Judge then of my amazement when I beheld Phebe standing before her master holding a bowl, while the Doctor was putting spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, as fast as he could. Pauline stood by looking as if she were not sure whether to laugh or to cry. I sprang forward to take the bowl; but quicker than thought, Phebe had caught it under her apron, hoping I had not seen it, while the Doctor looked like a whipped dog. The whole affair was so ludicrous, that it was with the utmost difficulty, I could keep my countenance. But endeavoring to look very stern, I said, "Dr. Frank Lenox, you will please to tell me what you have been eating?" He had already eaten a hearty dinner for a sick man, not half an hour before. There was no reply. "Well then," said I, "there is no help for it. I must give you a dose of castor oil." I proceeded toward the closet, as if I were intending to administer it to him at once, while I was thankful for an opportunity to relax my stern countenance. "Cora," cried the Doctor, "don't give me any." His voice was feeble, and I could carry the joke no farther. "Well; then, what can I do?" I asked, returning to him. "Phebe, do you know that what you were giving your master may cause his death?" Pauline began to cry, "Oh, mamma, I was afraid I was not doing right, but father so longed for some chicken broth." "Laws missus!" said Phebe, uncovering the bowl, "'tan't got no strength to it. 'Pears like he's powerful hungry. I 'clare your ole Phebe be de last one make the broth too strong for sick mass'r." I tasted the broth and finding it really weak, I hoped my hungry patient had sustained no real injury. The Doctor put out his hand to Pauline, and in a most child-like tone said, "I was the only one to blame, dear child." She kissed him, and I motioned her to go below. Frank looked as if he thought he deserved a punishment, and expected to receive it; but some how I never could punish a child who appeared sorry, and just so I felt in this case; and therefore I merely said, "I will help you to lie down, and will read to you. My dear husband," I said, when I rose to go below for my dinner, "if the broth does not injure you, I will ask Dr. Clapp to let you have a dinner of it to-morrow." He looked his thanks and pressed my hand. I am more than ever convinced that man was made to command, and woman to obey, and that the rule in that good old fashioned book is right, "wives _reverence_ your husbands--husbands _love_ your wives." _Tuesday, October 1st._