to repress their risible tendencies, and therefore deemed it best to throw off all restraint on the subject.

"The matter?

Nothing's the matter, I believe.

Why do you ask?" Douglass looked grave.

"Well may we ask what's the matter! broke in Cora, energetically. "How could you come here in such a plight?"

"In such a plight? And Edward looked down at himself, felt of his beard, and run his fingers through his hair. "What's the matter? Is any thing wrong?"

"You look as if you had just waked up from a nap of a week, with your clothes on, and come off without washing your face or combing your hair," said my husband.

"O!" And Edward's countenance brightened a little. Then he said, with much gravity of

"I've been extremely hurried of late, and only left my store a few minutes ago. I hardly thought it worth while to go home to dress up. I knew you were all friends here. Besides, as my fortune's made," — and he glanced, with a look not to be mistaken, towards his wife, -"I don't feel called upon to give as much attention to mere dress as formerly. Before I was married, it was necessary to be particular in these matters, but now it is of no consequence."

I turned towards Cora. Her face was like crim

son. In a few minutes she arose, and went quickly from the room. I followed her, and Edward came after us pretty soon.

He found his wife in tears, and sobbing almost hysterically.

"I've got a carriage at the door," he said to me aside, half laughing, half serious. "So help her on with her things, and we'll retire in disorder." "But it's too bad in you, Mr. Douglass," I replied.

"Forgive me for making your house the scene of this lesson to Cora," he whispered. "It had to be given, and I thought I would venture to trespass upon your forbearance."

"I'll think about that," said I, in return.

In a few minutes Cora and her husband retired, and in spite of good breeding, and every thing else, we all had a hearty laugh over the matter on my return to the parlor, when I explained the curious scene that had just occurred.

How Cora and her husband settled the affair between themselves, I never inquired. But one thing is certain — I never saw her in a slovenly dress afterwards, at home or abroad. She was cured.

MIGNONETTE.

Reseda Odorata.

LANGUAGE - MORAL WORTH.

Now look ye on the plain and modest guise
Of yon unlovely flower. Unlovely? No-
Not beautiful, 'tis true - not touched with hues
Like hers we late have gazed on; but so rich
In precious fragrance is that lovely one,
So loved for her sweet qualities, that I
Should woo her first amid a world of flowers;
For she is like some few beloved ones here,
Whom eyes, perchance, might slightingly pass o'er,
But whose true wisdom, gentleness, and worth,
Unchanging friendship, ever-faithful love,
And countless minor beauties of the mind,
Attach our hearts in deep affection still.

When yet a virgin free and indisposed,
I loved, but saw you only with my eyes;
I could not reach the beauties of

your

I have lived since in contemplation

soul:

TWAMBLY.

And long experience of your growing goodness;
What then was passion is my judgment now;
Through all the several changes of your life,
Confirmed and settled in adoring you.

HAYNE.

SENSITIVE PLANT.

Mimosa.

LANGUAGE-SENSITIVENESS.

LIKE the mimosa, shrinking from
The blight of some familiar finger-
Like flowers which but in secret bloom,
Where aye the sheltered shadows linger,
And which beneath the noon's hot ray
Would fold their leaves and fade away.

WHITTIER.

Faithful and fond, with sense beyond thy years,

And natural piety that leans to heaven; Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears, Yet patient of rebuke when justly given; Obedient, easy to be reconciled,

And meekly cheerful, such art thou, dear child!

Dearly bought, the hidden treasure

Finer feelings can bestow;

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

MRS. NORTON.

The frigid and unfeeling thrive the best;
And a warm heart in this cold world is like
A beacon light, wasting its feeble flame
Upon the wintry deep, that feels it not,

BURNS.

And trembling, with each pitiless gust that blows, Till its faint fire is spent.

H. NEALE.

MISTLETOE.

Viscum Album.

LANGUAGE-NOT DISCOURAGED.

PETER and Paul went a-fishing one day,
And it so came about

That Paul caught a trout;

But Peter kept baiting and fishing away -
He'd scarce had a nibble when twilight was gray
So he sat himself down for a pout·
Peter sat himself down for a pout.

And Paul laughed at Peter, and called him a fool;
He had better to bed,

For the day was nigh sped,

And the earth it was damp, and the evening cool:
But Peter was crabbed, and called him a mule ;
Then, baiting his hook and scratching his head,
"There's other fish swimming here yet," Peter said;
"O, there's other fish swimming here yet."

And Peter kept fishing; but Paul went his way
To eat trout with his bread

Ere he went to his bed

And he wondered how long poor Peter would stay:
But Pete caught a salmon as fair as the day,

And he laughed to himself, as homeward he sped;
"There's other fish swimming there yet," Peter said;
“O, there's other fish swimming there yet."

Whene'er in life's ocean a maid you espy,
And you vow, and you sue,

And she pledges you true,

But while you are napping she's caught by a fly,
Don't turn, like a dunce, with a tear in your eye,
But think of one Peter, who sat in the dew,
And muttered this text while he baited anew-
"There's other fish swimming there yet;

O, there's other fish swimming there yet." J. J. LORD.