How To Cook Husbands (Chapter 1, page 2 of 12)


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Chapter 1

"Make a clear, strong, steady fire out of Love, Neatness, and Cheerfulness. Set him as near this as seems to agree with him. If he sputters and fizzles, don't be anxious; some husbands do this till they are quite done. Add a little sugar, in the form of what confectioners call Kisses, but no vinegar or pepper on any account. A little spice improves them, but it must be used with judgment.

"Don't stick any sharp instrument into him, to see if he is becoming tender. Stir him gently; watching the while lest he should lie too close to the kettle, and so become inert and useless.

"You cannot fail to know when he is done. If thus treated, you will find him very digestible, agreeing nicely with you and the children."

"So they are better cooked," I said to myself, "that is why we hear of such numbers of cases of marital indigestion--the husbands are served raw--fresh--unprepared."

"They are really delicious when properly treated,"--I wonder if that is so.

But I must pause here to tell you a bit about myself. I am not an old maid, but, at the time this occurs, I am unmarried, and I am thirty-four years old--not quite beyond the pale of hope. Men and women never do pass beyond that--not those of sanguine temperament at any rate. I am neither rich nor poor, but repose in a comfortable stratum betwixt and between. I keep house, or rather it keeps me, and a respectable woman who, with her husband, manages my domestic affairs, lends the odor of sanctity and propriety to my single existence. I am of medium height, between blond and brunette, and am said to have a modicum of both brains and good looks.

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