A SERIOUS PROBLEM.
A READER who is recently married writes us, asking which end of a stove is
the lightest. We really wish we knew; but we don't. A stove is very deceiving;
and one has to become well acquainted with a new one to find its points of
advantage. Our friend should not be too hasty in taking hold of a stove.
A stove that is to be
moved should be visited in the still watches of the
night before, and carefully examined by the light of a good lamp. The very
end we thought the lightest may prove the heaviest (in fact, is extremely
likely to); or it may be that the lightest end is the most dificult to get
hold of and hang on to. It is a very distressing undertaking to carry a half
ton of stove by your finger-nails, with a cold-blooded man easily holding
the other end, and a nervous woman—with a dust-pan in one hand, and a broom
in the other—bringing up the rear, and getting the broom between your legs.
In going up stairs, it is best to be at the lower end of the stove.
Going backwards up a stairway with a stove in your hands requires a delicacy
of perception which very few peopie possess, and which can only come after
years of conscientious practice. If you are below, you have the advantage
of missing much that must be painful to a sensitive nature. The position
you are in brings your face pretty close to the top of the stove; and, as
no one can be expected to see what is going on when thus situated, you are
relieved from all responsibility and thought in the matter, with nothing
to do but to push valiantly ahead, and think of heaven. Then above you is
the carman, whom you do not see, with his lips two inches apart, his eyes
protruding, and his tongue lolling on his chin. And it is well you don't
see-him; for it is an awful sight. But the chief advantage
of being below
is, that, in case of the stove falling, you will be caught beneath it, and
instantly killed. Nothing short of your death will ever compensate for the
scratched paint, soiled carpet, and torn oil-cloth; and no man in his senses,
and with his hearing unimpaired, would want to survive the catastrophe.
[Description: Fighting the Wind. — Page 220.]