"Go to " muttered the man. "Get out of the way! ha-that's good-it will be a long time before I get out of the way, I can promise you. But, drive on-drive on-I'll overtake you-and ride over you all, too, rough-shod, hang me, if I don't. 'The horns of the altar,' as the ministers call it, will prove the horn of a dilemma to you, Mr. Percy Lee, or there was no strength in the horn I swallowed this morning."

The words were said which never may be unsaid; the twain were one-joy to share together— sorrow to bear together-smooth or rough the path, life's journey to travel together. A few words from holy lips--a short transit of the dial's fingers-a blush-perchance a tear-a low response-and heaven or hell, even in this world, was to be their portion.

The bridal party turn from the altar. Through the stained windows-under the grand archespast the fluted pillars, the dim light slants lovingly upon the soft ripples of the young bride's hairupon the fleecy folds of her gossamer vail-upon the sheen of her bridal robe; the little satin shoe peeps in and out from under the lustrous folds, whose every rustle is music to Percy's ear.

Hark! Fanny's lip loses its rose--as she clings, tremblingly, to Percy's arm. A scuffle-curses-shouting-the report of a pistol-then a heavy fall -then a low groan!

"Is he quite dead? Does his pulse beat?"

"Not a flutter," said the policeman, laying the man's head back upon the church steps.

"How did it happen?"

'Well, you see, he was intoxicated like, and 'sisted upon coming in here, to see the wedding, though I told him it was a private 'un. Then he muttered something about jail-birds and the like 'o that intending to insinivate something ag'in me, I s'pose. Well, I took him by the shoulder to carry him to the station-house, and in the scuffle, a loaded pistol he had about him went off; and that's the end of him. His name is in his hat, there. 'John Scraggs.' A ruffianly-looking dog he is, too; the world is none the worse, I fancy, for his being out of it."

As at the birth, so at the bridal, Life and Death passed each other on the threshold; new-born love to its full fruition; the still corpse to its long home.

There are homes in which Love folds his wings contented forever to stay. Such a home had Fanny and Percy.

"The love born of sorrow, like sorrow is true.'

14

MORAL MOLASSES;

OR, TOO SWEET BY HALF.

THE most thorough emetic I know of, is in the shape of "Guide to Young Wives," and kindred books; as if one rule could, by any possibility, apply to all persons; as if every man living did not require different management (bless me, I did not intend to use that torpedo word, but it is out now); as if, when things go wrong, a wife had only to fly up stairs, read a chapter in the "Young Wife's Guide," supposed to be suited to her complaint, and then go down stairs and apply the worthless plaster to the matrimonial sore. Pshaw! as well might a doctor send a peck of pills into a hospital, to be distributed by the hands of the nurse, to any and every male patient brought there, without regard to complaints or constitutional tendencies. I have no patience with such matrimonial nostrums.

"Always meet your husband with a smile." That is one of them. Suppose we put the boot on the other foot, and require the men to come grinning home? no matter how many of their notes may have been protested; no matter how, like Beelzebub, their business partner may have tormented them; no matter how badly elections gowhen they do it, may I be there to see! Nor should they. Passing over the everlasting monotony of that everlasting "Guide Book" smile, let

us consider, brethren (sisters not admitted), what matrimony was intended for. As I look at it, as much to share each other's sorrows, as to share each other's joys; neither of the twain to shoulder wholly the one or the other.

Those of you, breth

ren, who agree with me in this lucid view of the subject, please to signify it by rising.

'Tis a vote.

Well then, do people in moments of perplexity generally grin? Is it not asking too much of female, and a confounded sight too much of male nature, to do it when a man's store burns down, and there is no insurance? or when a misguided and infatuated baby stuffs beans up its nose, while its mamma is putting new cuffs on her husband's coat, hearing Katy say her lesson, and telling the cook about dinner? And when this sorely afflicted couple meet, would it not be best to make a clean breast of their troubles, sympathize together over them, have a nice matrimonial cry on each other's shoulders, and wind up with a first-class kiss?

'Tis a vote.

Well then-to the mischief with your grinning over a volcano ;-erupt, and have done with it! so shall you love each other more for your very sorrows; so shall you avoid hypocrisy and kindred bedevilments, and pull evenly in the matrimonial harness. I speak as unto wise men.

Lastly, brethren, what I particularly admire, is the indirect compliment to your sex, which this ab

surd rule I have quoted implies; the devotion, magnanimity, fortitude, and courage, it gives you fairweather sailors credit for! But what is the use of talking about it? These guide books are mainly written by sentimental old maids; who, had they ever been within kissing distance of a beard, would not so abominably have wasted pen, ink, and paper; or, by some old bachelor, tip-toeing on the outskirts of the promised land, without a single clear idea of its resources and requirements, or courage enough to settle there if he had.

A WORD TO SHOP-KEEPERS.

In one respect--nay, in more, if so please you---I am unfeminine. I detest shopping. I feel any thing but affection for Eve every time I am forced to do it. But we must be clean and whole, even in this dirt-begrimed, lawless city; where ash-barrels and ash-boxes, with spikes of protruding nails for the unwary, stand on every sidewalk, waiting the bidding of balmy zephyrs to sift their dusky contents. on our luckless clothes. All the better for shopkeepers; indeed, I am not at all sure, that they and the street-cleaning gentry do not, as doctors and druggists are said to do, play into each other's hands!

Apart from my natural and never-to-be-uprooted dislike to the little feminine recreation of shop