and my sense of duty was fully satisfied, so I bade farewell for a season to my household god and went to my girlhood's home. The first letters from the 'man-all-alone' were brave enough, and had little to say of hardships, but in about two weeks something was wrong, evidently, and my correspondent said he was 'doing the best he could,' but the house and premises lacked my skillful touch,' a 'woman's hand,' etc. Finally, toward the end of my sojourn he admitted that he would like to have a good square meal again, and though he drank cream every day it was not very 'fillin'.

"On my return I was met with a warm welcome from man and beast and fowl, and went to work-my woman's work. Ye gods and little fishes! Even dish washing must have been a serious undertaking with the late chef, for he confessed, under pressure, that he had only washed dishes at rare intervals, and just scraped them out, as saving time and labor. One of the neighbors suggested, on hearing his disinclination to dish washing, that 'Maybe he didn't mind eating after himself.'

"The touch of feminine hands soon restored order and my energies were applied successfully to the preparation of good all-around square meals, at regular hours, and all went well.

"The discipline was wholesome, and 'he-of-the-pleased countenance,' while at meals no more discourses of the delicious biscuits of his boyhood, but in honeyed accents praises my 'feathery bread' as he gorges himself with the various viands of my making.

" 'Woman,' says he, 'woman is man's helpmeet.' And I say to myself, in the language of an ex-black cook of mine:
Ain't it de truf?"