I WAS very unhappy, from a variety of causes, definable and undefinable. My chambermaid had been cross for a week, and, by talking to my cook, had made her dissatis-fied with her place. The mother of five little children, I felt that I had a weight of care and responsibility greater than I could support. I was unequal to the task. My spirits fell under its bare contemplation. Then I had been disappointed in a seamstress, and my children were, as the saying is, "in rags." While brooding over these and other dishearte-ning circumstances, Netty, my chambermaid, opened the door of the room where I was sitting, (it was Monday morning,) and said- "Harriet has just sent word that she is sick, and can't come to-day." "Then you and Agnes will have to do the washing," I replied, in a fretful voice; this new source of trouble completely breaking me down. "Indeed, ma'am," replied Netty, tossing her head and speaking with some pertness, "I can't do the washing. I didn't engage for any thing but chamber-work."