CHAPTER I.

Two of the prettiest and most attractive girls at a large evening party, were Clara Harper and Julia May; the former distinguished for her sprightly manners and tasteful dress; the latter for her cultivated mind, her gentleness, and her quiet good sense. They were on terms of intimacy, and whilst the company was assembling, Clara sought an opportunity for a few minutes conversation with her friend.

"What did you think, Julia, of the new beau to whom I introduced you, on Thursday night, at our house?" she asked.

"Mr. Barclay.--I was much pleased with him. I do not remember to have met with a young man, who in as short a time proved himself, in various ways, so entertaining and agreeable."

"I am glad that he made a favourable impression, for my object in coming to talk to you was to propose transferring him to you."

"Am I to take that as a disinterested act of friendship?" asked Julia, smiling.

"By no means; I am not more heroic in such matters than other people," replied Clara. “I merely wished to get rid of him myself. I do not think he makes sufficient effort for my amusement."

"You must be very exacting. I remarked him to be assiduously polite, and apparently anxious to make his conversation interesting to you."

"Oh, yes, as far as mere talking goes, he acquits himself well enough, but I should like to have some practical proofs of his desire to please. To come to the point,-when a gentleman has spent several evenings with me, I expect that he will acknowledge the favour of my company by inviting me to some attractive place of resort. Now, Edward Barclay has called nearly every week for the last two months, and has never once proposed my going with him to the theatre, nor even to a single concert."

Perhaps he does not himself frequent such places."

"But, why does he not? he reads Shakspeare, and is fond of singing, so I think he can have no religious scruples against going, and he certainly knows that I have none."

spectable merchant, like Edward Barclay, who I know can afford it, omits such attentions, I am always inclined to think that he is too careful of his money, that he is not generous."

"Without even inquiring if he may not spend it for better purposes, to be generous of money, if I can understand, is not merely to spend it, but to spend it in the right way."

"Dear Julia! pray, none of your nice distinctions!" interrupted Clara, laughing; "that reminds me so much of the talk of Edward Barclay himself;-you will suit each other exactly! I would not marry one of your moralizing, calculating men for the world. Give me a liberal, an open-handed fellow, who would never think either of cost or propriety when my gratification was concerned, but would spend his last dollar to afford me the slightest amusement. I am sure I never could be happy with any other."

"Ah, you are a cunning girl,-I see you are determined to take care of number one!" said a middle-aged widow, who, sitting near them, had been listening to the dialogue; and she now nodded sagaciously to Clara.

"Mrs. Cassiday! I did not observe that you were close enough to hear us," exclaimed Clara, and colouring deeply, she added with earnestness, "but I beg you will not misunderstand me. If I valued a liberal disposition only through selfish considerations, I would prove my own to be no better than such as I consider odious in another. I love an open hand because I believe that it is always the companion of a warm heart, which rejoices in promoting the happiness of all connected with it."

"Of course,-certainly," replied Mrs. Cassiday, who neither possessed any sentiment herself nor understood it in others; "I agree with you decidedly, and if you will let me choose for you, I can supply you with a beau who will be exactly to your mind, Stanly Weatherburn, who boards in the same house with me, and whose circumstances are fully equal to those of Mr. Barclay. I believe you are not acquainted with him."

"No, ma'am; but I have seen him at a great many public places," said Clara.

No doubt, for he is to be seen everywhere, and the young ladies all delight to have him for a gallant, he is so handsome and genteel, and dresses with so much elegance. He is the most generous young man I have ever known, and thinks nothing too much to do for the ladies whose company he frequents. He has season tickets to the theatre, to concerts, and to all kinds of as

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semblies, and besides that, he almost daily makes presents to some one or other, which he selects with perfect taste, and bestows with the greatest delicacy and grace imaginable. If he could make up his mind to fall in love with any particular person, he would prove the best husband in the world. He will be here to-night, and you shall have an introduction to him. So, Miss Julia, pray do her the favour to take Mr. Barclay off her hands at once."

The girls answered gaily and moved away, little thinking that their careless chat would long afterwards be thoughtfully remembered as having led to the most important step in the life of each. Before many months went round, Clara was united to the most devoted of lovers, Stanly Weatherburn, and a few weeks later saw Julia the wife of Edward Barclay.

Julia was one of a large family, living conformably to their circumstances, which were moderate, and though, with the sadness natural to an affectionate heart, she sighed to be the first link broken from the household chain, yet her regret was always softened into cheerful anticipation, when she thought of being the mistress of her "own home" -a bright, happy, quiet, well-ordered home, as in her fancy she always pictured it. Her pleasant visions promised to be doubly realized, when, on the day after their marriage, her husband escorted her to the dwelling he had prepared for her. It was in a good neighbourhood, new, and of a neat though not showy exterior. When they entered the parlours, a single glance satisfied her that every thing there was in accordance with her unambitious but correct taste, for the various articles of furniture suited the house, their individual places, and corresponded with each other. The presence of her mother-in-law, a woman of worth and intelligence, who had received and welcomed them, somewhat restrained the bride from a full expression of her gratification, but Edward read it in her countenance, and excusing himself, under the plea of arranging the contents of a handsome book-case, which occupied a recess in the back parlour, he asked his mother to conduct her over the premises. The upper rooms were worthy of those below. Nothing that was needed for comfort and convenience had been neglected, and though there was no deficiency of elegance, neither were there indications of unnecessary expense and display. Tears of pleasure came into the eyes of Julia when Mrs. Barclay pointed out sundry little arrangements that had been made for her especial

use.

"How kind and thoughtful Edward has been," said she.

"It would not be politic," returned her motherin-law, "to allow him all that credit, lest you should conceive too high an expectation of his domestic qualifications. Few men can enter into the more minute details of domestic economy, and Edward, though not uncommonly obtuse, is not much more gifted on that point than others;

he has, therefore, been obliged to apply for a little female assistance, meaning my own. The outline of the plan, however, let me assure you, was all his own. In one particular," she continued, as they ascended to the attic story, "he was express in his directions, having noticed that it was one too generally neglected;-that the part of the house allotted to the domestics should be made, as much as possible, what people of their class would consider home-like, and not be left so as to suggest to them invidious comparisons between your own commodious accommodations and their privations. And I have no doubt that you agree with him that those on whom so much of our comfort depends, should be induced to minister to it cheerfully, by our giving them proofs that we are not careless of theirs."

Julia cordially assented, while she gave a look to the neat and substantial though coarse carpets, the nice window-blinds, the good beds, and the capacious drawers for clothing, and Mrs. Barclay, laying her hand on a well-worn Bible which, with a few religious books, was placed on a little table, remarked,

"This is a good sign. If I find that servants understand and conform to their religious duties, I have no apprehension that they will prove unfaithful to my requisitions. When I am in need of one, I am always careful to satisfy myself in that respect, and, in a city like this, with a little patience one may have a choice-for I consider that a mere proficiency in the routine of their calling is by no means sufficient to make them valuable in a family. I thought of this while engaging a couple for you."

They next visited the kitchen, which, with its array of shining tins and clean new crockery, could hardly have failed to be an inviting place to a young lady, who, like Julia, had taken pains to acquaint herself with the occupations pertaining to that apartment. A respectable looking, elderly woman and a modest, tidy young girl were waiting with much curiosity for a sight of the bride.

"I suppose, Sarah," said Mrs. Barclay to the former, who held open the door of the pantry to give them a view of its contents, "you will find provisions enough for your first dinner?"

"Oh, yes ma'am! every thing is as plenty and snug as if we had been carrying on business for a year, and a little marketing, now and then, to help along with the stock laid in, will keep us agoing for months to come. It would be worth your while to take a look into the cellar, too,-it is filled with as good wood as ever I put on a fire."

"You will stay for dinner with us, my dear madam," said Julia, when they had returned to the parlours.

"Oh, no, no, my love; you and Edward must eat your first meal in your own house entirely alone, and you will enjoy it the more. You will have so much to talk over, so many questions to ask and answer, so many plans to propose and

canvass, that a third person would be quite in the way. I know from experience, that some of the happiest moments a young couple like yourselves can spend, as well as the most useful, in seeing into each other's character, are those in which they are discussing their mode of life for the future. But, before I go, dear Julia, I must remember to show you my special present," and she pointed to a beautiful little work stand, proceeding so as to put a stop to the thanks of her daughter-in-law; "I took it upon me to deprive Edward of the pleasure of providing it himself. Here is an extra appendage to it," taking from a drawer a new blank book, lettered on the back Family Accounts," "such an article as I, from long custom, find indispensable. Do not consider my placing it here a hint for you to use it, unless you are so inclined. Old housekeepers are mostly addicted to advising young ones, but in myself I always restrain the propensity until I see that my views will prove welcome. I merely thought that as you were methodical in your habits, and prudently disposed, you might like to keep memoranda of what your comforts would cost you. But, good morning. I will look in to-morrow, and ask how you get on."

A large, stylish-looking house in the same square, whose polished windows of plate glass increased the lustre of the costly curtains they revealed, was now tenanted by our acquaintance, Clara, and her husband. They had taken a long and expensive bridal tour, not for the solitary and romantic enjoyment of their honeymoon, but attended by a train of bridesmaids and groomsmen, to give their nuptials the greater eclât, and had established themselves in it immediately on their return. After they had been at housekeeping about a fortnight, Mrs. Cassiday, who never lost an opportunity to take the credit of the match to herself, stopped, one afternoon, to make them a visit. It was in the latter end of October, the air unusually raw and chilly, and as she rang the bell her fingers worked stiffly in her thin kid gloves. Impatient for a chance to thaw them, she gave the handle a second jerk before there had been time to answer the first, and then hurried into the spacious parlours, sending up her name to Mrs. Weatherburn. She had just had time to discover that there was no fire in either room, when Clara, wrapped in a large shawl, came running down stairs with a promptness that assured her of a welcome.

"You see, my dear," said Mrs. Cassiday, "I am as good as my word to come and sit an afternoon with you."

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ing, to keep myself warm, and have worn my shawl ever since."

And what a superb shawl it is!" exclaimed Mrs. Cassiday, who was remarkable for a faculty of seeing every thing that every body wore, and that was in every body's house, and also, of ascertaining its price, "I did not know that you had provided yourself with a shawl like that."

"Oh, it is not one of my wedding things; you know we were married seven or eight weeks ago, and as it was so early in the season, and the winter fashions had not come in, I only supplied myself with such as were necessary for summer and autumn. This, you perceive, is for winter, though the present weather makes it seasonable. It is Stanly's first addition to my wardrobe, and a generous one it is," adding the cost by way of satisfying her friend's prevailing passion.

"Is it possible? but that is just like Stanly Weatherburn!" said Mrs. Cassiday; 66 most husbands would grumble at the mention of such an article."

"It was his own proposition to get it," said Clara; we were walking out yesterday, and on my complaining of feeling a little chilly, he proposed that I should step into 's and get a

warmer shawl. He would not hear of my selecting one of a lower price, and to gratify him I have been sporting it all day, though it is too bad to be taking the freshness off it by wearing it in the house. I have been sitting in my chamber ever since dinner, as I find it the most comfortable place. The windows have not been raised for a day or two, and consequently the cold air has not had a chance to get in. We ought to have a fire here, but, unfortunately, we have got no coal yet; I remind Stanly of it every time he comes in, but somehow he always forgets it, and this morning I had a wood fire made in my own room, but the chimney smoked so, I was glad to have it put out."

"What! smokey chimneys in this elegant new house?"

"Yes, indeed, ma'am; we can't expect to have a house without some disadvantages, and to comfort for this, Stanly tells me that the best houses in town, some of them, smoke badly. He does not seem to mind it,-I suppose because he expects to be so little at home."

"But how splendidly you are fixed! I really don't wonder that old people complain, and say, that young folks, now-a-days, are not satisfied unless they can begin where their parents left off! -what beautiful chairs and ottomans!-would nothing suit you less than such elegant cut velvet ones?"

"Oh, Mrs. Cassiday, it was all Stanly's fault," said Clara with an expression that showed her to consider the fault a very venial one; "he says that when one buys a thing, it may as well be the best."

"But this colour is so delicate, they will soon soil."

"Every one of them presents from my husband; he hardly ever enters the house without bringing something of the kind. This was his yesterday's present," and Clara took from the mantel a rich silver cup containing a bouquet of hot-house flowers; but though she was on a theme of which she could not tire,-her husband's munificence; and though she had a willing auditress, the room was so cold that the very flowers looked ready to shiver, and drawing her shawl around her, she cast an anxious eye towards the empty grate.

"It would not be such a bad idea to have some wood put into one of the grates and a fire kindled," said Mrs. Cassiday; "I have seen that done when people happened to be out of coal."

Much pleased with the suggestion, Clara rang the bell, and gave orders to have it acted upon, proposing that until the fire had commenced burning they should go up stairs.

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I perceive that you are using your elegant French bed in your own room," observed Mrs. Cassiday. "I supposed that you intended it for a spare chamber, when I heard at the upholsterer's that it was the handsomest bought in the city during the year."

"That was my intention, but as Stanly would not get a less expensive one for ourselves, I had to agree to use it, and here is the one he ordered for the other room," and Clara opened the door. The visitor expanded her eyes wider than ever at the sight of the sumptuous bed, loaded with damask hangings, and glittering with gilded ornaments, nor was she less surprised at the richness of the additional furniture of the room. "Upon my word!" she exclaimed, "I did find a prize for you,-such a husband as Stanly Weatherburn is worth having!"

"He is, indeed, the kindest, most liberal fellow in the world," returned the proud and happy Clara; and while arranging for better display the cut-glass bottles on the dressing cabinet, she continued the praises of her husband with such earnestness as not to perceive that her guest had left the apartment. "Where are you, Mrs. Cassiday?" she called, and as the answer reached her from the upper stairs, she followed her, saying, "you are venturing into a region that I have never visited since the first week we came into the house. Stanly insisted on furnishing the third story, but I opposed it with all my might, for, with our small family it was quite unnecessary; and, as the cook is a fat, heavy woman, and grum. bled a great deal about having to go up to the

garret, I thought we might as well allow the servants to sleep in it."

The rooms were open, and a more experienced or more thoughtful housekeeper than Clara could not but have been disconcerted at the aspect they presented. In the one which appeared appropriated to the man-servant, the bed was unmade, a tin wash-basin filled with soapsuds, stood in the middle of the bare floor, with streams that floated balls of flue running from it, and soaking into the boards. An old boot-jack lay near it, flanked by a pair of muddy boots, and the chairs were littered with coats, vests and pantaloons, whose weight had forced from their places the nails by which they had been suspended against the walls, as various irregular holes in the plastering indicated. The adjoining room was in a corresponding state, somewhat aggravated, indeed, by manifestations that its lodgers were more numerous. For instance, where there was but one pair of boots, lay three or four pairs of torn and slipheeled shoes, and instead of a single vest or coat, there was a pile of greasy aprons and faded wrap

pers.

Oh, dear, dear! what a place!" laughed Clara; "but it would be of no use for me to interfere with it; as it is their own concern to keep their rooms comfortable, I am not going to give myself any trouble about it."

"How do you get along with servants?" asked Mrs. Cassiday; "I believe ninety-nine families out of a hundred are worried half out of their lives with them."

"I think we shall succeed with them tolerably —at least we are well enough off as to numbers. Stanly has his own theory on that subject; he says if we only keep plenty and pay them well, there will be no danger of the work not being done. We have four. It is rather too many for us, but servants that demand the highest wages are generally unwilling to do any thing out of a single department, and that obliges us to employ a greater number. I find them otherwise rather too tenacious of their dignity. They expect to have their own way pretty much, and if I express disapprobation at any thing, they hint that they have lived in the most genteel families, and therefore should understand how things are to be done. But, if I let them alone, we get on smoothly enough."

They now returned to the front parlour, and found a fire in the grate as they expected; but the chimney appeared not to draw well, and the wood being green pine, the only sort the cellar afforded, it emitted quite as much smoke as heat. They, however, drew their chairs before it, and, after a while, Mr. Weatherburn coming in from his store, entertained them with a relation of the news of the day. At length tea was announced, and the ladies drew on their shawls to go to the table in the back parlour.

"I am afraid, Mrs. Cassiday, that you will not find your coffee agreeable," said Clara, discover

ing, on tasting her own, that the beverage required an apology; "we always buy the best of Mocha, and have cream as good as can be procured, yet somehow our coffee is often not very good."

Quite agreeable," replied the visitor, "only that it tastes as if some of the grains had been burnt in roasting."

"And the biscuits are rather sad this evening," pursued Clara; "but I think, Stanly, you should bear the blame of that yourself. We have not had a barrel of flour in the house yet, and when any is required, the servants run to the nearest shops about the neighbourhood, and we get every variety of it. Sometimes the rolls and muffins are heavy, and sometimes sour, and generally black as rye; and these biscuits show the quality they are made of. You know, dear, I told you only yesterday that I should like you to send home some good flour."

"I plead guilty," said Mr. Weatherburn; "but I always forget such little matters."

As the butter was as little deserving of commendation as the biscuit, and the smoked-beef was fried to the consistence of chips of leather, Mrs. Cassiday, who had been accustomed to the palatable fare of a good boarding-house, would have had some difficulty to appease her hunger, had it not been for a large finely iced fruit-cake, bearing the mark of a fashionable pastry-cook, to which Stanly directed her. The equal of that had certainly not often graced the boarding-house table, and she applied herself to it with no want of appe

tite.

The smoky, sickly fire in the front parlour, promised little for the cheerfulness of the evening, and Mr. Weatherburn, after drumming with his fingers on the mantelpiece, for a few minutes, and shaking and unstopping the essence bottles on the pier-table, suddenly proposed that they should all adjourn to the theatre. Clara was delighted with the idea, and as Mrs. Cassiday made it a point never to refuse an eligible invitation, they were soon on the way. They had to pass Edward Barclay's house, and when they reached it, Clara remarked,

"If it were not so late, we might step in and have a few minutes' talk with Julia and her good

man.

"There they sit, cosy as Darby and Joan,” said Stanly.

The shutters were not yet closed, and they could see that the room was bright with a glowing fire and a brilliant lamp, and that Edward was reading at a centre-table, well supplied with books, while Julia, with her pretty workstand beside her, sat near him.

"Quite a domestic, romantic scene,-it reminds me of some of the pictures in the magazines and annuals," said Clara, laughing, as they moved on. Through the whole round of winter months Clara continued as elated as if she had won a fairy gift. The husband was so kind, so generous! he

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made her such charming presents; he encouraged her to give such delightful entertainments at her own house, and supplied her with such beautiful dresses to wear to others elsewhere! she for one knew what it was to be happy!

CHAPTER II.

Two years had passed, and two years always bring their changes. What had they been to Clara? She was seated in her chamber for the evening, looking pale and wearied, and holding on her lap a lovely little girl, something more than a year old, whose flushed cheeks and feverish eyes were evident marks of illness. Mr. Weatherburn stood near, attempting to play with the child, who was too languid to notice his movements.

"Well, I must bid you good bye for awhile," said he at length, "I should have been off half an hour ago."

"Are you going out this evening, Stanly?" asked his wife.

Yes, my dear, did I not tell you that I had promised to join some friends in a wine party?"

"I do not remember that you did, and I should be very glad if you would stay at home. I am so worn out with nursing little Mary, and she would be just as quiet with you."

"My dear Clara! why can't you call one of the servants?"

"I do not like to give her up to servants when she is so ill."

"How you talk, Clara; she has no illness of any consequence. I suspect she is getting the hooping-cough."

"No, Stanly, it is not the hooping cough, but a violent cold, and I am confident it is owing to those broken window-panes, which I begged you so to have mended. I have been hoarse for several days, myself."

"Then, why did you not send for a glazier, my dear?"

"Because I had told you about it, and you promised to attend to it."

"But, you know I always forget such little matters; good bye-I'll not be out late." "I'm sure, dear Stanly, you care nothing about a wine party?"

"No, but when it is proposed, one does not like to refuse and be considered churlish," and he went out.

Clara bent her head over the little invalid, and fell into a train of melancholy thought, for, from the gay inconsiderate girl, she had become a thinking woman. Her husband was her theme. He was the same as when she married him, his character had changed neither in its traits nor manifestations, yet she was disappointed and unhappy. A vague retrospect of the past two years presented itself to her memory, which, had she given it form, might have run thus: