You may suppose I did not feel very comfortable during the afternoon. I had taken my stand, and my intention was to maintain it to the last. That Mr Smith would yield I had no doubt at first. But, as evening approached, and the trial-time drew near, I had some misgivings.

Mr Smith came home early.

"I have

"Mary," said he, in his usual pleasant way, ordered a carriage to be here at half-past seven. We must not leave home later, as it begins at eight." "What begins at eight? Where do you think of going?"

"To hear the lecture, of course. at dinner-time that I had tickets."

This was said very calmly.

I mentioned to you

"And I told you at dinner-time that I was going to the Philharmonic, and not to hear the lecture." I tried to appear as composed as he was, but failed in the attempt altogether.

"You were aware that I had tickets for the lecture, before you said that," was the cold answer he made. "Of course I was.'

The

"Very well, Mary. You can do as you like. carriage will be here at half-past seven. If you are then ready to go with me, I shall be happy to have your company." And my husband, after saying this with a most unruffled manner, politely bowed and retired to the parlour.

I was on fire. But I had no thought of yielding.

At half-past seven I was ready. I heard the carriage drive up to the door and the bell ring.

"Mary," called my husband at the bottom of the stair-case, in a cheerful tone, are you ready?"

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"Ready to go where?" I asked on descending. "To the lecture."

"I am ready for the concert," I answered in as composed a voice as I could assume.

"I am not going to the concert to-night, Mrs Smith. I thought you understood that," firmly replied my husband. "I am going to hear the lecture. If you will go with me, I shall be very happy to have your company; if not, I must go alone."

"And I am going to the Philharmonic. I thought you understood that," I replied, with equal resolution. "Oh! very well," said he, not seeming to be at all disturbed. "Then you can use the carriage at the door ; I will walk to the lecture."

Saying this, Mr Smith turned from me deliberately and walked away. I heard him tell the driver of the carriage to take me to the Music Hall; then I heard the street-door close, and then I heard my husband's footsteps on the pavement as he left the house. Without hesitating a moment for reflection, I followed to the door, entered the carriage, and ordered the man to drive me-where? I had no ticket for the concert; nor could go alone!

I

"To the Music Hall, I believe, madam," he said, standing with his fingers touching the rim of his hat.

I tried to think what I should do. To be conquered was hard. And it was clear that I could not go alone.

"No," I replied, grasping hold of the first suggestion

that came to my mind; "drive me to No. Russell Street."

I had directed him to the house of my sister, where I thought I would stay until after eleven o'clock, and then return home, leaving my husband to infer that I had been to the concert. But long before I had reached my sister's house, I felt so miserable that I deemed it best to call out of the window to the driver, and direct him to return. On arriving at home, some twenty minutes after I had left it, I went up to my chamber, and there had a hearty cry to myself. I do not know that I ever felt so unhappy in my life. I had utterly failed in this vigorous contest with my husband, who had come off perfectly victorious. Many bitter things did I write against him in my heart, and largely did I magnify his faults. I believe I thought over every thing that occurred since we were married, and selected therefrom whatever could justify the conclusion that he was a self-willed, overbearing, unfeeling man, and did not entertain for me a particle of affection.

It was clear that I had not been able to manage my spouse, determined as I had been to correct all his faults, and make him one of the best, most conciliating, and loving of husbands, with whom my wish would be law. Still I could not think of giving up. The thought of wife, who could

being reduced to a tame, submissive hardly call her soul her own, was not for a moment to be entertained. On reflection, it occurred to me that I had probably taken the wrong method with my husband. There was a touch of stubbornness in his nature that had arrayed itself against my too earnest efforts to bend him

to my will. A better way occurred. I had heard it said by some one, or had read it somewhere, that no man was proof against a woman's tears,

On the present occasion I certainly felt much more like crying than laughing, and so it was no difficult matter, I can honestly aver, to appear bathed in tears on my husband's return between eleven and twelve o'clock from the lecture. I cried from vexation as much as from any other feeling.

When Mr Smith came up into the chamber where I lay, I greeted his presence with half-a-dozen running sobs, which he answered by whistling a tune! I continued to sob, and he continued to whistle for the next ten minutes. By that time he was ready to get into bed, which he did quite leisurely, and laid himself down upon his pillow with an expression of satisfaction. Still I sobbed on, thinking that every sighing breath I drew was, in spite of his seeming indifference, a pang to his heart. But from this fond delusion a heavily drawn breath, that was almost a snore, aroused me. I rose up and looked over at the man-he was sound asleep.

A good hearty cry to myself was all the satisfaction I had, and then I went to sleep. On the next morning I met Mr Smith at the breakfast-table with red eyes and a sad countenance. But he did not seem to notice either.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself at the concert last night," said he. "I was delighted with the lecture."

Now this was too much! I will leave it to any reader -any female reader I mean-whether this was not too much. I burst into a flood of tears and immediately

withdrew, leaving my husband to eat his breakfast alone. He sat the usual time, which provoked me exceedingly. If he had jumped up from the table and left the house I would have felt that I had made some impression upon him. But to take things in this calm way! What had I gained? Nothing as far as I could see. After breakfast Mr Smith came up to the chamber, and, seeing my face buried in a pillow, weeping bitterly—I had increased the flow of tears on hearing him ascending the stairs-said in a low voice

"Are you not well, Mary?"

I made no answer, but continued to weep. Mr Smith stood for the space of about a minute, but asked no further question. Then, without uttering a word, he retired from the chamber, and in a little while after I heard him leave the house. I cried now in good earnest. It was plain that my husband had no feeling; that he did not care whether I was pleased or sad. But I determined to give him a fair trial. If I failed in this new way, what was I to do? The thought of becoming the passive slave of a domestic tyrant was dreadful. I felt that I could not live in such a state. When Mr Smith came home at dinner-time I was in my chamber, ready prepared for a gush of tears. As he opened the door I looked up with streaming eyes, and then hid my face in a pillow.

"Mary," said he, with much kindness in his voice, "what ails you? Are you sick?" He laid his hand upon mine as he spoke.

But I did not reply. I meant to punish him well for what he had done as a lesson for the future. I next expected him to draw his arm around me, and be very ten

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