Oh, those Dreams are God's revealings; never heed, Be thou worthy the fulfilment of Youth's soulwhat worldlings say, With their tongues by falsehood blistered-rearing up their gods of clay : Sweep them down from hearth and pedestal, as with a tempest blast; Mission worthy of the worthiest to be this iconoclast! For though great and good the Age is, when compared with former years, An unsightly dwarf it fostereth, whose strength but half appears; Dark, deformed the little imp is, though too vague to have a name, sustaining Dreams, And that Worthiness shall keep thee still beneath their gorgeous beams: Life shall pass thee like a river, stranding treasures And the season of existence be for thee perpetual Age for thee shall have no meaning, save the silvering of the hair, And the furrow on the forehead and the body's signs of wear; Which but seem the preparations for unfolding of the wings Unless, indeed, a myriad the Proteus thing may That have grown to strength and beauty by thy claim. spirit's communings. THE YOUNG WIFE. BY ELIZABETH YOUATT. "Man for the field, and woman for the hearth: Man for the sword, and for the needle she : ALFRED TENNYSON. "Happiness is a roadside flower, growing on the highways of Usefulness." "Proverbial Philosophy." Herbert Brownlow was for many years the sole support of his widowed mother and sisters. He was a dutiful son and an affectionate brother, and every one spoke well of him. After a time his mother died, and one of the sisters married and went to India, while the other two continued to reside with their brother, and kept his house. I do not know how it was, but no one ever dreamt of Herbert's marrying, and his sisters least of all. He was so fastidious, they said, and so fond of them; and in their hearts they really did not believe that there was any one in the world good enough for him. Herbert was not strong: he often returned from his office looking pale and worn, and too exhausted even to eat, or do anything but lie on the sofa, and sometimes read aloud to his sisters while they worked. Change of air was recommended, and he reluctantly gave himself a week's holiday, and went into Dorsetshire to visit an old schoolfellow. His sisters were naturally exceedingly anxious about him; and when the one week was extended into four, and he still wrote and told them how wonderfully well and how happy he was, they were too glad and too unselfish to say how much they missed him and longed for his return. The cause of his prolonged absence was shortly explained, together with his approaching marriage with the sister of his old friend. The necessity of a speedy return to his office, and his unwillingness to leave his dear Alice behind him, hastened the nuptials, which were to be performed in Dorsetshire, previous to her leaving the home of her childhood for ever. "Her coming," he wrote to his sisters, "will make no difference, except in saving you the trouble of house-keeping. You must love her, as she is prepared to love you, for my sake; you will soon learn to do so for her own. Ah! who could help loving Alice?" The sisters laid down the letter, looked at one another, and burst into tears. A congratulatory reply was nevertheless duly forwarded, and the necessary preparations commenced for the reception of the bride. It certainly was not a labour of love. Lucy Brownlow brought the easy chair from her own room to place it in that of her new sister-in-law. Being the youngest, and somewhat delicate, she had been much indulged; but she felt that she must now give place to Alice. Many a little article of luxury was thus sacrificed to furnish out the bridal chamber, but they were given grudgingly; and its cheerful, and even elegant appearance when completed, afforded them no pleasure. "I never thought that Herbert would have married," said Lucy, "and least of all that he would have married thus. Indeed I never thought about it. It seems like a dream. I wish he had not gone into Dorsetshire." "So do I; but it cannot be helped now, and we must try and make the best of it. I suppose we ought to be very grateful to Alice for letting us remain. It is not every young wife who would like two grown up sisters in the house." "She only consented, I dare say, in order to please Herbert." "Very likely; and we must try and please him too, sister, by our behaviour to her." "As she has no money," said Lucy, "I suppose she must be very beautiful. Herbert was always an admirer of beauty." 66 Alice, I think, must have 'something than beauty dearer,' to have won our brother's heart," replied Charlotte; and she was right. It was a bright spring day when Herbert Brownlow brought home his new wife. Like most men upon such occasions, he was at first a little awkward and embarrassed, and his sisters did nothing to help him. Alice alone remained calm and self-possessed, and was "at home," to use that very expressive phrase, in a moment. That evening, as Charlotte presided at the tea-table for the last time, and the young bride sat opposite in the full glare of the lamp, the sisters perceived that she was neither beautiful nor even what is termed pretty. This being the case, we will endeavour to show how it was that Alice won the heart of her husband; after all, it is but a common and every-day story. The winter was waning into spring when friend that his sister took great interest in him, and was always talking about him; and that she did not believe he was so very ill, but overworked, and that he wanted more exercise, and some one to look after him and cheer him up a little. Now it was very natural for Alice to say this to her brother, and very natural and man-like in him to repeat it again: brothers are sad blunderers! Ten to one he would have excused himself by observing " that it was the truth, and where was the harm of repeating it?” “No great harm, certainly-and yet-and yet❞—but there, he would never have understood her ob them. It was on Shrove Tuesday that Herbert first began to notice Alice Dennison. He had been out with his friend all the morning. Among other places they had visited a poor family in great distress; and Robert, being anxious to consult his sister as to what was best to be done for them, begged that Herbert would go injections any more than she could have explained search of her while he wrote a letter. Herbert heard Alice's voice as he closed the study door, and hastened to follow its sound. Now it happened, as is the case in a great many country houses, that the kitchen was on the same floor with the study and dining room, from which it was separated by a long passage, leading to various store-closets, and terminating in the kit- | chen and dairy. By the time that Herbert reached the former the voice which had guided him was hushed; but he pushed it open nevertheless, and beheld Alice Dennison, with a clean white apron tied over her neat morning dress, in the act of tossing a pancake, which she did with great dexterity. Having performed this by no means easy feat, she turned somewhat suddenly, and seeing Herbert behind her, uttered a faint cry and hastily retreated a few steps. Herbert apologized for having frightened her, and delivered her brother's message; during which Alice stood before him with crimson cheeks and down-cast eyes. At that moment she certainly looked anything but plain, and so Herbert thought as he purposely prolonged the interview by asking her why she had screamed, and whether she had taken him for a spirit. Had Alice confessed the truth she would have answered Yes to the latter question, but she remained silent and embarrassed. It was the first and last spell she ever tried. There were pancakes for dinner, of course. Herbert thought them the most delicious he had ever eaten; and when he said so, Alice blushed again almost as deeply as before. Most women look well when they blush. Although she is my own sister," observed Robert, "I must say that Alice is an excellent cook. I never eat such pastry anywhere else as I do at home. Leigh Hunt says, Your piecrust is a great caster of shadows over human life; and I believe so, especially when badly made. But do you know that if Alice had the management of you, you would have no pastry at all she does not think it good for you." "Oh, Robert!" interrupted his sister. That night Herbert was silent and thoughtful, and did nothing but watch Alice as she sat quietly at her work, by which means he discovered that she had long eye-lashes and white hands. He felt grateful to her for thinking of him. She was right, he did want some one to “look after him and cheer him up." He forgot his sisters; he wanted a wife—a quiet, loving, useful little wife. He began to agree with Jean Paul Richter, when he exclaims-"Oh that I could find a gentle girl who could cook something for me; and who would sometimes smile, and sometimes weep with me." "All men," writes Mrs. Abdy, "cannot value mental abilities, or brilliant accomplishments"-we are not sure that Herbert Brownlow could-" but every man knows how to appreciate the advantages of an exquisitely cooked dinner.” Let romance lovers say what they will, eating and drinking constitute one of the pleasures of domestic life, and by no means the least influential. It even mingles with our reminiscences of the beloved. A poet, speaking of the days that were gone, and of her who had made them so full of sunshine, says "How well I remember those old times! How happy we were! How we danced on the green turf in the summer evenings, or sang in turns-Lily's voice being ever the sweetest. Or gathered flowers in the woods, and wove them garlands. And then, on our return, how we enjoyed our bread and Lily's apricot-jam. Shall I ever forget that apricotjam? I have never tasted any since, that was half so good." An old writer quaintly observes, and not without truth, "that there are a great many ways to a man's heart, but the surest is down his throat!" When Herbert asked Alice Dennison to be his wife, she was too truthful to hesitate or to conceal from him how happy the offer made her. Robert rejoiced with them. It was the very thing he would have wished, and the best of which he would have dreamt. He had always loved and looked up to Herbert, and it may be that his praises had prepared Alice to love him also. Herbert Brownlow did not marry for beauty, and yet he always thought Alice beautiful-so true it is that the heart creates its own loveliness. He would soon have forgotten to notice her white hands if he had not found out that they were the busiest, most useful little hands in all the world, or to admire her long eye-lashes, if the eyes beneath had not met his with such trustful affection. As it was, he was very proud of her, and well he might be. clerks, however, shook their heads upon the occasion, and hinted their fears that Herbert's salary would prove insufficient to support such extravagance. "It is all very fine, my dear friend," said one old gentleman, kindly. "I must confess I never saw a supper table better arranged, or more amply covered in my life; but it won't do, Brownlow, you will be ruined!" "If I were to tell you what it all cost,” replied Herbert, with a smile, "I think you would be astonished." Herbert, as we have before said, was a kind and indulgent brother; and as he had to be at his office in the morning earlier than his sisters cared to rise, the servant girl generally prepared his breakfast for him after a fashion peculiar to that class of society. But Herbert was not particular at least he used to say so until he married, and Alice spoiled him. Such breakfasts "Very likely," said his companion; "the as he had then! hot coffee-unburned toast-artificial flowers alone would be no trifle; not eggs fit to be eaten, or bacon "done to a turn," to mention Mrs. Brownlow's dress, which my and time enough to sit and laugh and chat over wife says was the most elegant in the room. it, and even to take a stroll in the garden before Not that we have any right to interfere; only, he started. It may appear trifling to record all having known you from a boy, I cannot help this, but it is of such trifles that human life and feeling interested and anxious about you." health and happiness are made up. "You are very kind," replied Herbert. was admired, as she took some pains to turn it for the occasion: it was her wedding dress. She also cut the artificial flowers out of coloured paper; and not only arranged the supper table, but made every single dish upon it, and all at so trifling an expense that I trust it will not be the last time that I shall be able to invite my friends to celebrate so happy an anniversary." "My dear Brownlow," exclaimed his old friend, holding out his hand, "your little wife must be a perfect treasure!" As Herbert had said, it was impossible to help" Alice will be pleased to hear that her old dress loving Alice; she was so gentle, and withal so cheerful-so forgetful of self, and mindful of every one else. Charlotte compared her to a sunbeam! Even Lucy wished to resemble her, and owned that she was worthy to be her brother's wife, which was the highest compliment she could pay her, and so Alice thought. The easy chair, of which mention has been made, went back to Lucy's room, because, as Mrs. Brownlow said, she was delicate and required it most. Being delicate, Lucy came in for her share of nursing; and whether it was the nice jellies which her sister-in-law made for her, or the long country walks which she persuaded her into taking, we know not, but the next account we heard of Lucy was that she was quite well, and about to be married. Charlotte never married. Some said that she had met with a disappointment, which others explained to mean the disappointment of not being asked. Anyhow, her cheerful, quiet, and blameless life evidenced the possibility of being happy even without that desideratum to female existence-a husband! An every-day fact, which no one quite believes; so it is of little use dwelling upon it. At the commencement of our history Herbert Brownlow was, as we have said, out of healthover-worked and appearing far older than he really was. When he first met Alice he looked pale and feeble, and his dark hair was streaked with grey. Now, when he should be two or three years older, he seemed at least ten younger. His step was firm and active-his eyes bright-his face had lost its sallow hue, and bore instead the glow of health and exercise. He smiled to himself as he walked through the streets, and might have been known by the flower in his button-hole, so long as "garden flowers were to be had. He is a changed man. Some people say that his little wife spoils himas if any one ever was spoiled by kindness. On the third anniversary of their wedding day the Brownlows gave an evening party to as many as their small rooms would hold, which passed off admirably. Some of the senior "She is indeed," replied Herbert, with simple earnestness. And as he walked home he thought humbly within himself, "What have I done to deserve to be so happy?" Herbert made a great many good resolutions that night, and pondered over various philanthropic schemes by means of which he might make others happy also. What music there is in the word home! Alas! for those who have never heard it, or to whom it recalls notes of discord rather than harmony. Alas! for those from whom its melody has passed away for ever! Herbert found his slippers ready, and the armchair wheeled up before the blazing fire, and vacant for his reception. Alice sprang forward to welcome him with that loving smile which made her appear so beautiful in his eyes. She passed her hand over his coat-sleeve, and finding it damp, for a drizzling rain was beginning to fall, playfully refused to give him any tea until he had changed it; Charlotte, for once taking part against her brother, and declaring that she was quite right. Herbert, like most men, persisted that the damp was a mere trifle, and could not hurt any one; but Alice, like most women, knew better, and succeeded in getting her own way; after which he threw himself into his easy chair, and because he had been working hard all day, and must needs be tired, was waited upon by his wife and sister-which was only natural and right. The rain came on, and beat against the window pane. It was one of those wild nights which force us, as it were, into thankfulness for home comforts. Herbert Brownlow opened his heart to his wife. He spoke of his good resolutionsof his undeserved happiness-and of his gratitude to Heaven; and Alice encouraged him in the first, entered her loving protest against the second, and shared frequently in the last. "Happier," said Herbert, "we can scarcely be; but I want you to help me to become better and wiser." And Alice did help him with her whole heart. Herbert Brownlow not only became better and wiser, and an active and useful member of society, but he found out, when a twelvemonth afterwards a little baby-boy was added to the home-picture we have been describing, that it was even possible to be happier. THE HOME OF OUR CHILDHOOD. BY GEORGINA C. MUNRO. The Home of our Childhood, And where was that home-spot? Where the gleaming rocks echoed Wound round the stern mountains Or, 'mid the bright waters Where the wooded isle slept On the lake's glowing breast Or, by the wild river In ice fetters bound, With the voice of Niagara Or, where ocean mirrored It mattered not where- The skies were still sunny, The flowers still breathed incense, With its magic light, gilding Of no clime was that spell-word; |