ich she was
particularly sensible. The consequence was that, while she was lecturing
half the poor women in the parish for their idleness, the bread was kept
out of their mouths by the incessant carding of wool, and knitting of
stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and winding, and pirning, that
went on among the ladies themselves. And, by the by, Miss Jacky is not
the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when
she converts what ought to be the portion of the poor into the
employment of the affluent.

"In short, Min Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would
at a single glance have detected the sensible woman in the erect head,
the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm, judicious step. Even her
very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of their
mistress. Her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's;
her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking-shoes were
acknowledged to be very sensible, and she drew on her gloves with an air
of sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From
what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was, in
fact, anything but a sensible woman, as, indeed, no woman can be who
bears such visible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet
and unostentatious of all good qualities."

* * * * *

Frederika Bremer, the Swedish novelist, whose novels have been
translated into English, German, French, and Dutch, had a style
peculiarly her own. Her humor reminds me of a bed of mignonette, with
its delicate yet permeating fragrance. One paragraph, like one spray of
that shy flower, scarcely reveals the dainty flavor.

From the "Neighbors," her best story, and one that still has a moderate
sale, I take her description of Franziska's first little lover-like
quarrel with her adoring husband, the "Bear." (Let us remember Miss
Bremer with appreciation and gratitude, as one of the very few visitors
we have entertained who have written kindly of our country and our
"Homes.")

THE FIRST QUARREL.

"Here I am again sitting with a pen in my hand, impelled by a desire for
writing, yet with nothing particular to write about. Everything in the
house and in the whole household arrangement is in order. Little patties
are baking in the kitchen, the weather is oppressively hot, and every
leaf and bird seem as if deprived of motion. The hens lie outside in the
s