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"I shall often try you, then; I am hasty and sensitive to any appearance of wrong in any one I love. I am often unreasonable."

"But our happiness," said Amy, "cannot be in danger if we are only fearless and open in confessing our own, and reproving each other's faults."

"We not only," said Edward, "must have no disguises about things of acknowledged importance, but we must consider nothing as trifling in which the happiness of either of us is in question; we must be perfectly open."

All who saw Edward and Amy together perceived that the evil spirit of fear which so often mars the happiness of married life, had no place between them, but that the "spirit of love and a sound mind" presided over and blessed them.

"There is one fault," said Edward, "which very intimate friends are apt to fall into, which I hope we shall avoid."

"What is that?" replied Amy.

"It is bad manners towards each other.” "But how is that possible, Edward? you surely would not like such company politeness as Mrs. Lovell has towards her husband?"

"No, it is not the form, but the spirit and soul of good manners, that I hope we shall never neglect."

"But, loving each other as we do, how is it possible we should be wanting in good manners?

"It would seem so, Amy; and yet I have often seen people who really loved each other neglectful of the delicate attentions and courtesies of life, on the plea that their intimate friends were sure of their affection, and it was not necessary to be so scrupulous about such little things with friends."

"I think it very vulgar," replied Amy. "How can they be willing to check the spring of little affections which sweeten the cup of life as we drink it."

"It is nevertheless true, Amy; and I have seen your intimate friends commit this fault towards you; I have seen them lavish their attentions and agreeableness upon strangers, and neglect you, because they thought that they were sure of your love."

"I have never noticed it," said Amy.

"I have," replied Edward; "and I have seen the same thing between married people, and I am certain it is a deep injury to any friendship. All our virtues, all our purest

affections require watchfulness; they must be cultivated, and cherished."

Thus in the simplicity, and truth, and joy of Christian love, did Edward and Amy walk hand in hand, and heart in heart, along the happy way before them.] Wealth was a real blessing to them, for they understood its true uses; life was a real blessing to them, for they kept in view its infinite purposes; love was a real blessing to them, for they were acquainted with its infinite joys.

CHAPTER XIV.

"His purpose is not to appear just, but to be." AESCHYLUS.

MANY months had passed away, each one leaving Edward and Amy happier than it found them. It was a winter evening; Mr. Weston had retired for the night, visiters were gone, and Edward had been sitting for some time, perfectly silent, looking into the fire.

"What makes you so unusually silent, Edward?" said his wife.

"I can hardly tell: have I been very silent?"

"Why you have not spoken for an hour." "It is a very bad night for the poor," said Edward; "the cold is extreme."

"Yes," said Amy, "are you not glad that we sent poor Mrs. Brown some wood this morning?"

Edward made no answer.

"Shall I read

SKETCHES OF MARRIED LIFE.

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you a letter I received this morning from Fanny Roberts; she and her husband are, fear, very unhappy."

Edward's attention seemed awakened, and Amy read him Fanny's letter.

Dear Amy,

This is my little Willy's birth-day. The day of her son's birth ought to be a mother's holiday. Alas! there is no holiday in our house, none in my heart. Three years ago when the first sound of my child's voice fell on my ear, it seemed to me like a voice from Heaven, pronouncing a blessing upon me. Now I look upon the little fellow with pity. I pity him, for, like his mother, he thirsts for happiness, and I fear he will not find it. I pity him, for he craves affection and he shall never be satisfied. I pity him, for he loves his mother, and she does not deserve his love; he leans upon her, and she is a broken reed. His father came and took him in his arms this morning, and pressed him to his heart with such an indescribable tenderness; and I saw him look up, and I saw tears, yes, tears in his eyes, but not one word did he speak. It seemed to me as if he purposely looked away from me, as if he wished to forget that

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