I can't enjoy--can't feel a minute to sit down and
say 'it is done.'
"The fountain plays, the plants flourish, and our front hall minus the
stair railing looks beautifully; my pictures are all hung in parlor
and library, and yet I feel so unsettled. Well, in a month more
perhaps I shall get my brains right side up."
The following year was made memorable in Mrs. Stowe's life by the
marriage of her youngest daughter. Again I find that no description
can begin to give as clearly as the glimpses in her own letters the
multifarious responsibilities which beset her. She says: "I am in
trouble,--have been in trouble ever since my turtledoves announced
their intention of pairing in June instead of August, because it
entailed on me an immediate necessity of bringing everything out of
doors and in to a state of completeness for the wedding exhibition in
June. The garden must be planted, the lawn graded, harrowed, rolled,
seeded, and the grass up and growing, stumps got out and trees got in,
conservatory made over, belts planted, holes filled,--and all by three
very slippery sort of Irishmen who had rather any time be minding
their own business than mine. I have back doorsteps to be made, and
troughs, screens, and what not; papering, painting, and varnishing,
hitherto neglected, to be completed; also spring house-cleaning; also
dressmaking for one bride and three ordinary females; also ---- and
---- and ----'s wardrobes to be overlooked; also carpets to be made
and put down; also a revolution in the kitchen cabinet, threatening
for a time to blow up the whole establishment altogether.
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