THE GRANGER'S WIFE.-J. W. DONOVAN.

I know what it is to live in a cabin-a little log cabin, hid under the trees,

And feel the long days pass away in the kitchen, with hardly a chance for enjoyment and ease.

I know what it is to rise in the morning at five, or soon after, the milking to do,

And all through the day, free from frolic or laughter, to tend to my knitting or spinning for you.

I know what it is to wait at the noonday my husband's return from a newly cleared field;

And when he related how much it would pay him I was happy and proud at the thought of such yield.

I know what it is to struggle with care, to keep a warm hearth when the world looked so cold,—

And often in life I have asked it in prayer that time would return us some blessings when old.

I know what it is, when the wolf at the door howled grimly and loudly for bread,

To live upon meal till the meal was no more, then use something coarser instead.

I know what it is on a hot summer day to work like a man in the sun,

In gathering grain, or unloading the hay, and holding on late, till 'twas done.

I know what it is when our best years are past to move from a cabin and live

A few pleasant days in more modern ways;-but my life is a half-empty sieve.

It seems like a dream in waking, a gleam of happiness covered with care,

How much of its joy is mixed with alloy; how little remains to my share!

I know what it is to have looked on my life as a rainbow of beautiful hue,

When the future of love, like the angels above, was painted so holy and true.

When a girl with my mother, I foretold my fate, and wondered how else it could be

Than a garden of ease, to live and to please, and to have every. body please me.

I know what it is to have married a youth that I loved for his heart and his face;

To have seen him work on till the battle was won and poverty yielded to place.

I know what it is to see people grow rich and abundan y prosper in life ;—

But I've noticed the man who gets rich as he can, too often neglects his own wife.

I know what you mean by office and place,-by position, and profit, and trust;

But I learned, long ago, that it's sorrow to know, for they drag a man down in the dust!

And when I look back on my girlhood once more the journey of life to review,

My happiest days were in the sun's blaze, when I was so busy with you.

To be sure, I am old; but my heart is not cold,—I'd see our dear children do more;

I'd lift up a land more noble and grand than nations have known heretofore!

Away with deceit! and let us all meet as brothers, so free and content,

And all through the earth let's honor real worth, and save many millions misspent!

As mothers of toil, who helped clear the soil, I feel that our mission and range

Will be brought into play in a wonderful way to build up the power of the grange.

SCHOOLING A HUSBAND.

Mrs. Centre was jealous. She was one of those discontented women who are never satisfied unless something goes wrong. When the sky is bright and pleasant, they are annoyed because there is nothing to grumble at. The trouble is not with the outward world, but with the heart, the mind; and every one who wishes to grumble will find a subject.

Mrs. Centre was jealous. Her husband was a very good sort of person, though he probably had his peculiarities.

At any rate, he had a cousin, whose name was Sophia Smithers, and who was very pretty, very intelligent, and very amiable and kind-hearted. I dare say he occasionally made her a social call, to which his wife solemnly and seriously objected, for the reason that Sophia was pretty, intelligent, amia. ble, and kind-hearted. These were the sum total of her sins. Centre and his wife boarded at a private establishment at the South end of Boston. At the same house also boarded Centre's particular, intiraate, and confidential friend Wallis, with his wife. Their rooms might almost be said to be common ground, for the two men and the two women were constantly together.

Wallis could not help observing that Mrs. Centre watched her husband very closely, and Centre at last confessed that there had been some difficulty. So they talked the matter over together, and came to the conclusion that it was very stupid for any one to be jealous, most of all for Mrs. Centre to be jealous. What they did, I don't know, but one evening, Centre entered the room and found Mrs. Wallis there. "My dear, I am obliged to go out a few moments to call upon a friend," said Centre.

"To call upon a friend!" sneered Mrs. Centre.

“Yes, my dear, I shall be back presently;" and Mr. Centre left the room.

"The old story," said she, when he had gone.

"If it was my husband I would follow him," said Mrs. Wallis.

"I will!" and she immediately put on her bonnet and shawl. "Sophia Smithers lives very near, and I am sure he is going there."

Centre had gone up stairs to put on his hat and overcoat, and in a moment she saw him on the stairs. She could not mistake him, for there was no other gentleman in the house who wore such a peculiarly shaped Kossuth as he wore.

He passed out, and Mrs. Centre passed out after him. She followed the queer shaped Kossuth of her husband, and it led her to C- Street, where she had suspected it would lead her. And further, it led her to the house of Smithers, the father of Sophia, where she suspected also it would lead her.

Mrs. Centre was very unhappy. Her husband had ceased to love her; he loved another; he loved Sophia Smithers. She could have torn the pretty, intelligent, amiable, and kindhearted cousin of her husband in pieces at that moment; but she had the fortitude to curb her belligerent tendencies, and ring the doorbell.

She was shown into the sitting-room where the beautiful girl of many virtues was engaged in sewing.

"Is my husband here?" she demanded.

"Mr. Centre? Bless you, no! He hasn't been here for a month."

Gracious! What a whopper! Was it true that she whose multitudinous qualities had been so often rehearsed to her could tell a lie? Hadn't she seen the peculiar Kossuth of her husband enter that door? Hadn't she followed that unmistakable hat to the house?

She was amazed at the coolness of her husband's fair cousin. Before, she had believed it was only a flirtation. Now, she was sure it was something infinitely worse, and she thought about a divorce, or at least a separation.

She was astounded and asked no more questions. Did the guilty pair hope to deceive her-her, the argus-eyed wife? She had some shrewdness, and she had the cunning to conceal her purpose by refraining from any appearance of distrust. After a few words upon commonplace topics, she took her leave.

When she reached the sidewalk, there she planted herself, determined to wait till Centre came out. For more than an hour she stood there, nursing the yellow demon of jealousy. He came not. While she, the true, faithful and legal wife of Centre, was waiting on the cold pavement, shivering in the cold blast of autumn, he was folded in the arms of the black-hearted Sophia, before a comfortable coal fire.

She was catching her death a-cold. What did he carethe brute! He was bestowing his affections upon her who had no legal right to them.

The wind blew, and it began to rain. She could stand it no longer. She should die before she got the divorce, and that was just what the inhuman Centre would wish her to do. She must preserve her precious life for the present,

and she reluctantly concluded to go home. Centre had not come out, and it required a struggle for her to forego the exposure of the nefarious scheme.

She rushed into the house,-into her room. Mrs. Wallis was there still. Throwing herself upon the sofa, she wept like a great baby. Her friend tried to comfort her, but she was firmly resolved not to be comforted. In vain Mrs. Wallis tried to assure her of the fidelity of her husband. She would not listen to the words. But while she was thus weeping, Mr. Centre entered the room, looking just as though nothing had happened.

You wretch!" sobbed the lady.

"What is the matter, my dear?" coolly inquired the gentleman, for he had not passed through the battle and storm of matrimonial warfare without being able to "stand fire." "You wretch!" repeated the lady, with compound unction. "What has happened?"

"You insult me, abuse me, and then ask me what the matter is!" cried the lady. "Haven't I been waiting in Street for two hours, for you to come out of Smithers' house?"

C

"Have you?"

"I have, you wretch!"

"And I did not come out?"

"No! You know you didn't!"

"There was an excellent reason for that, my dear. I

wasn't there," said Centre, calmly.

"You wasn't there, you wretch! How dare you tell me such an abominable lie! But I have found you out. You go there every day, yes, twice, three times a day! I know your amiable cousin, now! She can lie as well as you.” "Sophia tell a lie! Oh no, my dear!"

"But she did. She said you were not there."

"That was very true; I was not.”

"How dare you tell me such a lie! You have been with Sophia all the evening. She is a nasty baggage!"

'Nay, Mrs. Centre, you are mistaken," interposed Mrs. Wallis. "Mr. Centre has been with me in this room al the evening."

"What! Didn't I see him go out and follow him to CStreet?"