Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,
And stand astonished like to those which red
Medusa's mazeful head.

There dwells sweet Love, and constant Chastity,
Unspotted Faith, and comely Womanhood
Regard of Honor, and mild Modesty !

There Virtue reigns as queen on royal throne,
And giveth laws alone,

The which the base affections do obey,
And yield their services unto her will;
No thought of things uncomely ever may
Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill.
Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures,
And unrevealed pleasures,

Then would ye wonder and her praises sing,

That all the woods should answer, and your echo
ring.

Open the temple gates unto my love,
Open them wide that she may enter in,
And all the posts adorn as doth behove,
And all the pillars deck with garlands trim
For to receive this saint with honor due,
That cometh into you.

With trembling steps, and humble reverence
She cometh in before the Almighty's view:
Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience,
When so ye come into those holy places,
To humble your proud faces :

Bring her up to the high altar, that she may

The sacred ceremonies there partake,
The which do endless matrimony make:
And let the roaring organs loudly play
The praises of the Lord in lively notes:
The whiles, with hollow throats,

The choristers the joyous anthem sing,
That all the woods may answer, and their echo
ring.

Behold, while she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks,
And blesseth her with his two happy hands
How the red roses flush up in her cheeks,
And the pure snow with goodly vermeil stain.
Like crimson dyed in grain;

That even the angels, which continually
About the sacred altar do remain,
Forget their service and about her fly,

Oft peeping in her face that seems more fair
The more they on it stare.

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Are governed with goodly modesty,
That suffers not a look to glance awry,
Which may let in a little thought unsound.
Why blush you, love, to give to me your hand
The pledge of all our band?

Sing, ye sweet angels, Alleluia sing,

That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

Wedded Life.

-Edmund Spenser.

I

MEN EN and women and especially young people, do not know that it takes years to marry completely two hearts, even of the most loving and well assorted; but nature allows no sudden change. We ascend very gradually from the cradie to the summit of life. Marriage is gradual-a fraction of us at a time. A happy wedlock is a long falling in love. know young persons think that love belongs only to the brown hair, and plump, round, crimson cheeks. So it does for its beginning. But the golden marriage is a part of love which the bridal day knows nothing of. Youth is the tassel and silken flower of love; age is the

full corn, ripe and solid in the ear.

crimson, violet, purple, and gold, with its hopes of days that are to come.
the evening of love with its glad remembrances and its rainbow side turned toward heaven
such a marriage is commonly a good match. They do it instinctively. The young man does
as well as earth. Young people marry their opposites in temper and general character, and
not say, "My black eyes require to be wed with blue, and my over-vehemence requires to be
a little modified with somewhat of dullness and reserve." When those opposites come
together to be wed, they do not know it; each thinks the other just like itself.

Beautiful is the morning of love, with its prophetic
Beautiful also is

Old people never marry their opposites; they marry their similars, and from calculation. Each of these two arrangements is very proper. In their journey, these two young opposites will fall out by the way a great many times, and both get out of the road; but each will charm the other back again, and by and by they will be agreed as to the place they will go to and the road they will go by, and become reconciled. The man will be nobler and larger for being associated with so much humanity unlike himself, and she will be a nobler woman for having manhood beside her that seeks to correct her deficiencies and supply her with what she lacks, if the diversity be not too great, and there be real piety and love in their hearts to begin with. The old bridegroom, having a much shorter journey to make, must associate himself with one like himself. A perfect and complete marriage is perhaps as rare as perfect personal beauty. Such large and sweet fruit is a.complete marriage that it needs a very long summer to ripen in, and then a long winter to mellow it. But a happy marriage of love and judgment, between a noble man and woman, is one of the things so very handsome, that if the sun were, as the Greek poets fabled, a god, he might stop the world in order to feast his eyes on such a spectacle.

The Day Returns, My Bosom Burns.

HE day returns, my bosom burns,

TH

The blissful day we twa did meet ;
Though winter wild in tempest toiled,

Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet
Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o'er the sultry line,—
Than kingly robes and crowns and globes,
Heaven gave me more; it made thee mine.

While day and night can bring delight,

Or nature aught of pleasure give,-
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee and thee alone I live;
When that grim foe of life below

Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss,-it breaks my heart.
-Robert Burns.

γου

A Wife's Appeal to Her Husband.

took me, Henry, when a girl, into your home
and heart,

To bear in all your after-fate a fond and faithful part;
And tell me, have I ever tried that duty to forego,

Or pined there was not joy for me when you were
sunk in woe?

No, I would rather share your grief than other people's glee;

For though you're nothing to the world, you're all the
world to me.

You make a palace of my shed, this rough-hewn bench
a throne;
[tone.
There's sunlight for me in your smile, and music in your

I look upon you when you sleep-my eyes with tears grow dim:

I cry, "Oh! Parent of the poor look down from heaven on him!

Behold him toil from day to day exhausting strength and soul;

Look down in mercy on him, Lord, for Thou canst make him whole !"

And when at last relieving sleep has on my eye-lids
smiled,

How oft are they forbid to close in slumber by my child!
I take the little murmurer that spoils my span of rest,
And feel it is a part of thee I hold upon my breast.

There's only one return I crave-I may not need it long

And it may soothe thee when I'm where the wretched
feel no wrong.

I ask not for a kinder tone, for thou wert ever kind;
I ask not for less frugal fare-my fare I do not mind.
I ask not for more gay attire-if such as I have got
Suffice to make me fair to thee, for more I murmur not;
But I would ask some share of hours that you in toil
bestow;

Of knowledge, that you prize so much, may I not some-
thing know?

Subtract from meetings among men each eve an hour
for me;

Make me companion for your soul as I may surely be;
If you will read, I'll sit and work; then think, when
you're away,
[stay.
Less tedious I shall find the time, dear Henry, of your

A meet companion soon I'll be for e'en your studious
hours,
[flowers;
And teacher of those little ones you call your cottage
And if we be not rich and great, we may be wise and
kind,
[your mind.
And as my heart can warm your heart, so may my mind

The True Wife.

OFTENTIMES I have seen a tall ship glide by against the tide as if drawn by some in

visible bowline, with a hundred strong arms pulling it. Her sails unfilled, her streamers were drooping, she had neither side wheel nor stern wheel; still she moved on stately, in serene triumph, as with her own life. But I knew that on the other side of the ship, hidden beneath the great bulk that swam so majestically, there was a little toilsome steam tug, with a heart of fire and arms of iron, that was tugging it bravely on, and I knew that if the little steam tug untwined her arm and left the ship it would wallow and roll about and drift hither and thither, and go off with the refluent tide, no man knows whither. And so I have known more than one genius, high decked, full freighted, idle-sailed, gay-pennoned, but that for the bare toiling arms, and brave, warm-beating heart of the faithful little wife that nestles close to him, so that no wind or wave could part them, would have gone down with the stream and have been heard of no more.

EV

A Caution.

V'N in the happiest choice, where favoring
Heaven

Has equal love and easy fortune given,

Think not, the husband gained, that all is done:
The prize of happiness must still be won:
And oft the careless find it to their cost,
The lover in the husband may be lost;
The graces alone his heart allure;

They, and the virtues meeting must secure.

Let ev'n your prudence wear the pleasing dress
Of care for him, and anxious tenderness.
From kind concern about his weal or woe,
Let each domestic duty seem to flow.
Endearing still the common acts of life,
The mistress still shall charm him in the wife;
And wrinkled face shall unobserved come on,
Before his eye perceives one beauty gone.
-Lord George Lyttleton.

IF

at once.

Tell Your Wife.

you are in any trouble or quandary, tell your wife—that is, if you have one-all about it Ten to one her invention will solve your difficulty sooner than all your logic. The wit of women has been praised, but her instincts are quicker and keener than her reason. Counsel with your wife, or mother or sister, and be assured, light will flash upon your darkness. Women are too commonly adjudged as verdant in all but purely womanish affairs. No philosophical students of the sex thus judge them. Their intuitions, or insights, are the most subtle. In counseling a man to tell his wife, we would go farther, and advise him to keep none of his affairs a secret from her. Many a home has been happily saved, and many a fortune retrieved, by a man's full confidence in his "better half." Woman is far more a seer and prophet than man, if she be given a fair chance. As a general rule, wives confide the minutest of their plans and thoughts to their husbands, having no involvements to screen from them. Why not reciprocate, if but for the pleasure of meeting confidence with confi

dence>

NIN

To My Wife.

[On the Ninth Anniversary of our Marriage.]

[INE years ago you came to me,
And nestled on my breast,

A soft and winged mystery,
That settled here to rest;

And my heart rocked its Babe of bliss,
And soothed its Child of air,
With something 'twixt a song and kiss,
To keep it nestling there.

At first I thought the fairy form
Too spirit-soft and good

To fill my poor, low nest with warm

And wifely womanhood
But such a cosy peep of home
Did your dear eyes unfold;
And their deep and dewy gloom,
What tales of love were told!

We cannot boast to have bickered not,
Since you and I were wed:

We have not lived the smoothest lot,
Nor found the downiest bed!
Time hath not passed o'erhead in stars,
And under foot in flowers,