most ashamed of the little she possessed; but her
high-minded, generous husband took her penniless as she was, and
laughingly assured her that they could never quarrel on the score of
riches; for his wardrobe was nearly as scanty as her own; and, beyond a
great chest of books and music, he had nothing in the world but his
half-pay. Many a long afternoon Flora spent during her quiet honeymoon
(for the month was April, and the weather very wet) in looking over
shirts and socks, and putting them into the best habitable repair. She
was thus employed, when an author of some distinction called upon them,
to enjoy half-an-hour's chat. Flora hid up her work as fast as she
could; but in her hurry, unfortunately, upset her work-basket on the
floor, and all the objectionable garments tumbled out at her guest's
feet.

He was young, unmarried and a poet; and this certainly was not a
poetical incident. "Mrs. Lyndsay," he cried, in a tragic horror--(it
would have been more in good taste to have said nothing about it)--"Are
you forced to devote your valuable time to mending old socks and
shirts?"

"They were meant for my _private_ hours," said Flora, laughing, as she
collected the fallen articles, and stowed them once more into their
hiding-place. "With _such_ the public has nothing to do."

"Well, if ever I marry, I'll take good care to give away every old thing
I have in the world. No wife of mine shall have it to say that she was
forced to mend my rags."

"Wait till the time comes," said Flora quietly. "You don't know what may
happen yet. There are more disagreeable things in every-day life than
mending old clothes. Industry and perseverance may soon replace these
with new ones; but it is useless to throw away old friends until we are
sure of obtaining others as good."

Flora had often thought of this scene, and in her overflowing happiness
had blessed God that she had been permitted to share Lyndsay's poverty.
Mending the old clothes had become a privilege.

Thirty pounds was all that she could now afford to lay out upon herself
and her little one. A small sum, indeed, to the rich, who would have
expended as much in a single article of dress, but very large in her
estimation, whose wants had always been regulated more by the wants of
others than her own.

Ignorant of the nature of the colony to which she was about to emigrate,
and of the manners and customs of the people among whom she was to find
a new home, and of whom s