Year: 1877

From Chambers Journal1


READY MONEY.


$50 you are going to be married,
Kate? Well, I hope you have made a
wise choice"


20 yes, uncle" I replied lightly IT
know have. Henry is to make me
perfectly happy"


"What has he got?" was the next
pleasant observation that fell from Un-
Gle Jocelyn's lips.


"Got? uncle! don't know what you
mean," answered, growing rosy red
at the unexpected inquiry.


"What are his mean? What does he
intend to settle upon you ?"


HE has his business" promptly in
terrupted my mother.


"And he is SO clever, he is sure to get
on" added, in my eagerness to assure
Uncle Jocelyn it was right as regarded
my future.


'That will depend a great deal upon
you, Kate" he replied gravely. 1.-THE
wife has more to do in making or marry
ing her husband than is generally sus-
pected. A careless, extravagant, bad
wife is the greatest curse man can
have; good one is the greatest bless
ing;n ..,
ing towards my mother, who was smil-
ing somewhat scornfully, I fancied, at
his opinions.


"Take care of his pence and his
pounds will take care of themselves,
continued uncle; "and beware of ever
getting into debt, Kate; it's the easiest
thing to get into and the hardest thing
to get out of. Take my advice live well
within your means and always pay
ready money"


Eyes, uncle; o yes," responded. II
am sure you are right; and Henry il so
prudent, he is certain to have the same
IDEAS"


"Well, keep them before your own
mind. Don't despise an old mans coun-
sci buy nothing that you can't afford,
and always pay ready money"


I remember that conversation SO well
with Uncle Jocelyn, some few weeks be-
fore my marriage; at the time it did not
strike me so forcibly as afterwards, for
to me more interesting matters.


Uncle Jocelyn was an old man, and
the amount of his fortune had always
been wrapped in some obscurity but he
lived comfortably, and possessed small
property in Berkshire, upon which he
had built pretty and substantial house,
where had often spent many happy
days. He had always shown n special
affection for me, no doubt owing to the
fact of my being the daughter of his only
brother, who had died when was quite
an infant, leaving me to the sole guar
dianship of my mother. Unfortunate
ly for me, there had never been any love
lost between the latter and Uncle Joce-
lyn; the GOODNESS had rather increased
than diminished as years went by; and
when invitations were sent for us to
visit Conington, which was the name
of my uncle's place, my mother invaria-
bly, refused for herself and only with
great persuasion permitted me to go.


How I enjoyed those visits How
sweet were the hay-fields and clover
scented meadows! How cool and fresh
the marble stabbed dairy, with its rows
of brimming basins of frothy golden
cream! How fragrant was the old
fashioned garden, with its long grassy
walks and great big dewy roses, and the
old cedar-tree SO shady, under which
Uncle Jocelyn would sit of an afternoon
smoking, listening apparently quite
satisfied with my childish conversation |!
The sun always seemed to be shining in
those days. I can recall no gloom then,
and things all wore charm, which I
did not know lay chiefly in the fact of
my own youth and utter ignorance of
life and its cares.


However, not to digress, I had not seen
SO much OF Uncle Jocelyn since I had
grown up, partly on account of my
ly because of tie existence of new in
terest in life. had met Henry Arden.
He was six-and-twenty, five years my
senior. His position in life was fairly
good one, he having q small interest in
first-rate city business which gave him
over three hundred year his charac-
ter was irreproachable !; and when say
that he was a general favorite where
yer he went, it may be surmised that in
my opinion he was, if not quite perfect.
very closely akin to it. For myself !
was passable-perhaps little more than
that-but I was penniless until my
mother died SO it was very astonish-
ing thing to me how SO desirable part
had fallen to my lot. He was certain to
get on-the senior partners had been
known to say SO themselves. Conse-
quently our start in life promised to be
fair one. And to be brief, we were
married. Our honeymoon was of com.
paratively short duration, but it was long
enough to cost Henry, as I afterwards
learned, something like forty pounds
which was a considerable cut out OF
three hundred year; for it had not oc'
CURED to him to lay by any spare cash
for those unavoidable expenses. had
felt rather uneasy at the expenditure
but it was too early days to venture OF
any remonstrance had been so inclin
ed; we were sure to live very quietly
when we once settled down, and coult
easily then make up for any little ex
travagance of which at the outset W
had been guilty. We were to live il
London, and we were fully agreed OF
one point; lodgings were not to b.
thought of; we must have house o
our own. The prospect of possessing
one Jointly with Henry was very pleas
ant to me. Ipictured an endless funt
! ct amusement and occupation too, il


d