We were all sitting around the centre table, upon which burned a tall astral lamp, and I was getting absorbed in my letter, when suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by the breaking of the table from its centre, and the pitching over of the astral lamp, which, in falling, just grazed my side, and went down, oil and all, upon our new carpet!  An instant more, and we were in total darkness.  But, ere the light went out, a glance had revealed a scene that I shall never forget.  Our visitor, whose weight, as he tried his usual balancing experiment, had caused the slender legs of his chair to snap off short, had fallen backwards.  In trying to save himself, he had caught at the table, and wrenched that from its centre fastening.  Startled by this sudden catastrophe, my husband had sprung to his feet, grasping his chair with the intent of drawing it away, when the top of the back came off in his hand.  I saw all this at a single glance—­and then we were shrouded in darkness.

Of the scene that followed, I will not speak.  My lady readers can, (sic) witout any effort of the mind, imagine something of its unpleasant reality.  As for our visitor, when lights were brought in, he was no where to be seen.  I have a faint recollection of having heard the street door shut amid the confusion that succeeded the incident just described.

About a week afterwards, the whole of our cheap furniture was sent to auction, where it brought less than half its first cost.  It was then replaced with good articles, by good workmen, at a fair price; not one of which has cost us, to this day, a single cent for repairs.

A housekeeping friend of mine, committed, not, long since, a similar error.  Her husband could spare her a couple of hundred dollars for re-furnishing purposes; but, as his business absorbed nearly all of his time and thoughts, he left with her the selection of the new articles that were to beautify their parlors and chambers, merely saying to her: 

“Let what you get be good.  It is cheapest in the end.”

Well, my friend had set her heart on a dozen chairs, a new sofa, centre table, and “what-not,” for her parlors; and on a dressing-bureau, mahogany bedstead, and wash-stand, for her chamber, besides a new chamber carpet.  Her first visit was to the ware-rooms of one of our best cabinet makers; but, his prices completely frightened her—­for, at his rate, the articles she wanted would amount to more than all the money she had to spend, and leave nothing for the new chamber carpet.

“I must buy cheaper,” said she.

“The cheapest is generally dearest in the end,” returned the cabinet maker.

“I don’t know about that,” remarked the lady, whose thoughts did not take in the meaning of the man’s words.  “All I know is, that I can get as good articles as I desire at lower prices than you ask.”

It did not once occur to my friend, that it would be wisest to lessen the number of articles, and get the remainder of the first quality.  No; her heart covered the whole inventory at first made out, and nothing less would answer.  So she went to an auction store, and bought inferior articles at lower prices.  I visited her soon after.  She showed me her bargains, and, with an air of exultation, spoke of the cost.