cumstance of funerals, comes that of the formalities and shows at weddings. It will be said by some, "Is it not a fit time for a festival, when two loving hearts are united?" Surely, if it be a heart-felt festival; but have our wedding visits and wedding parties this character? It is dress-dress; there is no heart in it. The bride and bridegroom, if they really love each other, cannot be interested in such empty show. Life has a new and a more deep reality to them. They can sympathize only in what is simple and

true.

All the world had assembled to pay their compliments to the new-married couple. Edward Selmar was standing by Amy Weston: he looked dejected. "If we are ever married, Amy," he said to her, "we will not have such a foolish parade as this. How intolerable it must be to Roberts and Fanny! The tears are hardly dry upon poor Fanny's cheek, which the ceremony called forth. She looks like a victim. I think there is more sense in doing as a couple did, who came into a clergyman's house where I was visiting the other evening. The man said, as he entered, 'We have been calculating, sir, a good while, to be married; and we thought,

as we were going by this evening, we would just stop in, and be made man and wife." "

"I cannot say," replied Amy, "that I should fancy that way, though I do not like this. We must not do as Dr. used

to say some folks did - stand so upright as

to bend backwards."

maze. late him.

"Do, Amy, look at Roberts, among all those fashionables; he looks in a sort of There goes Mrs. Lovell, to congratuHow patronizing she looks! How foolish he appears. She is making much of him. Deliver me from being patronized by her!"

"Never fear, till you ride in your own coach again. She patronizes no one who goes afoot, or who is not distinguished in some way or other. The sanction of public opinion is necessary to secure her attentions." "I detest such a character."

"It deserves more to be pitied. She shows that she has a very low estimate of the value of her own opinion—that she does not judge for herself. She does not value her own honest thought even as much as we value it. She is, in the main, kind-hearted, and would be good, if she only had the courage to be so."

"It is all worldly-mindedness and ambition. I am sick of it. How much longer do you mean to stay, Amy?”

"Do not you remain any longer, if you wish to go, Edward." Amy spoke very

kindly, but Edward's mind was out of tune.

"It is not so easy," he replied, "for me to leave you as you seem to suppose, Amy."

"You mistook me, Edward. You know that, as Fanny's intimate friend, people would think it very strange, if I were to go away now."

"People would think! These are the magic words that govern the fashionable world."

"They do not, you know, govern me, Edward. If you really wish me to go home now, I will go; for, though I should otherwise prefer to remain, that is a trifle; while giving you pain can never be a trifle."

"No, no, Amy; I am not so bad as that. I will stay, and try to be agreeable. Let the world govern whom it may, I am contented to be governed by you."

"But I have no desire to take upon me such an office."

"That is the very reason why I wish you to hold it," replied Edward.

"Come, come,” said a brisk-looking lady, who just then joined them; "this is as bad as for married people to be talking together in company; it is not fair. Tell me if you have heard of the affair that took place at Mrs. Longman's party.”

"No," was the answer.

"O, I am glad of it. It is a capital story, and I will tell you all about it. Mrs. Longman had a large party of young people, and, in order to entertain her company, made a sort of lottery, in which every one present was offered a ticket the number of each ticket answering to that of one of the couplets contained in two baskets, one for the ladies, and the other for the gentlemen. When Mr. Sharp's number was called, what do you think he drew? You know he is the very genius of dullness.

'You are too tedious- too prosing-too sleepy;
What lady could fancy Sir Samuel Sheepy?'

Then little Miss Black was called up, a miniature belle, not more than sixteen. (You know she looks like a child.) She had these lines for her portion of the amusement :

'If so soon, little miss, for a husband you sigh,
A gingerbread one I advise you to buy.'

She actually shook her little elbows with vexation. A sort of titter ran through the whole room. Then, you know Mr. Brush, who is a very sensible man, but very particular and quiddling - he received this for his dose :

'Do walk like a man, and leave off that diddle;
The lady you love can't marry a quiddle.'

He supplied the last word himself, saying,
'That means me,' and walked off to a corner
of the room.
There were many more almost
incredible chance-strokes of the same kind;
but, worse than all, when the rich Miss
Reed's number was called, she came up,
laughing, and these words were heard all
through the room:

'Although his words are sweet as honey,
His heart is fixed upon your money.'

Every one knows that she was always a little suspicious, though unjustly, that the gentleman she was engaged to was influenced in his choice by mercenary views. She grew crimson red, and she and her lover forthwith departed, evidently thinking this was a questionable sort of pastime. Many tore their tickets in pieces, and said they did