Of all conditions in life, that of the young heiress, with her money in her own right, is peculiarly dangerous.  The truly worthy shrink often from a tender of their affection, for fear their motives may be thought interested; while the mercenary push forward, and by well-directed flattery, that does not seem like flattery, win the prize they cannot appreciate.

There are such base wretches in society.  Let those who most need to fear them be on their guard.

It is now but a few weeks since Thomas Fielding, who was despised and rejected by Margaretta, married a sweet girl in every way worthy of him.  She is not rich in worldly goods, but she is rich in virtuous principles.  The former Fielding does not need; but the latter he can cherish “as a holy prize.”

IS MARRIAGE A LOTTERY?

“I AM afraid to marry,” said a young lady, half jesting and half in earnest, replying to something a friend had said.

“Why so, Ella?” asked one of the company, who had thus far chosen rather to listen than join in the conversation of half a dozen gay young girls.  She was a quiet, matronly-looking individual, some few years past the prime of life.

“For fear of being unhappy, Mrs. Harding,” replied the first speaker.

“What an idea!” exclaimed a gay damsel, laughing aloud at the singular fear expressed by Ella.  “For my part, I never expect to be happy until I am married.”

“If marriage should make you any happier than you are now, Caroline, the result will be very fortunate.  Your case will form an exception to the rule.”

“Oh, no, Ella, don’t say that,” spoke up the one who had replied to her first remark.  “Happiness is the rule, and unhappiness the exception.”

“Then it happens strangely enough,” returned Ella, smiling, “that we are more familiar with the exceptions than the rule.”

“No, my dear, that cannot for a moment be admitted.  Far more of happiness than misery results from marriage.”

“Look at Ellen Mallory,” was answered promptly, “and Mrs. Cummings, and half a dozen others I could name.”

“The two you have mentioned are painful instances, I must admit, and form the exceptions of which I spoke; but the result is by no means one that should excite our surprise, for it is a natural consequence flowing from an adequate cause.  If you marry as unwisely as did the persons you mention, I have no doubt but you will be quite as wretched as they are—­it may be more so.”

“I am sure Mr. Mallory is an elegant-looking man,” said one of the company, “and might have had his pick among a dozen more attractive girls than ever Ellen Martine was.”

“All as thoughtless and undiscriminating as she,” remarked Mrs. Harding, quietly.

“Ellen is no fool,” returned the last speaker.

“In the most important act of her whole life, she has certainly not shown herself to be a wise woman,” said Mrs. Harding.