The men are, as a rule, always willing to sell china—when did man ever reverence the vessels of his household gods? I always delight to ask a Yankee farmer, in field or road, whether he has any old crockery that he would be willing to part with. How he will skurry home “cross-lots,” over the ploughed fields, or through the rows of growing corn, eager to pull out and sell his wife’s pantry treasures! Not that he can sell them if “Mother” isn’t willing—in her realm she reigns supreme. Even in the midst of my sore disappointment I have thrilled with malicious satisfaction and delight to see the calm and authoritative way in which “Father” is turned out of the “butt’ry” when he tries to pull down from the shelf an old blue bowl or plate to sell. “Mother” has kept her cinnamon-sticks and nutmegs for her apple-pies in that “Blue Dragon” bowl for forty years, and she isn’t going to sell it now to please anyone. To hail the farmer in advance with china questions is not, therefore, so underhanded and despicable a proceeding as might be thought, nor so dangerous to the family peace; he really is a poor, uninfluential, unpowered vassal in kitchen and pantry, his advice is not asked, his word is not heeded, nor if he attempt to be at all bumptious will his presence be tolerated. I have found it to be an unvarying rule that the farmer is always willing and eager to sell his wife’s mother’s china, while the wife is always openly disparaging, and cares little for his mother’s china; and when once the source of inheritance is discovered, the rule of action and plan of attack are plainly defined.