A toast was drunk to the prosperity of the lately established household, and the gentlemen went off to the library.

'Always see to putting away your silver, Sarah!" counselled the mother. “And you had ought to get a common set of dinner and breakfast things. This china is too nice for every day use. Of course, Mr. Hammond can afford to get more when this is broken; but it's a first-rate rule, child, as you'll find, to put your money where it will show most. That's the secret of my management. Mr. Hammond must give you an allowance for housekeeping and pin-money. Speak to him about it right away. Men are more liberal while the honeymoon lasts than they ever are afterwards. Strike while the iron is hot. You can't complain of your husband so far. He has set you up very handsome. If I had been consulted about furnishing, I would have saved enough off of those third-story chambers and the kitchen to buy another pair of mirrows for your parlors.

The mantels has a bare look. I noticed

it directly I went in. To be sure, the Parian ornaments are pretty and tasty, and expensive enough-dear knows! but they don't make much of a display."

"I do not like the fashion of lining walls with mirrows," said Sarah in her old, short way; "and am satisfied with the house as it is. Shall we join the gentlemen ?"

Nothing had ever showed her more plainly the degradation of her false position than the confident air her mother wore in making her coarse observations, and instructing, her as to the method of managing her generous, confiding husband. It was the free-masonry of a mercenary wife, whose spouse would have been better represented to her mind by his moneybag than his own proper person, towards another of the same craft, who rated her lawful banker by corresponding rules.

"Will I then really grow to be like her and her associates?" Sarah questioned inly. "Will a fine house and its fixtures, will dress and equipage and pin-money so increase in importance as to fill this aching vacuum in my heart? Will a position in life, and the envy of my neighbors, make up to me for the loss of the love of which I used to dream, the happiness which the world owes me yet? Is this the coin in which it would redeem its promises ?"

Mr. Hunt's mild features wore their happiest expression this evening. He arose at the ladies' entrance, and beckoned his daughter to a seat on the sofa beside him.

"You are a little travel-worn!" he said. "Your cheeks are not very ruddy.'

"Did you ever see them when they were?” asked Sarah, playfully.

"She was always just that pale-when she was a baby," said Mrs. Hunt, setting herself in the arm-chair proffered by her son-in-law. 'Lucy stole all the roses from her." Sarahı may have thought that other and more grievous thefts had succeeded this doubtful one, but she neither looked nor said this. "And that reminds me, Mr. H.! Did you bring Lucy's letter for Sarah to read?”

"I did." Mr. Hunt produced it. "Keep it, and read it at your leisure, Sarah."

"They are supremely happy, I suppose?” remarked Lewis, with the benevolent interest incident to his fellowship of feeling with them.

'

"For all the world like two turtle-doves !" Mrs. Hunt rejoined. "Their letters are a curiosity. It is 'Phil.' and 'Lucy' from one end to the other. I mean to keep them to show to them five years from now. Hot love is soon cool, and by and by they will settle down as sensible as any of the rest of us. You don't begin so, I see, Sarah, and I am pleased at it. Between me and you, it's two-thirds of it humbug! There is Victoria West that was! She looks ready, in company, to eat up that lean monkey of a George Bond. I don't believe but she shows him the other side of the picture in private.'

Sarah heard her father's suppressed sigh, and felt, without looking up, that her husband's eyes sought hers wistfully. The unobservant dame pursued her free and easy discourse. Mr. Hammond was "( one of the family" now, and there was no more occasion for choice grammar or fine sentiments before him.

"Not that I blame Victoria for taking him. He was a good offer, and she wasn't much admired by the gentlemen-rich as Mr. West is. Mr. Bond is twenty-five years older than she is, and wears false teeth and a toupee; but I suppose she is willing to overlook trifles. She watches out for the main chance, and will help him take care of his money, as well as spend it. Vic. is a prudent girl."

"Lucy-Mrs. Benson-was at home when she wrote, was she not?" interrogated Mr. Hammond.

"Yes, at his father's. His mother keeps house, and Lucy has nothing to do but ride, visit, and entertain company. She says the house is crowded the whole time, and she has so many beaux that Philip stands no chance

of speaking a word to her. She is perfectly happy."

Notwithstanding the various feelings of the listeners, none of them could resist this picture of a felicitous honeymoon, so naively spoken. Lewis's laugh cleared the vapors from his brow, and the pain at Sarah's heart did not hinder her from joining in.

"And the ousted bridegroom, perforce, seeks consolation in the society of his fair friends?" said Lewis. "If this is the way young married people show the love-sickness you complained of just now, Mrs. Hunt, I am content with our more staid ways-eh, Sarah ?”

"Quiet ways suit me best," was the answer. "Still water runs deep,'" quoted Mrs. Hunt. "I used to worry over your stay-athome habits and eternal study of books, Sarah ; but I'm ready to say now that you was sensible to behave as you did, as it has turned out. I don't mean to flatter Mr. Hammond, but I'd ten times rather you had taken him than a dried-up widower like George Bond."

"Thank you!" bowed Lewis, desirous of diverting attention from Sarah's growing uneasiness beneath her mother's congratulations.

Mrs. Hunt held on her way. "I never had a fear lest Lucy shouldn't marry well. She was pretty and attractive, and knew too much about the world to throw herself away for the sake of love in a cottage. But now the danger is over, I will allow that I used to mistrust Sarah here sometimes. You was just queer enough to fall in love with some adventurer with a foreign name, and never a cent in his pocket-yes, and marry him, too, in spite of all that could be said and done to prevent it. I was forever in a 'feaze' about you; fancying that you was born to make an out-and-out love-match-the silliest thing a girl can do, in my opinion."

"You never dreamed of her 'taking up,' as the phrase is, with a humdrum individual like myself," said Lewis. "Nor, to be candid, did I, for a long time, Mrs. Hunt. Yet I cannot say that I regret her action, disadvantageous to herself though it was. I wrote to you of our visit to New Orleans, did I not, sir?" he continued to Mr. Hunt, inwardly a little disgusted by the frank revelations his mamma-inlaw was making of her principles and plans.

The subject so interesting to most wedded people, so embarrassing to one of the present party, was not again introduced during the elder couple's stay. When Lewis returned to the library, after seeing them out, Sarah sat where he had left her, her hand shading her

eyes-deep in thought, or overcome by weari

ness.

"You had better go up to your room, dear,” said Lewis. "I wonder you are not worn out completely."

She arose to obey; walked as far as the door, then came back to him.

“It may appear strange to you that I should speak openly of such a suspicion; but I must beg you not to suppose for an instant that in my acceptance of your offer of-marriage, I was actuated by mercenary motives. You look surprised"—she hurried on yet faster while her resolution lasted-" but I could not rest without doing myself this act of justice. Much that mother said to-night might-must have led you to this conclusion. I would not have you think worse of me than I deserve, and of this one act of baseness I am innocent."

"My precious little wife, how excited you are! and over what a nonsensical imagination! Suspect you the noblest as well as the dearest of women-of selling yourself, body and soul, for money? Listen to my speech now, dear Sarah !"

He sat down and pulled her to his knee. "I esteem you, as I love you above all the rest of your sex-above any other created mortal. I know you to be a pure, highminded woman. When I part with this persuasion, may I part also with the life that doubt on this point would render wretched! Judge, then, whether it be possible for me to link this holy realization of womanhood with the thought of another character, which I will describe. I hold that she who enters the hallowed state of wedlock through motives of pecuniary interest, or ambition, or convenience-indeed, through any consideration save that of love, single and entire, for him to whom she pledges her vows, stands, in the sight of her Maker and the angels, on a level with the most abandoned outcast that pollutes the earth she treads. I shock you, I see; but on this subject I feel strongly. I have seen much, too much, of fashionable marriages formed for worldly aggrandizement-for riches ; sometimes in pique at having lost a coveted lover. With my peculiar sentiments, I feel that I could endure no heavier curse than to contract an alliance like any of these. I repeat it, I believe in Woman as God made her and intended she should live, if for no other reason than because I recollect my mother, boy as I was when she died; and because I know and have you, my true, blessed Wife!"

(To be continued.)

THE MAIDS OF HONOR TO MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.

THEY were allowed one gallon of wine, among them all, two rolls of bread each, and the same diet as their royal mistress, which on flesh days consisted of four sorts of soup, and four entrées, a piece of boiled beef, boiled loin of mutton, and a boiled capon. The second course was of roast meats, one joint of mutton, one capon, three pullets or pigeons, three leverets or rabbits, and two pieces of bacon. No sweet dishes are enumerated. The dessert consisted of seven dishes of fruit and preserves, and one dish of chiccory paste.

Supper, which was served at four o'clock in the afternoon, was a repetition of the same viands as at dinner-good, plain, substantial fare, with nothing fanciful. Neither tea, coffee, nor chocolate was known in the sixteenth century; milk, whey, and eau sucrée were the light beverages which supplied the place of those luxuries with Mary Stuart and her maids of honor. Each of these ladies had a manservant and a maid. The men dined with an officer called the Usher of the Ladies and the passementier, an ingenious needleman who worked the borders of dresses and beds, and designed patterns.

Their maids dined at a separate table with the wife of one of the queen's butlers, and one of her female drolls, or fools, called La Jardinière. There were several of these in Queen Mary's establishment, who were dressed in the royal livery-scarlet and yellow. Mary Fleming and her three associate Maries were allowed half a pound of candles between them every night, from the 1st of November till the last of March, and, besides this, a bougie of yellow wax, weighing an ounce, each.

Their salaries on their return to Scotland were 200 livres de Tournois, which would be about the rate of twenty pounds a year; but then they were clothed at the queen's expense, and that very sumptuously. On the anniversary of the death of Francis II. of France, the lamented consort of their royal mistress, black velvet was delivered from her wardrobe stores to each of the four Maries for their second mourning; also black cloth for their ridingcloaks and hoods when the court was going on a progress into the country; and there were tailors in the royal household who made their dresses-no greater impropriety than the employment of male habit-makers in modern times. They had received much higher salaries when Mary was Queen Consort of France, but con

siderable reductions were necessarily made in the wages of both her Scotch and French ladies on her return to Scotland, where the strictest economy was practised in the queen's household, in order not to exceed her reduced income.

THE CASKET OF THE YEAR. BY WILLIE E. PABOR.

Pearl the Fifth.-May.

O SWEETEST month of all the year!
All nature with a welcome waits
To greet you as you pass the gates
That open to this mundane sphere.
Thy sister April, coy and chill,

(Like a chaste virgin, love forsworn,) Scarce yielded daisies for the lawn, Or a green mantle for the hill.

But thou! whose genial bosom glows
With all a lover's ardor-thou!
With radiance streaming from thy brow;
With cheeks the color of the rose-

With steps whose touch to bloom gives birth;
With lips whose breath yields odors rare-
Thou comest, bidding all to share
The glories born to mother Earth.
All day the birds thy praises sing;
All day the roses yield perfume;
And even night discards her gloom
To fold thee 'neath her starry wing.
The farmer at his daily task,

The merchant at his ledger leaves,
The schoolboy binding wisdom's sheaves,
Children, who in thy sunshine bask,
Bless thee in various word and way,

And feel the impulse of thy spell, While even old age loves to dwell Upon the memories of May.

Hope-the bright Phosphor of youth's sky

Points forward unto coming Mays, Within whose wealth of winning ways The endless charms of pleasure lie.

While Memory, whose horizon

Holds Hesper-star of life's decline-
To old age teaches, line by line,
The lessons she from Time hath won.

O sweetest month of all the year!

Of lightness, brightness, bliss, and bloom, Of song, of sunshine, of perfume, Of all that human hearts hold dearAll hail and may thy blessings stay About our daily paths, to yield The treasures of a harvest-field White with the memories of May !

VANITY is the fruit of ignorance, which thrives best in subterranean places, where the air of heaven and the light of the sun cannot reach it.

MRS. LAWRENCE WILLIAMS was an invalid ! In one brief sentence were comprised all the domestic miseries of Lawrence Williams, who had given, fourteen years before our story commences, his heart, hand, and honest love to the lady bearing his name. Poor Lawrence ! His hopes of happiness faded slowly year by year before the tyrant who held his wife chained to her sofa or bed from New Year's till Christmas. He was an upright, simple-minded man, this cousin of mine, about whom I write, yet withal shrewd, and not easily imposed upon, and when I came to spend a few weeks in his particularly uncomfortable residence, he opened his heart to me. We had been companions and confidants in childhood and youth, indeed until his marriage took him from his native town, so I could listen and understand.

"You see how it is, Lizzie," he said, one morning, as he came into the library where I was sitting; "my home is not fit to invite you into."

Why Larry!" I said, surprised to see his genial face so overcast, "what a doleful face !" "And a doleful heart, Lizzie! For the last ten years I have not had a meal in comfort. My children are neglected, my home wretched, ill-trained servants rule the house, and were it not for-for-Oh, Lizzie, what can I do! I love Mary, and this is all that keeps me from absolutely running away. I have thought of getting a housekeeper, but she resents that as a positive insult."

"But, Larry, if she is sick"He interrupted me.

"It pains me more than. I can express to say so, Lizzie, but Mary is not so sick as she fancies. I have no doubt that she suffers; for who can be idle for weeks together, and not feel weak and miserable. But she is never too ill for a party, recovers rapidly when the opera is here, and can attend to a tea-party with perfect ease, but is too ill to see to her house, her husband, or her children.”

It was all true. Five days' residence in the house gave me a complete insight into Mary's character. She was a blonde, who in her days of girlhood was very pretty, but who, in her now neglected dress, with languid movements and sleepy, half opened eyes, was far from

lovely. Her natural indolence, overcome by her love for her husband in the first years of their married life, had degenerated into a laziness that took advantage of every trifling ailment to keep up weeks of invalid privileges. At times shame would drive her into trying to rectify some of the abuses of which her husband justly complained; but the over-exertion at such times acting upon a system weakened by long spells of inertness, produced pain and actual suffering, that formed for her an adınirable excuse for "letting things go." Her children, dirty and ragged, left entirely to the care of servants, were fast becoming vicious. With a heavy heart, I watched my cousin's course. His love of order outraged, his paternal feelings violated, his complaints met with threats or murmurings, he was becoming desperate. Mary's favorite weapon was a fainting fit, and a gloomy appeal to his feelings.

"I cannot live long; and when I am gone you will regret such cruelty," she would sigh, if he remonstrated; and then a flood of tears, or a faint, would bring his kind heart to penitence and a promise to try to "get along."

Another trial was the dear intimate friend of the invalid, a Miss Elvira Jenkins, who revenged herself for the bad taste that left her a lonely maiden, by violent abuse of the whole male sex. Upon Mary she lavished her pity and sympathy, and did not spare her tongue in opinions of Larry's hard-hearted cruelty in expecting this suffering angel to exert herself. My cousin and myself were both convinced that if Miss Elvira were once removed Mary's better sense and feelings might prompt her to a reformation. At last, a plan suggested itself to me, and I, in solemn confidence imparted it to Larry.

“Lizzie,” he cried, aghast, “it is too cruel!" "Harsh medicine must be used, when mild ones fail," I said, resolutely.

"Coffee all cold, and weak as water," he said, in a sulky way, without any of his customary kind words for his wife.

"Shall I make you a cup of coffee?" I asked. "No," he answered, roughly; "you were not invited here to wait on me. If the house were properly managed, there would be coffee fit to drink served on the table."

"O dear!" whined Mary, "I am sure the servants do as well as can be expected, left so much to themselves."

66 They need not be left to themselves."

'Oh, Larry, this eternal song is killing me. You complain all the time. I'm sure it is not my fault that I am a poor, suffering invalid”. here she began to grow pathetic; "I wish I was a hearty, strong woman like Lizzie, and could make you comfortable. I'm sure I love you too much to have you uncomfortable if I was able to prevent it." Here Larry would have softened, but I looked daggers at him.

Bear it for a little while, Lawrence; I am sure it will not be long before I die-I am so delicate"-this was between sobs-" and these scenes-wear on my constitution-you will soon be rid of me-and then-when your harshness has driven me-to the grave-you will repent of it -but-I-forgive you”—and then the hysterics came in.

Larry waited patiently till she was quiet again, and then, with a perfection of acting that would have made his fortune on the stage, he stepped coolly to the mirror and began to brush his hair.

Mary," he said, quietly, not turning his head, "do you really think you will die soon?" With utter amazement at the matter-of-fact tone, Mary said, "Yes!"

"Well, so you've said a number of times, and I've been thinking it over lately. I think, after you are gone, allowing of course a decent time for mourning, that it will be my duty to the children to marry again.'

"What!" The word came from the bed with the force of a pistol shot.

"You see I am still young and good-looking, and I shall try to select a healthy, active partner, who will make my house a home, and be truly a mother to the children. A woman who loves me will of course take pride in my home and family, and I can, I know, make her happy. There is a fund of love in my heart for the woman who really loves me."

Poor Mary was sitting up, with straining eyes and pale face. "Lawrence!" she gasped. Then with a sickening fear that her husband's VOL. LXVI.-37

long tried affections had in reality strayed from her, she said, "Who ?"

"Well, I was thinking," he said, "of Miss Elvira Jenkius. She is accustomed to the children, and knows my ways, and if you could exert yourself, Mary, and show her round the house a little”—

He was interrupted by a well aimed pillow flying straight at his head. Mary was crimson with fury. Bottles, spoons, glasses followed the pillow!

"So! that's what she comes here for, is it? To make love to the most cruel, falsehearted man that ever lived! You've made all your arrangements, have you?"-here a bottle of lavender water smashed the mirror. "You 'd be very glad to have me die and leave her a clear field❞—a tablespoon took Larry in one eye-"but I won't! I won't! I won't!" The last word was a scream, and Mary, utterly exhausted, fell back, this time in a real fainting fit. Lawrence, all penitence, would have ruined all by staying to coax her back to amiability, but I drove him from the house. My patient recovered with a flood of tears. Gravely yet kindly I tried to make her realize the full error of her life, and, softened by the horrible fear that she was really losing the love of her kind, indulgent husband, she made many vows of amendment.

It was a long day's work we did, and when Lawrence came home his eyes fairly shone with pleasure. The well-spread tea-table was covered with nicely arranged dishes, a spotless cloth, and clear glass, silver, and china. His two little girls, in simple but neat dresses, were in the room, but his eyes rested on his wife.

Flushed by exercise and agitation, Mary's cheeks and eyes were bright as of old. She wore a light blue dress, with snowy collar and sleeves, and her soft blonde hair was arranged in wide becoming braids. With a quiet grace, though her hand trembled with excitement, she presided over the table, and led the conversation to indifferent subjects. The evening was spent in the long unoccupied parlor, where the piano did good service in giving fingers the power to take the place of talk. It was not till after the children had retired that Mary went up to her husband. He was standing by the fireplace looking at her with fond eyes. She stole into his arms, whispering, "Forgive me, Larry!”

"My wife! My own dear Mary !"

I crept away with eyes full of tears.
Two years later, I visited them again. A