to yourself. Let us then use the reason that has been given us, and act from its dictates, in perfect freedom from all selfishness or pride, or false views of our relations in life. If you seek my happiness, do it in this way, for in this way alone can you secure it.”

Hartley could not withstand the force of truth from the lips of so eloquent a reasoner. Three weeks more elapsed. At the end of that time a snug little house in the district of Spring Garden held the young couple. Were they less happy? No! Hartley's salary was ample, and he felt that he was still independent, and that his wife had every comfort she desired. Their house was no loss tastefully arranged than the one they had left. It was only smaller. But what of that? They had room enough and to spare.

"Is it not much better to be here," Anna said, as they sat together one evening in their little parlour, before a cheerful grate, than for me to be alone in a larger house, and you away soiling, wearils, beyond your strength, to get the means of keeping up appearances I am sure it is.”

*Yes, Anna, it is better!" Bartley replied.

were no hannier before than we are now."

Suppose we had rented the house in Walnut Street," Annn said, with an arch look.

* Fliss). !* and Butler put his fingers on the lins of his wife, playfully, **Don't remind me of my weakness. I. von had been a womat, at all ite Mrs Riston, how quickly you might hæve ruined me !”

*. And, made rot, and myself both unhappy for life. I am not like hey. James."

"No; thank Heaven! You are like nobody but your own dear self! You are a wise and prudent woman, and a loving wife."

"I can bear to hear my praises spoken by your lips," Anna returned, leaning her head back upon the breast of her husband, and looking up into his face with a fond, happy smile.

"It comes from the heart-be sure of that."

"And reaches the heart ere the words are half-uttered," was the blushing reply.

THREE months more elapsed, when an event, looked for with hope and trembling anxiety, transpired. A new chord vibrated in Anna's heart, and the music was sweeter far in her spirit's ear, than any before heard. She was changed. Suddenly she felt that she was a new creature. Her breast was filled with deeper, purer, and tenderer emotions. She was a mother! A babe had been born to her! A sweet pledge of love lay nestling by her side, and drawing its life from her bosom. was happy-how happy cannot be told. A mother only can feel how happy she was on first realizing the new emotions that thrill in a young mother's heart.

She

As health gradually returned to her exhausted frame, and friends gathered around her with warm congratulations, Anna felt that she was indeed beginning a new life. Every hour her soul seemed to enlarge, and her mind to be filled with higher and purer thoughts. Be

L

fore the birth of her babe, she suffered much more than even her husband had supposed, both in body and mind. Her spirits were often so depressed, that it required her utmost effort to receive him with her accustomed cheerfulness, at each period of his loved return. But living

as she did in the ever active endeavour to bless others, she strove daily and hourly to rise above every infirmity. Now all was peace within-holy peace. There came a

Sabbath rest of deep, interior joy, that was sweet, unutterably sweet. Body and spirit entered into this rest. No wind ruffled the still, bright waters of her life.

Hartley had loved his wife truly, deeply, tenderly. Every day he saw more and more in her to admire. There was an order, consistency, and harmony in her character as a wife, that won his admiration. In the few months they had passed since their marriage, she had filled her place to him perfectly. Without seeming to reflect how she should regulate her conduct towards her husband, in every act of her wedded life she had displayed true wisdom, united with unvarying love. All this caused his heart to unite itself more and more closely with hers. But now that she held to him the twofold relation of a wife and mother, his love was increased fourfold. He thought of her, and looked upon her, with increased tenderness.

"Mine by a double tie," he said, with a full realization of his words, when he first pressed his lips upon the brow of his child, and then, with a fervour unfelt before, upon the lips of his wife. "As you have been a good wife, you will be a good mother," he added, with emo

tion.

Hereafter we must know Mrs Hartley in the twofold character of wife and mother, for they are inextricably blended. Thus far, scarcely a year has passed since the maiden became the wife. But little presents itself in the first year of a woman's married history of deep interest. Her life is more strongly marked internally than externally. She feels much, but the world sees little, and little can be brought forth to view. The little that we could present in the history of our gentle, true-hearted friend, with some strong contrasts, has been presented. Enough is apparent, we hope, to enable us to say to the young wife, "Go thou and do likewise." Enough to make all feel the loveliness of her example.

The change in her husband's external condition was good for them both. It tried their characters in the beginning, and, more than any thing else that had occurred, made Hartley sensible of the real worth of a prudent and self-denying wife. Although months had elapsed since he was suddenly thrown down from a position so full of promise, into one comparatively discouraging to a man of an active, ambitious spirit, he still remained a clerk, with no prospect of rising above that condition. Had his wife seemed in the least degree to feel this change, it would have chafed him sorely. He would have been unhappy; but she was so cheerful and contented, and made every thing so comfortable, and regulated her household expenses without appearing to think about doing so, according to her husband's reduced income, that he was rarely ever more than half-conscious while at home, that he was not in the receipt of over one-third of his former income,

If we were to lift for the reader, a moment or two, the veil that hides Mr Riston and his wife from the public eye, a very different picture from this would be seen. But we care not to do so. The sayings and doings of Mrs R. have already filled more than a fair proportion of our pages. Their moral needs no further expositions to give them force.