project of Amy's which I should be glad to assist her in, if you approve of it."

Fanny meant to say just the right thing; but there was an overstrained respect in her tone, a precision of manner, that her husband felt was disagreeable, and her effort failed to restore him to a cheerful state of mind.

"I will attend to it," he replied, "as soon as I have finished reading these debates in Congress."

Fanny now thought that she was the aggrieved party, and, drawing a long sigh, she took up a book, and was soon apparently absorbed in its contents. Mr. Roberts finished what he was reading, and, looking up, saw his young, beautiful, and lovely wife with an expression of sadness in her face. He thought it was foolish in him to have noticed such a trifle, and that, after all, it was only Fanny's way; then he thought of his want of courtesy in not attending to what she had to say to him, and at last he came to the conclusion that he alone was to blame. He seated himself by the side of Fanny on the sofa, and said to her, in the most affectionate tone, "I fear, my dear wife, that I was not very civil to you; I am sorry if I gave you pain; but you hurt me a little by your tone and manner

of speaking to me when I returned from my walk."

"What did I say?" replied Fanny; "I am unconscious of having done any wrong."

"It was but a trifle,” replied her husband; and he repeated what she said, and tried to imitate her tone.

Fanny denied it. "My heart," she said, "would have forbidden my speaking in such a way to you." Her husband was not convinced, but he could not bear any further contention.

"Perhaps I was mistaken," he said; "let it pass. What did you want to speak of with me?"

Fanny brought the paper, and told him of Amy's school; but her husband's mind was otherwise occupied.

"Do just as you please, my dear; I dare say, if Amy and you approve of it, it is a good thing."

Fanny put down her name for what sum she thought proper, and this trifle, as they thought it, was apparently forgotten. In the course of the evening, Fanny sent the paper to Amy, and wrote on the envelope, "Mr. Roberts entirely approves of your school. I enclose you my subscription."

Amy was much pleased at the liberal aid of

her friends, and their cordial approbation of her favorite plan. She found many others willing to assist her with their money, or in any other way that she should point out. She discovered that there were not many people who held her father's opinions upon the subject of the education of the poor; here and there she met with a loyal conservative of the barbarous times which he represented, standing like a blighted tree among the green foliage and full blossoming branches of a more genial, a more hopeful age.

As Fanny had supposed, Ruth was a great help to Amy in all her labors of charity. If any thing was to be sent to the sick or the sorrowful, Ruth was always at leisure to take it: if Amy expressed the apprehension lest she were too much fatigued with her duties at home to visit the poor, she would answer, "Kindness will creep, ma'am, where it cannot run; what good I can do will never hurt me."

Soon after Amy's school was established, she went to pass the evening at her cousin's. When Mr. Roberts came in, she said to him, "I have been wanting to tell you how much pleased I am that you approve of my school, and to thank you for your very liberal aid."

Mr. Roberts had only a slight, and that not a very agreeable recollection, of what Fanny had

said to him about the school, and did not know what she had given.

"I was not aware," he said, "of deserving your thanks; what school do you mean? I doubt not, Amy, I shall think well of it, if it is your work."

"I thought, Fanny, that you wrote me word that your husband approved of my school."

"I did so," replied Fanny, "and he certainly said that he did; but we must not expect men who are so entirely occupied with rail-roads, and silk-worms, coal-mines, and sugar-beets, Swedish turnips, and steam-boats, to think of such common things as dirty, crying children. You know that he is now engaged in public improvements, which, if you have observed, have no reference. to the individual good of human beings. On they go, these public improvers, like their own steam-engines, running over blind men and pigs, deaf old women and cows, children and geese; and the best you can hope for is, that, out of common mercy, they will invent a contrivance by which they can catch up whoever is in their way, and carry him off, nolens volens, nobody knows where. If your school could be benefited by a rail-road to Chargoggagoggmanchoggagogg Pond, I advise you, my dear, to come to Mr. Roberts for assistance."

Fanny paused here, because she was out of breath; she observed that her husband did not much relish what she intended for sport, but she enjoyed it herself too well to stop even for his sake. She continued, "I heard, the other day, of one poor fellow who ventured on the top of a rail-road car, which went at such a rate that, when he stopped, and happened to look in the glass, he discovered that he had lost his wig, nose, and teeth on the road.”

"What nonsense, Fanny! come, be serious. I want to tell Mr. Roberts how well my school succeeds. It is your fault, I doubt not, that he knows nothing of it."

"When did you ever speak of it?" asked her husband.

"The day," replied Fanny, "when you and Mr. Elton walked out to Brookline, and returned so late to dinner."

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"I remember it all now;

"" said Mr. Roberts. "I believe, however, I was in season for dinner." A slight shade came over his face as he spoke.

“I don't think I looked at the paper at all, or knew what Fanny subscribed. I felt sure that if it was a plan of yours, Amy, I should like it, and that whatever money Fanny gave for that object would be well spent."

There was an emphasis upon the last part of