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she read her answer in the determined expression len desolation, of almost uninterrupted and unbroken membrane which forms the external covering of the of his mouth, and the ironical glance with which eye, shall be kept moist and free from the contact he met her questioning look, so that courage was of opaque substances. To supply the fluid which gone before he formally requested that "Miss Grashall moisten and cleanse the eye, there is placed at hame wonld favour him with her company in the the outer and upper part of the ball a small gland, library for a few minutes." which secretes the lachrymal fluid, and pours it out at the corner of the eye, whence, by the motion of the lids, it is equally spread over the surface, and thus moisture and clearness are at once secured.

Mr. Stone's refusal to accede to Helen's wish was couched in language that decidedly wanted origi- In a small room, boasting no extravagance of denality, as he made use of arguments which, from coration, showing no signs of luxury and wealth, time immemorial, have been used for "preaching yet pervaded by that air of refined comfort which down the heart." In the course of his harangue, marks the home of pure minds and of home-loving he informed Helen that Mr. Grey was poor-a fact hearts, and imparts a charm which wealth and faswhich she received with perfect indifference-and tidious taste often fail to give-in this room, which that she "might do much better," being yet a fool- is only lighted by a warm, dancing firelight, sit two ish girl, not old enough to know her own mind-silent, thoughtful creatures; whether belonging to a statement which filled Helen with indignation; the happy or miserable it will not be difficult to and he concluded by positively forbidding her to decide. answer his letter, which she thought unnecessary tyranny.

When Helen was alone, a struggle between conflicting notions of right and wrong took place in her mind. It seemed to her such a great wrong and such flagrant ingratitude to leave her friend without any answer, that she at first resolved just to write him an explanation, and an assurance that he was not forgotten. But then she had a stern sense of duty her uncle was appointed as her guardian by her venerated father. At last the martyr-spirit, that trial often develops in a true woman, made her take the way that was not shone upon by the sun of inclination.

She wrote to Mrs. Ainslie, however, confided all to her, and begged her to do whatever she thought right; but on no account to allow Mr. Grey to go away with a doubt of her gratitude or remembrance. When this was done, she meekly made up her mind to wait. Two years was but a short probation, and she was strong in the new joy of believing herself loved, and filled with a firm conviction that all would be right at last. So she would wait in peace and patience, working while she waited-doing diligently whatever her hand found to do. Yet

often an indefinite dread would come over her; it seemed to her that she went about with an everpresent consciousness of having a sensitive spot in her heart which might at any time receive a deadly


dreariness-such a winter as comes but seldom in
our happy England, and when it does come, is long
and painfully remembered. It is the hour when the
happy love to sit idle, looking at the fire and enjoy
ing their own thoughts; when the miserable sit, and
idly brood over their sorrows.


The attitude of Helen and her husband, now in the inmost heart of domestic life, by their 'ain fireside,' is very characteristic. She's on a low seat at his feet, her cheek resting on the hand that lies upon his knee; but there is no kingly assumption, no Sultan-like dignity in his posture, though he sits enthroned in that comfortable chair; he is bending over her, and there is tender reverence as well as unutterable love, outlooking from his eyes, as he peruses the intent, fire-gazing face.

"Is it all a dream, and will this deep, ineffable peace, this fullness of joy, all quickly pass away?" murmured Helen, in a voice low as if she feared to break the charm, and with eyes still riveted on the fire, as if seeking a bright answer there.

"I will strive to make thy true heart's dream of joy a lifelong, life-outlasting one to thee, my wife. And I trust that thy peace shall prove to be of that kind which, being not in the world's power to give, is not in the world's power to take away."

A similar action, called forth by another kind of PHILOSOPHY OF A TEAR. excitement, occurs when dust or other irritating substances come in contact with the eye: the glands instantly secrete abundantly, and pouring the crystal fluid out upon the surface, the eye is protected from injury, and the offending substance is washed away. The feelings which excite excessive laughter or joy also stimulate this secretionthe eyes are said to "water." It is only when the crystal drop comes forth under the impulse of sorrow-thus speaking the anguish of the mind-that Hence its sacred Let us trace a tear to its source. The eye is the it can properly be called a tear. most attractive organ of animal bodies. It is character, and the sympathy which it seldom fails placed in a bony socket, by which it is protected, to create. Every tear represents some in-dwelling end wherein it finds room to perform the motions sorrow preying upon the mind and eating out its requisite to its uses. The rays of light which trans-peace. The tear comes forth to declare the inward

Two years and more have gone by. Through Mrs. Ainslie, Helen heard of the departure, the arrival, the progress and accomplishment of the business, of the time, and the ship by which Mr. Grey would return. Then came an interval, during which no tidings reached them-only torturing rumours of homeward-bound vessels lost, of storm, and tem-mit the images of external objects, enter the pupil struggle, and to plead a truce against further strife. pest, and shipwreck. Night after night, during through the crystalline lens, and fall upon the retina, How meet that the eye should be the seat of tears these terrible gales, did Helen start from harrowing upon which, within the space represented by a six--where they cannot occur unobserved, but blenddreams, in which one drowning face was ever pre- pence, is formed, in all beauty and perfection, an ing with the speaking beauty of the eye itself, must sent; and every gust of wind that howled round exact image of many miles of landscape, every command attention and sympathy. the old house seemed laden with the agonised cries object displaying its proper colour and true proporof one voice. But she did not sink, resting on an tions-trees and lakes, hill and valleys, insects and Arm mighty to save; her spirit was bowed, not flowers, all in true keeping, are there shown at broken; and still she waited! Ay! but how will once, and the impression produced thereby upon the she bear the end of that waiting! How the cer- filaments of the optic nerve, causes a sensation tainty following that dreadful doubt? The know- which communicates to the mind the apparent ledge ending that sickening suspense?

Whenever we behold a tear, let our kindliest


EAUTIFUL tear! whether lingering upon the

brink of the eyelid, or darting down the furrows of the care-worn cheek-thou art beautiful in thy simplicity-great because of thy modesty strong from thy very weakness. Offspring of sorrow! who will not own thy claim to sympathy? who can resist thy eloquence? who can deny mercy when thou pleadest? Beautiful tear!

qualities of the varied objects we behold.




That this wonderful faculty of vision may be It is winter—a winter of unusual gloom, of sul- uninterrupted, it is necessary that the transparent

When we incline to sleep, the eyes become comparatively bloodless and dull. The eyelids drop to shut out everything which might tend to arouse the slumbering senses. The secretion by the lachrymal glands is probably all but suspended, and the organs of sight participate in the general rest. When, after a long night's sleep, the eyelids first open, there is, therefore, a dulness of vision, arising probably from the dryness of the cornea then occur the rapid motions of the eyelids, familiarly termed "winking "-sometimes instinctively aided by rubbing with the hands-and after a few moments the "windows" of the body have been properly cleansed and set in order, the eye adjusted to the quantity of light it must receive, and we are "awake" for the day, and may go forth to renew our acquaintance with the beauties of nature. It is from the glands which supply this moisture that tears flow. Among physiologists it is well known that emotions-impressions upon the nervous system-exercise a powerful and immediate influence upon the secretions. As, for instance, the mere thought of some savoury dish, or delicious fruit, or something acidas the juice of the lemon-will excite an instant flow of the salivary fluid into the mouth. An emotion of the mind influences the lachrymal glands, which copiously secrete and pour forth the crystal drops, and these, as they appear upon the surface of the eye, we denominate tears.

sympathics awake-let it have a sacred claim upon all that we can do to succour and comfort under affliction. What rivers of tears have flown, excited by the cruel and perverse ways of man! War has spread its carnage and desolation, and the eyes of

widows and orphans have been suffused with tears! Intemperance has blighted the homes of millions, and weeping and wailing have been incessant! A

fruits for the tables; several gardeners are retained
in the establishment. Over the dining room is an
apartment of precisely the same dimensions, fitted
up for a ball room; and an excellent band is kept
during the entire season, for the purpose of amusing
the visitors. In another part of the premises a ten-
pin alley is fitted up. Indeed, taking the whole ar-
rangements of the hotel, we cannot speak too highly
of them. The perfect comfort of the visitor is the
proprietor's evident aim. There are single as well
as double bedrooms in different parts of the build-
ing; the log houses are intended for families, as
each little house is fitted up for one, which can live
as privately as possible, or mix with the general
company-whichever seems the most agreeable.
Many of the parties lodged in the hotel are in the
habit of exploring the Cave more than once-fre-
quently perhaps, before they can acquire even a par-
tial knowledge of it. In this case, the rule is, that
they pay their entrance or cave-fee once, and so
often as the guides go in with fresh visitors, the old
visitors have the privilege of accompanying them,
without being required to pay any second fee-so
that a particular party may visit the Cave a hundred
times, and yet only pay one fee. Persons form 66
themselves into companies, each day, to hunt, or
fish, as well as to visit the Cave.

The first engraving is a view of the Cave Hotel,
conducted by Mr. Miller. It consists of a number
of buildings, of different dates, having been increased
from time to time to meet. It is two stories high,
and two hundred feet long, with brick buildings at
each extremity, showing their gable ends in front.
The space in front is occupied by a long wooden
Our second engraving gives a view of the entrance
building, with a piazza, and gallery over it. At the to the Cave, which is about two hundred yards from
end of the hotel runs a long row of log houses, one the back of the hotel. Leaving it, the expectant
story high, with colonades in front, the whole tourists pass down a beautiful ravine, having on
length, which must be near two hundred feet. each of its sides towering trees, their foliage form-
These colonades and piazzas must be very conve-ing a beautiful arch overhead, so umbrageous as to
nient in wet weather, helping to form as they do, a shut out all vision of the blue sky. About the trees
beautiful promenade, protected from the rain or sun. grape-vines are entwined, and flourish in luxuriance.
The dining room of the hotel is a spacious apart- For a painter, the scene now presented would make
ment, while the fare displayed upon its table is of the a splendid study. It is difficult, in fact, to find
finest quality. Venison is always to be found here words sufficiently expressive to describe the beauty
in abundance. A large kitchen garden is kept in a of this spot. Descending gradually to the bottom
high state of cultivation, to furnish vegetables and of the dell, and turning sharply around to the right

thousand other evils which we may conquer have given birth to tears enough to constitute a flooda great tide of grief. Suppose we prize this little philosophy, and each one determine never to excite a tear in another-how pleasantly will fare mankind! Watching the eye as the telegraph of the mind within, let us observe it with anxious regard; and whether we are moved to complaint by the existence of supposed or real wrongs, let the indication of the coming tear be held as a sacred truce to unkindly feeling, and all our efforts be devoted to the substitution of smiles for tears!



HE illustrations that we here present of several
interesting points about the Mammoth Cave
are from an Illustrated Guide published in this city,
by Stringer and Townsend.


hand, the visitor approaches the entrance of the Mammoth Cave.

He is now under its arch, having made a descent of some thirty feet of rude stone steps. Before him is a small stream of water. It falls from the front of the crowning rock, its sound being wild and unequal. The ruins below receive it, and it ultimately disappears in a deep pit. Let the visitor now look backwards. How awful must be his sensations! All is utter gloom; and well may he exclaim, "This is chaos!"

The other illustration is a view of the Gothic gate. It is so named from its strong resemblance to a Gothic building. Its dimensions are, in width forty feet, height, fifteen feet, length two miles. Nothing can be more smooth than the appearance of the ceiling; in fact, it seems as though the artizan had given it the last touch, and it was only waiting the process of drying.



HEY will be here soon, I should think," said the youngest of three sisters, who were gathered close around the fire, in the well-furnished drawing-room of one of the principal houses in the suburbs of Brankleigh, a large manufacturing town in the north of England.

"How odd it will feel," said the second sister, "to call her 'mamma;' a girl no older than one'sself! But I shall never think of doing it: will you, Carry?"

"Just like you, Jane, to have such an idea at all. Of course, we shall at first call her 'Mrs. Sellers;' and, if she should turn out tolerably agreeable on further acquaintance, we may even get so far as her Christian name."

"Which is, I believe, Martha. What a plain,

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common name! I would rather be called anything.
But, Carry, what a strange creature she must be,
if you really come to think of it, to marry a man
like my father! I should as soon have dreamed of
marrying old West, the apothecary. If she had
been a woman of forty, I should not have wondered,
or even a very poor person; but for a girl of three-wearer of the straw bonnet.
and-twenty, and an heiress"

The young lady's wonderment was interrupted by the sound of carriage-wheels and a bustle at the outer gate; and the three sisters ran to the windows, to have the first glimpse of the bride.


with rose-coloured ribbons; and in another moment | she is rather tired with her long journey; and in
the carriage stopped, and a good-looking man of the plain dark-green alpaca in which she tra-
about fifty descended from it. He took out a few velled "-
packages, and then offered his hand to the lady
within. The sisters had by this time reached the
hall steps, just in time to be introduced to the

"What do you think of her?" said Jane to Carry, when, having left Isabella with the bride, they retired to their own apartment, to dress for dinner.

"I can scarcely tell. She appears to be very plainly dressed, and is just one of those who are The morning had been intensely cold, and now neither one thing nor another in appearance; neilarge flecks of snow were gently falling. The win- ther plain nor handsome, tall nor short, dark nor dows in which the young ladies stationed them- light. I hope she is not a quiz. I am inclined to selves commanded a view of what was called by think so, from her being dressed so very plainly for courtesy the lawn. At the end of this, and nearly a bride; and a woman with a handsome fortune, too." opposite the hall-door, were the large, green, palli- "Well, we shall see. Here comes Bella." saded gates, opening on to a carriage-drive that ran Numerous were the questions asked of Isabella, around the lawn, and was somewhat disproportioned and very unsatisfactory were her replies. In fact, to the size of the grounds. The carriage came it became evident that their father's young wife was slowly on, crunching beneath its wheels the dead not to be understood upon one interview. leaves that had fallen during the morning. The "I like her, too," said Isabella. "I think she is sisters caught sight of a straw bonnet, trimmed very kind; and I fancy she can look pretty. But

"Oh! that was alpaca, was it? I did not notice. Only fancy, alpaca for a bride!"

The dinner-bell rang.

"Oh, dear! Carry, just clasp my bracelet. I had no idea it was so late; and here we have been chattering. Papa will be so angry."

But papa was not angry at all. He was seated by the drawing-room fire, talking to his young wife, who had placed herself on a low ottoman by his side, and was looking up into his face with such an expression of loving confidence, that the sisters were quite struck by it.

"How odd!" they whispered to each other, as they proceeded to the dining-room; "she really loves him, then."

So possessed were they by this novel idea, that they forgot to remark her dress, which would at another time have claimed all their attention. She was attired in a rich black satin, made as plainly as possible. There was not a single ornament of any kind, save a little trimming of good lace; yet it well

became the youthful bride, whose appearance was quite altered when he looks at her. Do you know,
striking, from its very simplicity.
I really think I shall give over calling her so for-
The second Mrs. Sellers was evidently a charac-mally, Mrs. Sellers !'"
ter, and that of no ordinary kind. Calm and self-

"Have you looked at it? Any particular news?" "No, I have been too busy. Dearden, the editor of the Ladies' Scrap-Book,' you know, wrote to me "But, then, Martha! I can never manage the to send him an article on a particular subject; so I possessed in manner, her high, wide forehead pre-Martha,'" said Carry. "And as to saying 'mam-set to at once, and have been busy at it until now." sented a splendid study for a phrenologist. She ma,' it is quite ridiculous; such a simple-looking "Well, that is good news, at any rate. Now, had clear, dark eyes, that looked the very mirror of body, with no womanly airs about her." darling, help me to dress." innocence and trusting affection; but there was a depth in them, a depth inscrutable to ordinary observers, which concealed a truly masculine energy of thought and feeling. Her peculiarities, however, as evinced by her conversation and daily course of proceeding, will be best developed in the progress of our tale.

"How cold it is!" said Mr. Sellers, as, the dinner having been removed, and the wine and dessert placed upon the table, the party of five drew their chairs around the fire. "How cold it is!" he repeated, rubbing his hands over the cheerful blaze.

"Shall I prepare you some walnuts?" asked his youthful wife, placing herself next him, and ing in his face with that devoted look of hers.

"My dear, you are very kind."
"Papa," said Isabella, "when will it be Christ-

"No, dear. The carts make such a noise; and, "Hush! Jane; I can't bear to hear about it. My besides, though I don't know where it comes from, father has been a different man ever since. You there is a most disagreeable smell. I just put my and Isabella were too young to know all the sorrows head out early this morning, and it made me quite of that dreadful time. I believe it killed mamma." sick. So I closed the window again; and here I have been writing-writing-all the day, even while you have enjoyed that sweet slumber which has so revived you. No wonder you feel the room close. will set the door open, if you don't mind that crying child in the opposite chamber."

In how many families is there some sorrowful, mystery, some fault committed by a once beloved and esteemed member of the household, and over smil-which is cast the veil of silence, moistened with the


secret tears of vain regret.

"Can't you calculate, my love? To-day is the

13th. It will be on the-let me see,"

"On Thursday week, papa," said Jane. "I like it best to occur on Thursday. It is several years since it fell on that day."

"Thursday" continued the unconscious Jane, who was singularly devoid of tact and perception. "Where were we living when Christmas day was on a Thursday? I must have been quite a child." "Jane, can't you hold your chattering tongue ?" whispered her elder sister, angrily.

Mrs. Sellers sat with downcast eyes. She felt that she was treading on unknown ground. Jane looked offended, and her sisters uncomfortable; while their father preserved an absolute silence. A few seemingly insignificant words had destroyed the harmony of the party. But the young bride was full of benevolence; so she resumed her preparation of the walnuts, and asked her husband to pour out half a glass of sherry.

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'No, never mind. Let us have tea; and sit by me on the sofa, my dearest. While you make tea, I will have a look at the paper."

So Mary gave her husband the paper, and set handily about her business of preparing tea. She put two little spoonfuls of congou in the pot, with a pinch of carbonate of soda, to make it draw. Then, going to the old mahogany side-board, she took from


The subject seemed to annoy Mr. Sellers. As OUR readers must proceed with us along one of one of the deep drawers at the side, a small pot of

Jane proceeded in her speech, his brow darkened, and he turned away, and hastily drank off a bumper of port. His wife looked up at him with a glance of anxious inquiry.

the oldest and filthiest streets of Brankleigh;
where the rumble of carts passing along from the
coal-staiths and corn and iron warehouses, added to
the uncouth cries of the dirty children playing about
in the mud, and the oaths and loud talking of the
brutalised men who pursued their several callings in
the midst of the smoke and impure smells of the
place, formed by no means a fitting atmosphere for
one who had to gain her hard-earned bread by the
labours of her pen. Yet there she sat, in the close,
confined room of a small lodging, leaning her head
upon her hand, and endeavouring to elaborate from
her confused brain a short tale for one of the peri-

marmalade, a little loaf, and some sugar and butter.
These, with a pennyworth of cream, which was
brought by the milk-man to the door, and served
them for both tea and breakfast,constituted their meal.
Just as the delicate-looking little woman seated
herself upon the sofa, as her husband had requested,
and proceeded to pour out the tea, she was startled
by a violent exclamation; and, looking anxiously at
him, perceived his emaciated face all in a glow.
"What is the matter, dear Henry?" she said.
'What affects you so much?"


"Mary, dearest," called a faint voice from the ad- der what your sisters will say to it." joining bedroom.

The authoress obeyed the call, with a sigh which she smothered as she drew near the bed of the


"Did you ever hear," she asked, in her peculiarly winning voice, "of the practice of soaking walnuts in sherry? See, I have filled the glass. Taste how good they are."

Her husband smiled kindly upon her, and took the glass. The girls lifted their drooping heads, and the conversation resumed its usual tone; but no farther mention was made of the unfortunate Christmas Thursday.

"She will wonder," said Jane, "what we meant about Thursday and Christmas-day. You pinched my arm so, Carry, that I am sure it is black and blue. Yes: see the marks of your thumb and finger. How should I remember that poor dear sister"

"I wonder," said Caroline, as she took off a magnificent amethyst and emerald brooch, in her dressing-room that evening: "I wonder why the new Mrs. Sellers wears no ornaments. Did you ever see a bride dressed so plainly? She must have some ornaments. We will make her show us her jewel-box."

"She is a kind creature," said Isabella. "How fond my father appears to be of her! His face is

On the day of the bride's arrival at her future home, and while she was sitting with her husband and his children in their comfortable dining-room, another and very different scene was passing in another quarter of the same town.

The invalid was speedily attired in his old blue dressing-gown, and laid on the little hard sofa in the sitting-room.

"The room feels close," he said. "Have you had the window open to-day?"

"What is it, dear?" she asked in her most cheerful tone, as she gently drew back the curtain, and leaned over the bed.


'Something that concerns you Mary, much more nearly than myself. Who would have believed it? What strange things do happen, to be sure! I won

"Give me the paper, dear, and let me see this wonderful news for myself. You are far too excitin-able, Henry. Where is the place? Do show me.”

"There little woman. Who is excitable now!" Mary looked fondly in her husband's face, and took his long, thin fingers within her own, while

she read:

"I think, Mary, I shall be able to get up. I feel "On the 12th instant, at St. James's Church, Cota little stronger this afternoon, sweet wife.” terell, by the Rev. Walter Thomas,'- Why, "Thank God for it, darling. But take care you Henry, this is never my father who has been getare not exerting yourself too soon." ting married again! It must be a hoax. My poor dear mother! Surely he would never wish to replace her!"


The sufferer raised himself in the bed.
he said, "how much better my pulse is."
She took his emaciated wrist between her fingers,
and counted its feeble throbbings.


Yes, it is improved. Fuller, and not so intermitting. How pleased Mr. Fairlegh will be to find you so much better!"

"By the by, Mary, where is the paper he brought me yesterday ?"

"The 12th instant," musingly remarked the husband. "The 12th-what is to-day, love?"

"Wednesday was the 10th. It is the 13th. There must be some mistake. Why! the paper is nearly a month old, and we have been reading it for a new one. How out of the world we are!" "Out of every world but your literary one, my. "Here, love, in the closet. I put it out of your dear. I can't imagine how Fairlegh could make way until it was proper for you to read it." such a mistake as to bring me such an old paper."

"This cannot be a hoax, either,” said Mary, resuming the topic of the marriage. "And yet my father is the last man in the world whom I should have expected to take such a step. A little more marmalade, dearest ?"

"While we are wondering," said Henry, smiling, "we might as well just think where our Christmasdinner is to come from."

"Ah! I have not thought of that yet," said Mary; "Christmas-day is-when?"

"On Thursday week. We have hitherto managed to keep Christmas in some fashion; and, though matters are worse with us now than ever before"

Mary wiped a tear from her eye, and rose to clear away the tea-things, and revive the scanty fire, which had sunk down to a few red ashes. She then went to the window, and stood for a few minutes observing the shivering passengers below, who hurried along in the lamp-light; hats, bonnets, and shoulders whitened with the snow that fell in huge flakes, but melted immediately on the trampled mud of the pavement, moist with the rain of the previous day.


"We will have a Christmas-pudding, won't we, love, though we pinch a little for it? Well, we will see; there are twelve days yet. How I should like a peep at the second Mrs. Sellers! Bah! the word does not seem natural. I never will call her mother,' whatever age she may be."

Matrimony was a favourite topic with Mr. Fairlegh. Why he was so bitter about it, nobody knew; for he had never, to any one's knowledge, experienced the annoyances of that state himself.



Now, I consider that unkind of my little wife. Suppose she should turn out a very angel, a Christmas angel?'"

'You don't intend to set to work again, do you?" he asked, as Mary brought a quire of foolscap to the "Nonsense, Henry. Do you suppose that any table, and, dipping her pen in the inkstand, began one could equal my own dear mother?" to write.

'Here comes Mr. Fairlegh at last," she exclaimed. "How thankful you ought to be, Henry, for such a friend. He never fails you, hail, rain, or Poor man! it is a pity he has not plenty of He would know how to turn it to good

snow. money. account."

"Ah! wife, thou art mercenary, I fear." "No; I only meant "

The door opened, and in came a tall, well-built, gentlemanly-looking man, with a huge head of curly black hair, sprinkled with grey, which he had the habit of holding down, as if iminersed in the abstraction of deep reflection. When he raised his remarkable head, and looked straight at you with his thoughtful black eyes, shining from under prominent and shaggy brows, it needed a most perfect candour and rectitude of intention to meet that scrutiny unblenched; for you felt that there stood a man whose perception penetrated all disguise and pettinesses of feeling, and who possessed, besides, a stern sense of justice that was ready to expose and annihilate everything that was not genuine. With the false and hypocritical he was a very Joab; but innocence and confident integrity experienced an indescribable sense of protection in his benevolent presence, and were drawn towards him, as by an irresistible attraction. Children and dogs always ran to claim acquaintance with Andrew Fairlegh; and children and dogs generally know pretty well what they are about in matters of affection.

the fire, shook himself like a huge dog. Then lay themselves and their toilets for the important
ing aside his shaggy great-coat, and a massive stick occasion.
that he always carried, and which was so like him
in general appearance, that his friends considered it
quite a part of him, he first took Mary's hand with
a kindly greeting, and then seating himself beside
the invalid, entered into an examination of his con-


"All well, so far," he said, in his deep, musical voice. "Our little nurse performs her duty well. Not like many a wife, who will my love' and 'my dear' her good man while he is able to attend to his business, and buy her satin gowns to gossip about in, and will set off, as soon as the poor fellow fails in health and pocket, to complain among her acquaintance how extravagant he has been, and how irritable and troublesome he is."

"Then why do you sit in that position, with a
side light? Have I not often told you that you will
hurt those sparkling eyes of yours by such proceed-
ings? By-the-by, I had nearly forgotten. Here is
a parcel of the brown candles I told you of, that
give such a brilliant light." And he went to his
overcoat, and pulled an immense packet out of the
front pocket.
“And here, too,” said he, producing
a small pot wrapped in blue paper, "is some more
of that marmalade you told me you liked, Henry,
my good boy. Take care you are always equally
candid in stating your fancies."

"Thank you; but you are really too kind
"Too kind! What do you mean? Can any one
be too kind? Is any one too kind? If Christ were
to come upon the earth again, would he find one in
a thousand anything like the good Samaritan?
Answer me that."

The argument was incontrovertible. Henry
Drummond was obliged to resign himself, as he had
done a hundred times before, to the disinterested
bounties of his friend.

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Why do you think so, my dear?" inquired he, unconsciously, proceeding to put a delicate slice "Oh, yes! indeed I do," she answered. "Busi- into each of their plates. ness will not wait." Because-because


"Now," said Jane to Carry, as they stood arranging their hair before the cheval-glasses in their dressing-room, while a comfortable fire burned in the grate, and took off the chill of the foggy morning-" now we shall see our young mamma like a bride at last. Hark! there is the breakfast-bell. How do I look, Carry?"


'Very well, indeed. I don't think we shall make by any means a despicable appearance. Don't you wish we had a maid?"

"Perhaps papa will let us have one now. Come, let us go to breakfast."

Down to breakfast they all went, in their beautiful amber satins. Mr. and Mrs. Sellers speedily followed; and the surprise of the three sisters may be imagined when the plain black satin again met their eyes.


"Come," said the latter, after he had sat about an hour, and they had thoroughly discussed the topic of Mr. Sellers's marriage, but in a low tone, not to disturb the pale, young authoress "come, Mrs. Drummond, get your husband to bed, and I will take myself off. He has talked long enough for that excitable head of his."

So Andrew Farleigh took his departure; and Mary, having seen her husband safe in bed, returned to her quire of foolscap, and sat late into the night, spinning out her brains into a rich and fanciful web, for the amusement, and, possibly, instruction, of the fair readers of The Lady's Scrap-Book."


'Then you are not going to appear at church this morning, papa," said Carry, as Mr. Sellers commenced cutting the cold boiled ham into "Vauxhalls."


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"Because I am not in fitting attire ?" inquired the bride, smiling archly.

"Yes," answered Caroline, smiling also, and at the same time blushing a little.


Your father and I are certainly going to church, but we do not see why we should make a fuss about it. We go just as we should on any other Sunday. The house of God is not a show-room.”


Then you don't mean to sit for company?"

"No, my love," replied Mr. Sellers; "Martha and I have agreed to dispense with all such foolish and useless ceremonies. Those of our friends who know that we have returned, and wish to keep up our acquaintance, will call, just as they would at any other time. We shall always be happy to see them."

Caroline and Jane were much disappointed by this decision. They had anticipated all the glory of sitting in state, which was rigidly kept up in Brankleigh; the chocolate and bridecake, the room full of elaborately dressed ladies and gentlemen, and the blushes of the bride and her satellites, looking their very best for the occasion. What an opportunity for touching the heart of young Somerville, who would be sure to escort his sisters; or of rich Mr. Woodhouselee, the banker-and all lost! What possible good was a wedding in the family, without all the proper accompaniments? Jane and Carry inwardly vowed, that if they had ever the good luck to be married, they would have something like a wedding.

Not so with Isabella. Younger by some years than her sisters, and more simple-minded, she was already disposed to look up to the superior character of her new relation, and appreciate her intentions. Besides, she could not help admiring the perfect harmony that existed between her and her husband, It was Sunday morning; and, according to time- and which is so rarely to be met with in that holy This man, such as we describe him, walked into honoured custom, the bride ought to make her state, where spirit as well as "flesh" should be the little parlour where Henry Drummond was still appearance at church in all her wedding finery." one." It had not been so in her own mother's lying extended on the sofa, and, advancing towards The young ladies at Beech-House had duly prepared lifetime. Though both Mr. Sellers and his first



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