ian brother--a _Christian_ brother, mind you--and I've been had up
before the family tribunal for blasphemy, and condemned to everlasting
punishment. Lord!--But, mark my words," he exclaimed emphatically, "a
time will come when every school-girl will see, what my life is made a
burden to me for seeing now, the absurdity of the whole religious
superstition."

"O doctor!" Mrs. Caldwell cried, "surely you believe in God?"

"God has not revealed Himself to me, madam; I know nothing about Him,"
the old gentleman answered gently.

"Ah, there you know you are wrong, Gottley," Mr. Caldwell chimed in,
and then he proceeded to argue the question. The old doctor, being in
a hurry, said little in reply, and when he had gone Mrs. Caldwell
exclaimed, with wifely tact--

"Well, I think you had the best of that!"

"Well, I think I had, poor old buffer!" her husband answered
complacently, his temper restored. "By the way, I've brought in the
last number of Dickens. Shall I read it to you?"

Her face brightened. "Yes, do," she rejoined. "One moment, till Jane
has done clearing the table. Here's your chair," and she placed the
only easy one in the room for him, in the best light.

These readings were one of the joys of her life. He read to her often,
and read exceedingly well. Books were the bond of union between them,
the prop and stay of their married life. Poor as they were, they
always managed to find money for new ones, which they enjoyed together
in this way. Intellectuality balanced the morbid irritability of the
husband's temperament, and literature made life tolerable to them both
as nothing else could have done. As he read now, his countenance
cleared, and his imaginary cares fell from him; while his wife's very
real ones were forgotten as she listened, and there was a blessed
truce to trouble for a time. Unfortunately, however, as the reading
proceeded, he came to a rasping bit of the story, which began to grate
upon his nerves. The first part had been pleasurably exciting, but
when he found the sensation slipping from him, he thought to stay it
with a stimulant, and went to the sideboard for the purpose. Mrs.
Caldwell's heart sank; the whisky bottle was all but empty.

"Oh, damn it!" he exclaimed, banging it down on the sideboard. "And I
suppose there is none in the house. There never is any in the house.
No one looks after anything. My comfort is never considered. It is
always those damned children."

"Henry!" his