"And such mantel-pieces! I wouldn't be forced to look at them every day for a month if anybody would give me their weight in gold."

“I am sure, Ellen, that I don't see anything sc offensive in them."

"Well, I do then; but come, let us go up into the chambers."

Up they went.

"Just as I supposed it would be. No paper on the walls."

"The landlord will paper the chambers, if we ask him, I am sure."

"He may paper them with gold leaf, if he chooses, but I would not live in his house."

"Why, Ellen! What do you mean?"

"Just what I have said. The fact is, I don't like the house at all, and can't imagine how you could have conceived, for a single moment, the idea of renting it." “I think it a very excellent house."

"You do?"

"Certainly. A very genteel, comfortable house."

"Genteel! Oh, la! Your ideas of gentility and mine differ vastly. I can't live here, Mr Riston. If I must go to housekeeping, I will be the mistress of something that suits my taste much better than this does."

66

Suppose you look for a house yourself. I am willing. If you are not pleased with this one, see if you cannot find another that you like better."

This was gaining one point. Mrs Riston agreed to look out herself. Two days afterwards she said to her husband,

"I think I have met with a house that is just the

thing."

"I am glad to hear it.

"In Arch Street.

"What is the rent?"

Where is it situated ?"

"Only a hundred and fifty pounds. It is a very cheap house for so fine a one."

"A hundred and fifty pounds!" exclaimed Mr Riston, in surprise.

66 Yes, that is the rent."

"But you certainly do not think about our renting a house at that?"

"Why not? It is just the thing; I know you will be delighted with it."

"Not at a hundred and fifty pounds."

"The rent is very reasonable, Mr Riston. You don't know what an elegant house it is."

"No doubt it is elegant enough, my dear, but we can't afford to pay such a rent."

"How much do you pay for your warehouse?"

"I pay a hundred and eighty pounds. But--" "Very well, if you can pay a hundred and eighty pounds for a warehouse, I see no reason why you can't pay a hundred and fifty pounds for a dwelling."

"But a warehouse, Ellen, is a place of business; the rent of which is

"And a dwelling house is a place of residence. Where is the difference, pray?”

"A very great difference. The rent of a warehouse always depends upon the amount of business that can be done--"

"Don't talk all that nonsense to me, Mr Riston. I

don't pretend to understand a word of it. To my mind there is no reason whatever why a man should pay more rent for a warehouse than for a dwelling."

"But look at it for a moment in a coinmon sense

"I don't pretend to know anything about common sense, Mr Riston."

"Really, Ellen, you are the most unreasonable woman I ever met in my life."

"Quite complimentary!

No doubt you think so.

But thank goodness! your opinion of me will never break my heart."

A pause in the coming tempest succeeded this fitful gust.

"You cannot be in earnest about the house you speak of in Arch Street?" at length resumed the husband.

"I cannot afford such a rent, Ellen."

"You don't suppose, for a moment, that I believe that kind of nonsense," retorted the wife.

"I tell you it is true!" Mr Riston spoke with some warmth.

The lady tossed her head incredulously.

"As to paying a hundred and fifty pounds rent for a house, I can assure you at the threshold that the thing is not to be thought of for a moment."

"Well, just as you like. You can go and rent that pigeon-box in N- Street if you please, and keep bachelor's hall. I shall not go into it, nor into any such mean concern. When I go to housekeeping, if go I must, it will be in a decent way."

"Decent! Pray what do you call decent?"

"I call the house in Arch Street a decent house."

Mr Riston was angry and bewildered.

"It is no use for you to think of a house at a hundred and fifty pounds, Ellen," he said. "The thing is out of the question. My circumstances are not such as

to-"

"There, there! now, Mr Riston, I don't want another word about your circumstances! I have heard nothing else I believe since we were married."

"But won't you listen to common sense, woman?" "Woman! Indeed!"

"Wife, then, if that will sound any better to your ear, though a very strange kind of a wife you are, let me tell you!" This remark would have made Mrs Riston very angry if it had been uttered under different circumstances. But her mind was intent upon thwarting her husband, and she knew that she was chafing him severely. Considering his temperament, she was neither surprised nor pained at his words.

For two or three days the contention about the house in Arch Street went on. The husband remained so firm, that Mrs Riston, after several conferences with her friend Mrs Leslie, deemed it best to yield a little on the rent of the house, with the determination of making it up in the furniture. The handsome dwelling in Walnut Street, which Mr Hartley had wished to take, still remained vacant. The rent of this was eighty guineas per annum. With much tact, Mrs Riston directed the thoughts of her husband to this house, and actually induced him, by seeming herself to be resolved on the house in Arch

Street, to propose to rent this one. With apparent great reluctance the lady yielded, finally, her preference for the house in Arch Street.

The contention with his wife about the choice of a dwelling had been such a severe one, that when a new difference of opinion in regard to the style of furnishing it showed itself, Mr Riston retired at once from a combat in which he felt that inglorious defeat awaited him. With a sigh, and a foreboding of evil, he resigned to her the task of selecting the furniture, not, however, until he had expressed a willingness to remain where they were, rather than be subjected to the heavy expense which he saw too plainly housekeeping would involve.

We

"Oh, no, no, was his lady's reply. "This is all of your own seeking. Things have gone too far now. have already taken the house, and my heart is set upon having it fitted up in a delightful way. I am not one of your changeables. When I once set my mind upon doing a thing, I must go to the end."

Nothing was left but quiet submission, or a prolonged contention, the result of which, in the husband's mind, was very doubtful. He weakly chose the former, against all the higher dictates of his reason; thus giving to a self-willed, vain, and unfeeling woman, a new and more dangerous power over him.

CHAPTER IX.-FALSE FRIENDS,

WHILE the result of her contention with her husband was still doubtful, Mrs Riston called upon none of her