ome
phenomenal force in her nature. Her scorn for common things, her
fastidiousness, her indifference to the little obligations which compel
less dainty and spirited creatures,--all act as chains and rivet his
attachment to her.

A few months later, when she has become his wife, and he is forced to
look at her tempers and her caprices, at her fastidiousness and
expensiveness, from an altered standpoint, her whole character seems to
be illuminated with new light. He no longer finds her charming when she
has an incurable restlessness and melancholy: her pretty negations of
the facts life present to her begin to seem to him the product of a mind
undisciplined by any actual knowledge that she is "a human creature,
subject to the same laws as other human creatures." He has hitherto
considered that her scorn for the common and usual indicated an
appreciation of the rarest and loftiest, but she seems to have no
appreciation for anything save enjoyment. She has no idea of the true
purposes of life: she likes everything dwarfed to suit her own stature.
It is not by compliance that her husband can give her more than
temporary pleasure. If she wants to see Europe, Europe will not satisfy
her. "Sense will support itself handsomely in most countries," says
Carlyle, "on eighteen pence a day, but for fantasy planets and solar
systems will not suffice."

L.W.

PRAYER-MEETING ELOQUENCE.

Weekly prayer-meetings in New England villages offer a variety of
singular experiences to the unaccustomed listener, and it seems almost
incredible at times that they can furnish spiritual sustenance even to
the devout. There are apt to be two or three among the regular
attendants who being, according to their own estimate, "gifted in
prayer," raise their voices loud and long with many a mellifluous
phrase and lofty-sounding polysyllable. Mr. Eli Lewis is one of the most
eloquent among the church-members in the village of C----, and if left
to his own way would engross the entire evening with his prayers and
exhortations. Nothing is too large for his imagination to grasp nor too
small for his observations to consider. "_O Lord, Thou knowest!_" he
repeats endlessly, sometimes qualifying this statement by putting into
the next phrase, "_O Lord, Thou art probably aware!_" He is fond of
poetry too, and frequently interpolates into his petition and
thanksgiving his favorite verses. His fellow-worshippers are fully
conscious of his excellent intention