Year: 1859

/ deserve to be called pretty good hus-
band ? laughed the young man, as he
dropped down in the lady's palm half a
dozen gold pieces.


Yes, you are Edward, the very best
husband in the world and she lifted up
her sweet face, beaming with smiles as
June day with shunshine.


Thank you, thank you, for the very
fattering words. And now, dear, l want
you to have the cloak by next Christ
mas. 1 am very anxious to see how
you look in it.


But, Edward gazing steadily into
the shining pieces in her rosy palm, you
know we are not rich people, and it real
iy seems extravaganza for me to give
thirty dollars for velvet cloak


No, it is not, either. You deserve
the cloak, Mary, and I've set my mind
upon your havingit. Then it viii last
you so many years, that it viii be more
economical in the end than less expen-
sive article


1t was evident that the lady was pre-
disposed to conviction. She made no
further attempt to confute her husbands
arguments, and as her small hand closed
over the gold pieces, she rose up, say
ing


Well, dear, the supper has been wait
ing for half an hour, and l know you
must be quite hungry


Edward and Mary Clark were the
husband and wife of year. He was a
book keeper of large establishment,
with salary of fifteen hundred dollars.
His fair young wife made little earthly
paradise of his cottage home, in the
suburbs Of the city, for within its walls
dwelt two lifes that were set like music
to poetry, keeping time to each other
and dwelt also the peace which God
giveth to those who love him.


Mrs. Clark came into the room sud-
denly, and the girl lifted her head, and
turned it away quickly, but not till the
first glance told the lady that the fair
face was swollen and stained with tears.


Janet Hill was young seamtress,
whom Mrs. Clark had occasionally en-
ployed for the last six months. She was
always attracted by her young, bright
face, her modest, yet dignifed manner,
and the lady saw at once that some great
sorrow had smitten the girl.


Obeying the promptings of a warm
impulsive heart, she went to her and laic
ber hand on her arm, saying, softly


Won't you tell me what is troubling
you Janet ?


Nothing that anybody can help an
swered the girl, trying to avert her face
while the tears swelled in her eyes from
the effort she made to speak.


But perhaps 1 can. At any rat
you know it does us good sometimes II
confde our sorrow to a friend, and | nee,
not assure you that l sincerely grieve be
cause of your Distress


And so, with kind words, and half-ca
ressing movements of the little hant
aid on the seamstress' arm. Mrs. Clar
drew from her lips her sad story.


She was an orphan, supporting hel
self by her daily labors, and she ha
one brother, just sixteen, three years he
junior. He had been sometime kin
of underclerk in a large wholesale e
tablishment, where there was every pr,
spect of promotion, but he had seriousl
injured himself in the summer in liftir
some heavy bales of goods, and at last
dangerous fever set in, which had final
left him in so exhausted a state, that ii
doctor had no hope of his recovery.


And to think that ] should never S,
him again, Mrs. Clark cried the POI
girl, with free burst of tears. To thir
he must die away there, among stra
gers, in hospital, with no loving face
bend over him in his last hours,
brush away the damp curls from t
forehead, which mamma used to be pro-
of. 80 George-my darling, my brigl
faced little brother George, and be
the poor girl broke into storm of tear


Poor child, poor child murmur
Mrs. Clark, her sweet eyes swimming
tears How much would if cost to
to your brother, and return ? she ask
at last.


About thirty dollars. have not
much money in the world. You Sc,
is nearly four hundred miles of-bu
could manage to support myself afte
got there.


A thought passed quickly throu
Mrs. Clark's mind. She stood still
moments, her blue eyes fixed in de