hope these considerations will plead my excuse. It is, madam, my desire to be informed whether you govern your husband or he rules you." "Indeed, sir," replied the lady, "this question is somewhat odd; but as I think no one ought to be ashamed of doing their duty, I shall make no scruple to say that I am always proud to obey my husband in all things; but if a woman's own word is to be suspected in such a case let him answer for me, for here he comes."

The gentleman at that time entered the room, and after being made acquainted with the business confirmed every word his obedient wife had reported in her own favour, upon which he was requested to choose which horse in the team he liked best, and to accept of it as a present.

A black gelding struck the fancy of the gentleman most, but the lady desired he should choose the grey mare, which she thought would be very fit for her side-saddle. Her husband gave substantial reasons why the black horse would be most useful to them, but madam still persisted in her claim to the grey mare. "What," said she," and will you not take her, then? But I say you shall, for I am sure the grey mare is much the better horse." Well, my dear,"

"You must

replied the husband, "if it must be sotake an egg," said the visitor," and I must take all my horses back again, and endeavour to live happy with my wife."

It was clear that this was the wisest thing he could do, for you may depend upon it there is a world of wisdom in those words, "I must endeavour to live happy." member what Burns says:

"It's not in titles nor in rank;

It's not in wealth like London bank,

To purchase peace and rest;

It's not in makin' muckle mair;

It's not in books; it's not in lear,

To make us truly blest:

If happiness have not her seat
And centre in the breast,

We may be wise or rich or great,
But never can be blest."

Re

Or as another, equally true, adds:

"True happiness is to no spot confined;

If you preserve a firm and constant mind,
'Tis here, 'tis everywhere."

Yes, this should be the leading purpose of all who are "married and settled." If only half the effort spent in vain attempts to reign over each other, was made to love each other, it would soon lead to a change for the better. Try and see what you can do in this direction, and you will find it to your advantage in every way.

What a difference there is in a home where a wife is equal to her daily duties-where there is "method" and "management" in the ways of the house-everything in its place, and everything done at the proper time and in the proper way! It is a precious gift for a woman to be able thus to see well to the ways of her house and to watch carefully that nothing is wasted, but that everything, small and great, is turned to the best account. How many nice little dishes can be made out of scraps which careless people throw away! How many odds and ends can be turned into attractiveness with natty fingers and tasty ways! How much better it is than to see litter and carelessness manifest the moment you enter the room! Strive to cultivate neatness, order, and beauty. Resist with all your energy everything which is slovenly, disorderly, and ugly. You will be astonished what a contrast it will produce, and what an amount of pleasure it will give, not only to yourself but to all who come under your roof. Let the poet Crabbe's picture of what a home ought to be stimulate you to an endeavour to make yours appear

"Like a thing of the desert, alone in its glee,

I make a small home seem an empire to me;
Like a bird in the forest, whose world is its nest,
My home is my all, and the centre of rest.
Let Ambition stretch over the world at a stride,
Let the restless go rolling away with the tide,

"I look on life's pleasures as follies at best,
And, like sunset, feel calm when I'm going to rest.
I sit by the fire, in the dark winter's night,

While the cat cleans her face with her foot in delight,
And the winds all a-cold with rude clatter and din
Shake the windows, like robbers who want to come in,
Or else from the cold to be hid away.

By the bright burning fire see my children at play,
Making houses of cards or a coach of a chair,

While I sit enjoying their happiness there."

Your husband, as he returns from a day's toil, will feel how sweet it is to realise that, as the home is coming nearer and nearer to his weary feet, it will soon become bright and cheerful, for will he not say as he enters

"Day is past, and toil is done,

Night now comes, sweet solace bringing;
So with thanks for blessings won,

Homeward I return with singing.

"Well I know what dear delight
(With the thought my heart is thrilling)
Waits me each succeeding night
In my comfortable dwelling.

"Welcome there with her sweet face,
'Tis my wife, all gladly smiling,

Gives to me the chiefest place,

With her love my soul beguiling.

"Round about me laughing wild,
Running, shouting, leaping, pressing,

Comes each dear, delighted child
For their father's warm caressing.

"Ha! my darlings, how d'ye do?
Once more kiss and let me kiss ye;

How should I your absence rue
Did I at this moment miss ye!

"Toil for day and rest for night,
Yet hath night the greater measure,

Since with night comes dear delight
Love, and innocence, and pleasure."

T has been truly said that there is no word which is so full of thrilling and intense meaning as HOME.

Although it only contains four letters, poets, preachers, painters, and orators have never yet been able to exhaust its suggestiveness, or describe completely its beauty. "I might ask what is it that makes a home?" says

Dr. J. Hamilton. "And you would answer a mother's love. You know what it would be to spend one of your winter evenings in a chamber without a fire on the hearth, or a carpet on the floor; even though the furniture were costly and the friends congenial, nothing could impart the lacking comfort or diffuse the wonted radiance. And, in this wintry world, a tender mother's love, and a pious mother's care, are the carpet on the floor, and the blaze on the evening hearth. They make the home, and to the latest moment they mingle in every picture of pre-eminent happiness." Hence we may say―

"Better than gold is a peaceful home,

Where all the fireside charities come;
The shrine of love and the heaven of life,
Hallow'd by mother, or sister, or wife.
However humble the home may be,

Or tried with sorrows by Heaven's decree,

The blessings that never were bought or sold,
And centre there, are better than gold."

Among the most sacred thoughts we love to cherish is that of Home. It is related that one evening when an army of brave soldiers were sitting around Sebastopol, waiting and watching amid its dangers, they heard a company of musicians playing, "Home, sweet Home." Such was the magic power even this familiar tune had upon them, that they, strong and valiant men as they were, broke out into sobs and weeping, so great was their desire for the peace and rest of their home. Oh, it is a healthy sign when man has such a feeling of home-sickness come over him. It speaks well for him and his home. It speaks also for the sailors who

can say:

"When o'er the silent deep we rove

More fondly then our thoughts will stray
To those we leave, to those we love,
Whose prayers pursue our wat'ry way.
When in the lonely midnight hour

The sailor takes his watchful stand,
His heart then feels the holiest power

Of love, and home, and native land."