ned."

"I cannot say that I am sorry, at least for the sake of his wife.
She seems more cheerful since she came here. I feel sometimes as if
I should like to offer her a home, for she has none, that might
truly be so called."

"Act up to your kind desire, Jane, if you think it right to do so,"
said her husband. "Perhaps in no other home open to her could so
much be done for her comfort."

The home was accordingly offered, and tearfully accepted.

"Jane," said the sad hearted woman, "I cannot tell you how much I
have suffered in the last twenty years. How much from
heart-sickening disappointments, and lacerated affections. High
hopes and brilliant expectations that made my weak brain giddy to
think of, have all ended thus. How weak and foolish--how mad we
were! But my husband was not all to blame. I was as insane in my
views of life as he. We lived only for ourselves--thought and cared
only for ourselves--and here is the result. How wisely and well did
you choose, Jane. Where my eye saw nothing to admire, yours more
skilled, perceived the virgin ore of truth. I was dazzled by show,
while you looked below the surface, and saw true character, and its
effect in action. How signally has each of us been rewarded!" and
the heart-stricken creature bowed her head and wept.

And now, kind reader, if there be one who has followed us thus far,
are you disappointed in not meeting some startling denoument, or
some effective point in this narrative. I hope not. Natural results
have followed, in just order, the adoption of true and false
principles of action--and thus will they ever follow. Learn, then, a
lesson from the history of the two young men and the maidens of
their choice. Let every young man remember, that all permanent
success in life depends upon the adoption of such principles of
action as are founded in honesty and truth; and let every young
woman take it to heart, that all her married life will be affected
by the principles which her husband sets down as rules of action.
Let her give no consideration to his brilliant prospect, or his
brilliant mind, if sound moral principles do not govern him.

"But what became of Charles Wilton and his wife?" I hear a
bright-eyed maiden asking, as she turns half impatient from my
homily.

Wilton has escaped justice thus far, and his wife, growing more and
more cheerful every day, is still the inmate of Judge Gray's family,
and I trust will remain so until the end of her journe