Lizzy has never yet had cause to repent of her voyage to America.  The money she received for managing the dairy of the old farmer, added to what her husband could save from his salary, after accumulating for some years, was at length applied to the purchase of a farm, the produce of which, sold yearly in New York, leaves them a handsome annual surplus over and above their expenses.  Thomas Ward is in a fair way of becoming a substantial and wealthy farmer.

MARRYING A TAILOR.

“KATE, Kate!” said Aunt Prudence, shaking her head and finger at the giddy girl.

“It’s true, aunt.  What! marry a tailor?  The ninth part of a man, that doubles itself down upon a board, with thimble, scissors, and goose!  Gracious!”

“I’ve heard girls talk before now, Kate; and I’ve seen them act, too; and, if I am to judge from what I’ve seen, I should say that you were as likely to marry a tailor as anybody else.”

“I’d hang myself first!”

“Would you?”

“Yes, or jump into the river.  Do any thing, in fact, before I’d marry a tailor.”

“Perhaps you would not object to a merchant tailor?”

“Perhaps I would, though!  A tailor’s a tailor, and that is all you can make of him.  ‘Merchant tailor!’ Why not say merchant shoemaker, or merchant boot-black?  Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“Ah well, Kate,” said Aunt Prudence, “you may be thankful if you get an honest, industrious, kind-hearted man for a husband, be he a tailor or a shoemaker.  I’ve seen many a heart-broken wife in my day whose husband was not a tailor.  It isn’t in the calling, child, that you must look for honour or excellence, but in the man.  As Burns says—­’The man’s the goud for a’ that.’”

“But a man wouldn’t stoop to be a tailor.”

“You talk like a thoughtless, silly girl, as you are, Kate.  But time will take all this nonsense out of you, or I am very much mistaken.  I could tell you a story about marrying a tailor, that would surprise you a little.”

“I should like, above all things in the world, to hear a story of any interest, in which a tailor was introduced.”

“I think I could tell you one.”

“Please do, aunt.  It would be such a novelty.  A very rara avis, as brother Tom says.  I shall laugh until my sides ache.”

“If you don’t cry, Kate, I shall wonder,” said Aunt Prudence, looking grave.

“Cry? oh, dear!  And all about a tailor!  But tell the story, aunt.”

“Some other time, dear.”

“Oh, no.  I’m just in the humour to hear it now.  I’m as full of fun as I can stick, and shall need all this overflow of spirits to keep me up while listening to the pathetic story of a tailor.”

“Perhaps you are right, Kate.  It may require all the spirits you can muster,” returned Aunt Prudence, in a voice that was quite serious.  “So I will tell you the story now.”