it was but a step-and brought forth his evening | folded and airing on a chair-back; that exdress, or undress, which he assumed amidst the continued stillness of the household.

"Humph!" he said, sniffing. "Cigars! That people at home when they owe you money I might boy's habits are intolerable."

"H-m-m," said Mr. Crabbe, reflectively. "I can't just say about that. He appears to think the payment of his debts is money lost."

And all might now have gone smoothly had not something recalled to Mr. Crabbe's mind the injury he had suffered with reference to the evening paper. His son's recent service tempered the rebuke, but could not quite repress it. "Rufus," he said, "when you have read the paper I shall be obliged if you will leave it in decent shape for those who come after you. And another thing. Tobacco is very offensive to me, particularly such cigars as you use. You have your own room, where you can smoke as much as you like, and the parlors must not be used for such a purpose. I hope you will remember this, and that I shall have no occasion to speak again upon the subject."

Mr. Crabbe might have stated his wishes in half a dozen different ways without arousing that quick spirit which abode in Rufus as in the rest of the family-always excepting Cecy. But there was a weight of dispassionate sternness in his tone that cut the youth deeply-and then the injurious reference to his cigars! Rufus bought them by the box of a "friend of his" down town, and considered that he obtained the choicest brands at a mere nominal price. To have his father, ignorant as an Esquimaux about such things, sneering at the quality of his cigars! It was a little too much. He left the room immediately, and the way in which he shut the door was not conciliatory. Shortly afterward the front door closed in a like energetic manner.

"Out again!" said Mr. Crabbe, as he heard it. "This business is rather overdone, I think. Our young masters will feel it a condescension, by-and-by, to board and lodge with us."

"I suppose he goes where he can have a little liberty," said Mrs. Crabbe, who had been inly exasperated at the slight notice taken of her boy's success and the after-piece of reproof. "It is not pleasant to be perpetually found fault with." "Ah! unfortunate he should be so sensitive," remarked Mr. Crabbe, satirically.

"Unfortunate for him, certainly," answered the mother.

"Unfortunate for all his family," said Mr.

Crabbe.

Mrs. Crabbe felt quite equal to a continuation of hostilities, but considered that the discussion had gone far enough, and allowed her husband the last word. Peace accordingly ensued for a time. The father, having finished his paper, took up a magazine; the mother and daughters went on with their needle-work.

"I do think this is the hardest room to keep warm in!"

"How can you say so?" returned Maria. "I'm comfortable enough, I'm sure.”

"I dare say. I might be, too, if I had been sitting next the stove all the evening."

"There is no occasion for any one to suffer," remarked Mr. Crabbe. "Open the dampers and the room will soon be warm enough, I'll warrant.”

Gertrude came around from her station at the back of the table and drew them open. Both Maria and the father were much nearer the stove; but then they were comfortable enough already. As it was Gertrude who desired the change, she was clearly the one to take the trouble of it-such little trouble as there was. "The

"Oh dear!" Maria speedily exclaimed. room is like a furnace. I'm sure you must be warm by this time, Gertrude."

"Indeed I am not. The heat hasn't got around yet."

"Do take my seat, then-it is fairly scorching here."

When matters had reached this pass Maria was quite willing to resign her place in favor of her sister.

"I never saw any one like you," she continued. "You are the coldest creature!"

"It isn't so, at all," replied Gertrude, injured by the accusation. "I am cold in a cold place, just as you would be yourself."

"There it is. Now I am just as comfortable here as I want to be."

"I wish you had changed with me a little sooner, then. And as for always being cold, I am no more given to complaining of it than you are. But you always think you are the standard, and if you feel warm enough every one ought to, and if you are chilly it's because it is chilly."

66

'Pray stop this wrangling," said Mr. Crabbe, looking up, "and let us have a little quiet."

Sympathy was immediately established between the sisters, united in a common hostility toward their parent. They drew nearer together, and agreed that papa wanted to keep the wrangling for his own especial privilege. Mrs. Crabbe, accustomed to these little breezes and by-plays, took no notice, but went on composedly with her sewing.

The evening was rather dull. There were no visitors; and after Mr. Crabbe's remonstrance the scene could hardly be enlivened by any little sparring. It was a welcome interruption, therefore, when, toward ten o'clock, the door-bell sounded and Cecy entered, fresh and glowing from the frosty air outside.

I can not say that Cecy Crabbe was handsome, or elegant, or in any way remarkable. Gertrude was quite the beauty of her circle, and Maria decidedly plain; they represented the extremes of the family, and Cecy its mean. She looked healthy and happy and kind-hearted; she had pretty brown eyes and pretty hair. Here I am “How cold it is!" said Gertrude, presently. | afraid the catalogue of her charms must end.

"Had a pleasant visit, Cecy?" asked her fa- | nurses! I wonder how the Hammonds relish ther, laying down his book and smiling respons- that? Two smart city servants coming in upon ive to the smiling face. them, with their small house and plain ways. I pity them!"

"Oh yes; delightful!"

"Who was there?" said Gertrude.

"Only the family. I did not expect to meet any one, you know."

"You said it was so 'delightful,'" explained Gertrude, "I thought you must have had some one to relieve the Hammonds."

"I did not need any relief. Marian and, I had ever so many things to talk about. And she is piecing a silk bed-quilt; the sweetest thing! I can't quite describe the figure, but I will cut out a block in paper to-morrow to show you. The colors shade into each other, and you have no idea how handsome it is. I am quite wild to make one. Mrs. Geer brought up the pattern

with her from New York."

"She has come, has she?" asked Maria. "What does she seem like, Cecy? Stuck-up as ever ?"

“They do not seem in need of pity,” said Cecy, smiling. "They were in excellent spirits. Mrs. Geer, you know, is such a great character with them all."

"I dare say. Nothing like a rich marriage for raising your importance in every body's eyes."

"Suppose you try it for yourself," said Mr. Crabbe. "Perhaps then Louise Hammond's prosperity will not disturb you so much."

Maria was about to reply, but a glance from her mother checked her. She contented herself with looking injured and indignant the remainder of the evening.

"I brought home a famous recipe for muffins," said Cecy, hastening to introduce a new topic. "We had them for tea, and they were excellent. I mean to try them to-morrow, mam

"I don't know-I did not see any thing of it. ma." Was she so formerly?"

"Was she,' indeed? Now, Cecy, you needn't pretend to so much innocence. There never was a girl in this city that put on such airs as Louise Hammond, and when she was engaged to that rich Mr. Geer she grew absolutely insufferable. Though what there was to plume herself on there I am sure I can't tell. A man old enough to be her father, and that she never would have looked at if it hadn't been for his money!"

"She seemed very pleasant to-night," said Cecy. "And, mother, you ought to see her twins. They are the sweetest little things!" "As sweet as the silk bed-quilt?" inquired Mr. Crabbe.

"I wish you would," said Mr. Crabbe. "The bread to-night was simply dough."

"Betsy had to hurry that loaf in order to get in the meat for dinner," explained Mrs. Crabbe. "She very seldom has poor bread. But we can generally trust to your father to notice any little failure, and to inform us of it."

A quick shadow of discomfort crossed Cecy's face, and was gone again. "Father," she said, gayly, "can't you give me my revenge at backgammon to-night? There is time yet for a game or two."

Mr. Crabbe assented, and the board was brought. No preliminary inquiries were needed; Cecy always played with the yellow men, and into the left-hand table. She was a dashing player-did not heed exposed points, and was indifferent to being taken up. Fortune favored her a while, then veered shamelessly about to Mr. Crabbe.

"You're done for, Cecy," observed Rufus, who had come in and now stood overlooking the board.

66

"Look in the glass and you see them now, I ther. guess," was Mr. Crabbe's comment.

"They are exactly alike," said Cecy, continuing her description. "I don't see how their own mother tells them apart. I tried, to-night, half a dozen times, and had to give up in the end and look at their necklaces to distinguish them."

"An exciting pastime," remarked Gertrude. "Cecy's delightful evening seems to have been spent in making out patch-work and trying to tell one baby from another!"

"Louise must have her hands full with the pair of them," said Mrs. Crabbe. "She pays pretty well for whatever privileges she has."

"Of course they are on her mind a good deal," replied Cecy, "but she has not much of the actnal care.

She keeps a nurse for each of them." "Upon my word!" exclaimed Maria. "Two VOL. XXXVI.-No. 216.-3 E

A gammon, I think, my dear," said her fa

"Don't be too certain," and at the words double-six rattled out, and released the four prisoners who had been held in durance vile through half a dozen throws.

"One or two more such strokes and you'll get in," said Rufus. But it was not to be. In her extremest need Cecy, like the Vicar of Wakefield, threw deuce-ace twice running. Mr. Crabbe's triumph was complete, and he closed the board in high good-humor, never dreaming but Cecy was as delighted with the pastime as he was himself.

A strong sense of meum and tuum pervaded, as you might expect, the domestic system of the Crabbes. Each had his rights on which he stood, jealously keeping the ground. Some

things were fully settled. Maria would no more | began to dawn on Mrs. Crabbe that all the little

have used Gertrude's thread or thimble without permission asked and given than she would have stolen fruit from the garden of a neighbor. Nor was such permission to be lightly sought. Gertrude would have said that there was no reason why Maria should not have thread of her own if she took the trouble to keep herself supplied; and as for her thimble, if she had a place for it, and put it there, she would have no need of borrowing. And Maria must have acknowledged the justice of these criticisms.

friendly offices came from her; that the glamour of courtship had passed away, and she was reduced to the common prosaic level of housekeeper and manager. It was not a pleasant discovery. If, like other women similarly enlightened, she said little about it, she thought much, and shed some bitter tears in secret even. One privilege at least she had; if she were no longer doted on she could, in turn, give up the foolishness of doting. Thus a portion of her character crusted over, and it came to pass that for many years It was the same with their various duties. Mr. Crabbe had been in her eyes the head and Each daughter had her allotted share, which provider of the family, for whom, indeed, she she carefully fulfilled to its exact limits, not one had a certain regard, but whose faults she plainhair's breadth over. She neither expected to re-ly saw, and whose shortcomings found in her no ceive nor to bestow assistance. Do you imagine tenderness to excuse them. that Maria dusted a picture-frame when Gertrude overlooked it during her week for clearing-up the parlors? Nay-not if it went undusted till the next Monday morning. She told Gertrude of it, with perchance a small sarcasm on her lack of nicety, and left her to repair the fault. There was no exchange of little kindly offices, lending of bows or collars, putting up hair and the like, so frequent in families less thoroughly regu-employed in behalf of others rather than herself. lated. Maria, indeed, had a gift for arranging trimmings or making up a head-dress; but Gertrude, if she sought her assistance in such matters, was heedful to tender an equivalent in other service. We may do Maria the justice to say that she would have demanded it had it not been offered. As in material things, so with moral. A spirit of indulgence was unthought of. little failing was passed lightly over; no fraction of unpleasant truth was ever withheld in deference to another's feelings.

You are not to suppose, however, that there was no semblance of family affection among the Crabbes. That were to do them great injustice. The children considered their father the very model of probity, intelligence, and sound judgment; their mother the best of mothers. may be said for Mrs. Crabbe that she was a kind parent, and that her occasional sharpness was

It

As for Mr. Crabbe, you would have insulted his understanding had you ventured to insinuate that any among the wives of his acquaintances possessed his own wife's skill in housekeeping, cookery, and general management, or was half as estimable a woman. His children were fully equal to other people's children, and in many things No superior. Of Maria's music and Gertrude's beauty he was particularly proud, though all Maria knew of it was that her favorite variations were characterized as senseless rattle, without beginning, middle, or end; while Gertrude was painfully conscious that her mouth was much too wide to please his taste. Rufus never suspected that his father thought him a fine, manly young fellow, quite a marvel, as boys went nowadays. Cecy, without beauty, music, or special cleverness, was Mr. Crabbe's darling. Yet Cecy had her share of snubbing, too, if any thing were wrong.

*One can hardly say whence this spirit was derived. I rather think from Mr. Crabbe, and that he was responsible, directly or indirectly, for the tone of the household. I know that in the first year of their wedded life Mrs. Crabbe was just as fondly watchful of her husband's comfort as any one could be; always ready to run up stairs for a clean pocket-handkerchief, or down stairs for a glass of water, did the occasion arise. Not that Mr. Crabbe was less able-bodied then than In some respects the family management had now, or less competent to supply his own needs, its merits. It gave no scope for “shirking," but that it was pleasant to render him such little whereby unpleasant duties are sometimes turned service. She spent a good deal of time in pre-off on the more willing members of a household paring his favorite dishes, and wore the colors he preferred. But by-and-by the first child came, and Mr. Crabbe was not as kind and thoughtful as many husbands are. He grumbled when the baby cried at night, as if his wife were not kept awake as well. On any small domestic failure he animadverted freely; why should he not? he thought. It was a failure, it gave him discomfort, and he should speak of it as often as it happened. Once or twice, when the presiding genius of the kitchen was away, he allowed his wife to make the fires, and did not himself arise till called to breakfast. The household labors were no part of his concerns, he told himself; he had his own business, and tired enough he got with it. It

to an unjustifiable extent. It also prevented the wear and tear of mind often experienced by the one orderly sister, never able to count upon a clean collar or pocket-handkerchief, no matter what care she takes of them. Nor in this house was the father looked upon as an enemy from whom all possible tribute was to be wrung by various methods of wheedling, sulking, and surprises. Mr. Crabbe imparted of his substance as freely as his circumstances rendered prudent; wife and daughters accepted his estimate, had their allowance, and made the most of it. There were no underhand practices; no bills run up at the milliner's and screwed out of the housekeeping money; all was open and above-board.

But justice untempered by mercy is a hard | expected to have, upon the outward relations of rule for domestic life, or any other. The Crabbes those who had experienced them.

Re

In the Crabbe family bodily illness was a kind of sanctuary, so long as it lasted. It is true that complaining was looked upon with some suspicion, and that no encouragement was held out to any one to feel or fancy himself ailing without sufficient cause. But the point once established, the invalid was king. He was to be cared for,

revile his gruel or panada, grumble about his pillows, snap up ever so fiercely his zealous nurses; all was borne with patience, nay cheerfulness, and never for one instant laid up against him. He was sick-that excused and comprehended every thing.

were not unhappy. They sparred right and left, but, the combat once over, were on good terms Time went on, bearing our family, harmonious again. Thus the knights of old, having given or discordant, along on his resistless tide, till and received hard knocks, would sit down and one morning Mr. Crabbe awoke, feeling very far feast together brotherly. But they might so from well. He was not the man to weakly yield casily have been a great deal happier; a little in- to every passing ailment; therefore he arose, fusion of gentleness, of kind feeling, would have made an attempt at breakfast, and set out for so softened and brightened their existence. So business as usual. In the course of an hour or Cecy thought and sighed. Sometimes when-two he was brought home by Rufus in a hack, rare occurrence an evening had passed har- from which he was carried to his own room and moniously, and they separated with perfect ami- thereafter treated as suited his condition. ty and good-will on every hand, she wondered that they could not see it, that they did not think of it the next time any trifling provocation offered. She knew very well that if important service were required each was capable of a good deal of self-denial for another's sake. Why, then, could they not curb an impatient answer, repress a petty but vexatious fault finding? She mar-whatever else was done or left undone. He might veled that their religion did not lead them into greener paths, by stiller waters; for each and every individual of the family, save Rufus, was a member of the church in good and regular standing. But perhaps she was the first Crabbe who had ever dreamed of applying that sacred power to such profane and secular uses. ligion that meant that you were not to lie, nor steal, nor swear, nor cheat; to defraud your servants of their wages, nor waste your own substance in riotous living; that you were to attend two services on Sunday, and, if extraordinarily devout, the church prayer-meeting on Thursday night. So far they were all agreed. In minor matters there was some difference of opinion. Mr. Crabbe considered that it also meant that you were not to dance; Mrs. Crabbe was not assured upon the subject, nor were Gertrude and Maria. Temptation was sometimes too strong for them, and on such occasions they came home with a painful heaviness at heart, uncertain wheth-pid while the body waked? Was he drawing, er they had sinned or innocently enjoyed themselves. Cecy could not see the harm, but chose to be on the safe side, and resolutely refrained, sure of thus pleasing best her earthly father at any rate. Religion further meant, with the Crabbes, the contribution of considerable sums to various authorized benevolent enterprises. Every Crabbe was a life-member in some Home or Foreign Mission or Bethel Society, the attestations whereof, handsomely framed, were distributed, by way of ornament, through the bedrooms of the house. It was not considered to forbid the gift of a pair of chickens to your washer-woman at Christmas, or kind offices to the poor in general, but these were held as quite secondary matters, and rather belonging to the barren realm of "works." In this religious system a good deal was taken for granted. It was assumed that all partakers of its benefits had passed from darkness into light; from death unto life; from the bondage of sin to the glorious liberty of children of God. Considering the momentous nature of these changes it is surprising how little effect they had, or were

Mr. Crabbe in previous illness had availed himself of all these privileges; had gone, so to speak, the full length of his tether. But now he was strangely different; easily satisfied, seldom suggesting any fresh comfort or convenience, disposed rather to listless quiet than his usual caged restlessness. This of itself alarmed his wife. Then the physician began to come twice a day; there were anxious faces in the household, and dread forebodings of something too terrible to happen. Lower the patient sank and lower. What was he thinking of in those long, silent days when he lay passively staring with blank eyes at the wall opposite? Or was the mind tor

They

dull and unheeding, toward the solemn end? The
hours passed on, measured by potion or nourish-
ment; the children came and went, noiselessly,
each filling in her turn the post of nurse.
looked with questioning awe at the pale face
among the pillows; that awe which steals over
us when the form, linked with all that was famil-
iar, everyday, in our existence, begins to take to
itself something of the remoteness of the great
Hereafter; seems to belong there rather than
here.

One night Mrs. Crabbe sat by the fire alone. It was late; all the house had long since gone to rest. Watchers in sick-rooms can recall these midnight vigils; the solemn stillness, through which eye and ear wait anxiously the slightest movement; the white bed with its pale, helpless tenant; and thought, busy every where, running back into the Past with longing, forward into the Future with trembling and with fear.

A slight movement called this watcher to the bedside. The invalid looked at her with large, solemn eyes, in which she saw a new expression