blame
Mrs. Abercrombie too severely, nor say this cause was censurably
inadequate. The touch of a feather will hurt an inflamed part. Ah!
does not your own experience in life affirm this. Think of the last
time the cloud was on your brow, and ask yourself as to the adequacy
of the cause.

"But what was the cause?" you inquire. Well, don't smile: a pair of
gaiters had been sent home for Mrs. Abercrombie, late on the evening
previous, and one of her first acts in the morning was to try them
on. They did not fit! Now, Mrs. Abercrombie intended to go out on
that very morning, and she wished to wear these gaiters. "Enough to
fret her, I should say!" exclaims one fair reader. "A slight cause,
indeed!" says another, tossing her curls; "men are great
philosophers!"

We crave pardon, gentle ladies all, if, in our estimate of causes,
we have spoken too lightly of this. But we have, at least, stated
the case fairly. Mrs. Abercrombie's brow was clouded because the new
gaiters did not fit her handsome foot--a member, by the way, of
which she was more than a little vain.

For an hour Mrs. Abercrombie remained alone in her chamber, feeling
very sad; for, in that time, reflection had come, and she was by no
means satisfied with the part she had been playing, nor altogether
unconscious of the fact that from her clouded brow had fallen the
shadows now darkening over her household. As soon as she had gained
sufficient control of herself to act toward her children more wisely
and affectionately, the mother took her place in the nursery, and
with a tenderness of manner that acted like a charm, attracted her
little ones to her side, and inspired them with a new and better
spirit. To them sunshine was restored again; and the few rays that
penetrated to the mother's heart, lighted its dim chambers, and
touched it with a generous warmth.

But the shadows from Mrs. Abercrombie's clouded brow fell not alone
upon her household. The spirit that pervades the home-circle is
often carried forth by those who go out into the world. It was so in
this case. Mr. Abercrombie's feelings were overcast with shadows
when he entered the store. There was a pressure, in consequence,
upon his bosom, and a state of irritability which he essayed, though
feebly and ineffectually, to overcome.

"Where is Edward?" he inquired, soon after his arrival.

Edward was a lad, the son of a poor widow, who had recently been
employed in Mr. Abercrombie's store.

"He h