The truth flashed on the father’s mind,
      The truth in all its power,
    “There is a God, my child,” said he,
      “Who made that little flower.”

ANNE CLEAVELAND.

Anne was the daughter of a wealthy farmer.  She had a good New England school education, and was well bred and well taught at home in the virtues and manners that constitute domestic social life.  Her father died a year before her marriage.  He left a will dividing his property equally between his son and daughter, giving to the son the homestead with all its accumulated riches, and to the daughter the largest share of the personal property, amounting to 6 or 7000 dollars.  This little fortune became at Anne’s marriage the property of her husband.  It would seem that the property of a woman received from her father should be her’s.  But the laws of a barbarous age fix it otherwise.

Anne married John Warren, who was the youngest child, daintily bred by his parents.  He opened a dry goods store in a small town in the vicinity of B——­, where he invested Anne’s property.  He was a farmer, and did not think of the qualifications necessary to a successful merchant.  For five or six years he went on tolerably, living genteelly and recklessly, expecting that every year’s gain would make up the excess of the past.  When sixteen years of their married life had passed, they were living in a single room in the crowded street of R——.  Every penny of the inheritance was gone—­three children had died—­three survived; a girl of fifteen years, whom the mother was educating to be a teacher—­boy of twelve who was living at home, and Jessy, a pale, delicate, little struggler for life, three years old.

Mrs. W——­ was much changed in these sixteen years.  Her round blooming cheek was pale and sunken, her dark chestnut hair had become thin and gray, her bright eyes, over-tasked by use and watching, were faded, and her whole person shrunken.  Yet she had gained a great victory.  Yes, it was a precious pearl.  And you will wish to know what it was.  It was a gentle submission and resignation—­a patience under all her afflictions.  But learn a lesson.  Take care to whom you give your hand in marriage.

THE ORPHAN’S VOYAGE.

Two little orphan boys, whose parents died in a foreign land, were put on board a vessel to be taken home to their relatives and friends.  On a bitter cold night, when the north-east winds sang through the shrouds of the vessel, the little boys were crouched on deck behind a bale of goods, to sleep for the night.  The eldest boy wrapt around his younger brother his little cloak, to shield him from the surf and sleet, and then drew him close to his side and said to him, “the night will not be long, and as the wind blows we shall the sooner reach our home and see the peet fire glow.”  So he tried to cheer his little brother, and told him to go to sleep and forget