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Asia, in the rapturous love-songs and of his self-sought labor, returned thanks splendid tales of Arabia. But it is suffi- to each. Frossart made a collection of cient to say, that seclusion or slavery is amorous poetry by "the aid of God and the condition of Oriental women. And, love." And Boccaccio acknowledges the perhaps, this is another argument assistance of each in his Decameron. against an eastern origin of the Round When Louis II., Duke of Bourbon, instiTable romances. It cannot be denied, tuted the order of the Golden Shield, he however, that the Roman law, the cus- enjoined his knights above all to honor toms of the northern nations, and the the ladies, and not permit any one to spread of Christianity, all had something slander them, "because from them, after to do in preparing the way for this more God, comes all the honor men can acmodern phase of society. Just when it quire." first began to appear, it is impossible to tell. Probably when, the wars all over, the young noble, weary of the monotonous sports of peace, turned for relief in his gay idleness to the successes of love and the adventures of intrigue; when the high-born beauty was brought in to grace the banquet-hall, and, to show her something of war about which she had heard so much, mimic battles were fought; and so arose the tournament, at which she was queen and dispensed her favors.

But, however this may have been, it concerns us now to know only that the first embodiment of this spirit in literature is found in the romances of chivalry. And here, to prevent misapprehension, it may be said again, that the condition of society and the opinions of the people mould a literature; but it in turn powerfully reacts and forms anew public sentiment and national habits, giving them an impetus which sends them at a bound far on in the direction in which they were but slowly and feebly tending. So we conceive it to have been in this case.

So prominent a feature of the institution of chivalry did gallantry become, that it was regarded in the same light as devotion, or rather as one with it. Love to God and love to the ladies were scarcely distinguishable. The knight invoked the aid of both, as he rode forth to the adventurous task imposed upon him by some haughty beauty, whose smile was to repay him for the toil of months and the risk of life. The author, at the end

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But this spirit went farther than this. It entered into legal enactments. some districts, a man could not be arrested in the presence of a woman for a crime less than murder. This was the law promulgated by James Second of Aragon: "We will that every man, whether knight or no, who shall be in company with a lady, pass safe and unmolested, unless he be guilty of murder."

At every tournament, the knights who were to engage, first dined together. In order that there should be no place more honorable than another, the table was made round; for those high-mettled gentlemen, about to enter the lists where limb and life were risked for honor, would yield precedence to no one who had not won it at the point of the spear. Thus Edward Third, in 1344, gave an entertainment at Windsor, at which he and his guests sat down to a round table 200 feet in diameter. This was thought to surpass very much that which Mortimer, his martial tutor, had given in 1280, when he feasted 100 knights for three days.

Can we not trace to the teachings of chivalry that punctilious regard for conventional honor, which, when it thought itself wounded, has, until so recently, sought that foolish and false method of redress that, happily, has now passed away?

To trace the influence of these wonderful romances on the Literature of Europe, will require a separate paper.

OUT OF THE WRONG POCKET.

MR. TAGGARD frowned as he observed the pile of bills by his plate, placed there

by his prudent, economical wife, not with-
out an anxious flutter at the heart, in an

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ticipation of the scene that invariably followed. He actually groaned as he read the sum total.

"There must be some mistake, Mary," he said, pushing back his plate, with a desperate air; "it is absolutely impossible for us to have used all these things in one month!"

"The bills are correct, John," was the meek response; " I looked them over myself."

"Then one thing is certain, provisions are either wasted-thrown out of the window, as it were-or stolen! Jane has relatives in the place, and I haven't the least doubt but that she supports them entirely out of what she steals!"

Mrs. Taggard's temper was evidently rising; there were two round, crimson spots upon her cheeks, and she tapped her foot nervously upon the floor.

"I am neither wasteful, nor extravagant, John. And as for Jane, I know her to be perfectly honest and trustworthy."

It is evident that there is a leak somewhere, Mary; and it is your duty, as a wife, to find out where it is, and stop it. Our bills are perfectly enormous; and if this sort of a thing goes on much longer, I shall be a bankrupt!"

Mrs. Taggard remained silent, trying to choke down the indignant feelings that struggled for utterance.

"You will have to order some coal," she said, at last; "we have hardly sufficient for the day."

"Is there anything more, Mrs. Taggard?" inquired her husband, ironically. "Yes; neither myself, nor the children are decently or comfortably clothed; all need an entire new outfit."

“Go on, madam. As I am a man of unlimited means, if you have any other wants, I hope you won't be at all backward about mentioning 'em."

"I don't intend to be," was the quiet, but spirited reply. "I wouldn't do for another what I do for you, for double my board and clothing. Both the parlor and sitting-room need re-furnishing; everything looks so faded and shabby, that I am ashamed to have any one call.

the stairs need re-carpeting, the blinds and
gate repaired, and the fence painted."
"That can't be all, Mrs. Taggard. Are
you sure that there isn't something else?"
"I don't think of, anything just now,
Mr. Taggard; though if there should be a
few dollars over and above what these
will cost, they won't come amiss. I should
like to have a little change in my pocket,
if only for the novelty of the thing. You
needn't fear its being wasted."

Mr. Taggard was evidently not a little astonished at this sudden outbreak in his usually quiet and patient wife, but who, like most women of that stamp, had considerable spirit when it was aroused.

"Now that you are through, Mrs. Taggard, perhaps you will let me say a word. Here is all the money I can spare you this month; so you can make the most of it."

Laying a roll of bills on the table, Mr. Taggard walked to the door; remarking, just before he closed it, "that he should leave town on the next train, to be absent about a week."

The revery into which Mrs. Taggard fell, as she listened to the sound of his retreating steps, was far from being a pleasant one. Aside from her natural vexation, she felt grieved and saddened by the change that had come over her once kind, indulgent husband. His miud seemed to be entirely filled with the greed of gain, the desire to amass money-not for the sake of the good that it might enable him to enjoy, or confer, but for the mere pleasure of hoarding it. And this miserly feeling grew upon him daily, until he seemed to grudge his family the common comforts of life. And yet Mrs. Taggard knew that he was not only in receipt of a comfortable income from his business, but had laid by a surplus, yearly, ever since their marriage.

She taxed her ingenuity to save in every possible way, but when the monthly bills were presented the same scene was enacted, only it grew worse and worse.

And this penuriousness extended to himself. He grudged himself, as well as his wife and children, clothing suitable to And his means and station, and went about

looking so rusty and shabby that Mrs. Taggard often felt ashamed of him, inwardly wondering if he could be the same man who had wooed and won her.

With a heavy sigh Mrs. Taggard took up the roll of bills upon the table, hoping to find enough to pay what was already due-she did not look for more.

An ejaculation of astonishment burst from her lips as she unrolled the paper in which it was folded. It contained $500 in bills, and a check for $500 more.

With a look of quiet determination in her eyes, Mrs. Taggard arose to her feet. "The family should now have some of the comforts to which they were entitled, if they never did again."

First, she settled every bill; a heavy weight being lifted from her heart as she did so; besides getting a fresh supply of fuel and other comforts. Her next move was to order new furniture for the sittingroom and parlor, have the hall re-carpeted and papered, the broken door-step mended, and the fence and blinds paint ed and repaired. She then took the children out, and got them new garments, from hats to shoes. She bought herself three new dresses; a neat gingham for morning wear, a delaine for afternoons, and something nicer for best. And before going home she took the children into a toy-shop; delighting the boy with the skates he had so often asked for, and giving the girl the chief wish of her heart, a doll and doll's wardrobe-not forgetting some blocks for the baby. For like a wise, as well as kind mother, Mrs. Taggard desired to make their childhood a happy one; something to look back upon with pleasure through their whole after-life. Neither was John forgotten; by the aid of some old garments, for a pattern, she got him an entire new suit, together with stuff for dressing-gown and slippers.

The day on which Mrs. Taggard expected her husband's return was a very busy one; but at last the carpets were down, the paper hung, and everything in "apple-pie order."

He was expected on the five o'clock train, and Mrs. Taggard set the children, attired in their pretty new dresses, at the

window to "watch for papa," while she went below to assist Jane in preparing something extra for supper. She had but just returned when Mr. Taggard was seen approaching the house.

It looked so different from what it did when he left, that he stared at it in amazement, and would have hesitated about entering, had it not been for the name on the newly burnished door-plate. But he was still more astonished when he entered.

"Am I in my own house, or somebody's else?" he ejaculated, as he looked around the bright and pleasant room. "It is the new furniture I have been buying," said his wife, smiling. "How do you like it?"

"Have you been running me in debt, Mary?"

"Not in the least, John; it was all bought with the money you so generously left me when you went away."

Mr. Taggard clapped his hand into one of his pockets.

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"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, in an agitated tone and manner, I gave it to you out of the wrong pocket!"

Mrs. Taggard did not look at all astonished or disturbed at this announcement; on the contrary, her countenance wore a very smiling and tranquil aspect.

"You don't mean to say that you've spent it?" inquired Mr. Taggard, desperately.

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'Why, what else should I do with it, John? You told me to make the most of it; and I rather think I have."

"I am a ruined man!" groaned Mr. Taggard.

"Not a bit of it, my dear husband," said his wife, cheerfully; "you wouldn't be ruined if you had given me twice that amount. Besides, I have saved enough for our house-keeping expenses for three months, at least. I think you had better give me an allowance for that purpose in future; it will save us both much annoyance."

The children, who had been led to consider what their mother had bought them, as "presents from papa," now crowded eagerly around him.

Mr. Taggard loved his children, and it would be difficult for any one having the kind and tender heart that he really possessed, to turn away from the innocent smiles and caresses that were lavished upon him.

And when his wife approached with the dressing-gown and slippers, he not only allowed her to induct him into them, but returned the loving caress with which she assured him "that he looked as young and handsome as ever."

comfortable, on the whole, to use a common but expressive phrase, "it paid."

We do not mean to say that Mr. Taggard was entirely cured; a passion so strong is not so easily eradicated. But when the old miserly feeling came over him, and he began to dole out grudgingly the means with which to make his family comfortable, his wife would laughingly say: "You are taking it out of the wrong pocket, John!"-words which seemed to have a magical effect upon both heart and purse-strings.

"Let us take comfort as we go along," she would often say, as she laid her cheek lovingly to his; "nor grudge our children the innocent pleasures natural to youth, for the purpose of laying up for them the wealth that is, too often, a curse rather

It was a smiling group that gathered round the cheerful supper-table. And as Mr. Taggard glanced from the gleeful children to the smiling face of his wife, who certainly looked ten years younger, attired in her new and becoming dress, he came to the conclusion that though it might cost something to make his family than a blessing."

SUNNYBANK PAPERS.
No. I.

BY MARION HARLAND.

WHY, WHEN, AND HOW WE BUILT OUR house.

"ONE thing is settled in my mind," said the Dominie, with an unnecessary clench of a jaw Nature had moulded firmly enough for all the common exigencies of life; "we will have no door-bell!"

of what stern stuff the hearts of the hills were made. Behind us, the ground rose somewhat abruptly to the highway under a growth of noble forest trees. The knoll was the centre of an open space, a natural clearing covered with wild grasses and cinquefoil, and dotted by thrifty cedars. Hemlock and pine, hickory, tulip-tree, and butternut, joined aromatic and nutty odors to the vanilla-scent of new-mown hay, that came to us in slow, delicious sighs of summer air. There was no breeze, and few sounds stirred the languorous repose of the day-only the drowsy lapping of the water, an occasional roulade from the throat of robin or thrush in the grove, the far-off caw of a crow, and, when our ears learned to distinguish itfrom the murmur of the waterfall, a measured vibration of the atmosphere-felt more than heard-which my complainer explained by saying: "How distinctly we hear the beat of the great trip-hammer at the file-works!"

The knoll on which we sat fell gently away on three sides toward an artificial lake, a mile across at its utmost width, formed by the damming up of the winding river half a mile below, for manufacturing purposes. Blue as the tender June heavens above it, and as placid, it slept now, without current as without ripple, we might have thought, but for the lap of the waves upon the narrow line of gravelly beach, and their rustling murmur among the border of aquatic plants-Indian arrow, wild balsam, Iris flag, and yellow water-lilies, all interlaced by golden chains of "love-vine" that grew thickly further down the bank. On the thither shore were level harvest-fields-it was haying-time; here and there a white farm-house, and back of these, to the north, east, south, and west, range after range of mountains, greenly wooded to their tops, save where a butting front of gray rock, a steep cliff, or line of boulders pushed boldly into sight, to betray, But my comparisons were not applaud

"It is like the swing of an aerial pendulum," replied I, dreamily.

"Or the echo of the pulsing life in the working-day world."

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'That way madness lies!'" quoth I, mildly reproachful. "Why speak of it, now and here?"

For know, O reader, that we have a house in the city which, by a manful stretch of the imagination and a conventional abuse of words, we call "home," for nine months of the year. A comfortable edifice it is-roomy and well furnished, and which would be cheerful were not one of its essential appendages a doorbell, in the chamber of which hangs-not the inanimate clapper the maker of this particular nuisance-I hope I owe him no ill-will-pretended to put there, but a malicious gnome, set for the destruction of our domestic felicity and individual peace of mind. Of what avail were it to write here of the morning naps, the last drops pressed from Somnus' poppy-cups, and, like the creamy rills that brim the dairymaid's pail, the richest and sweetest —that are changed from delight to dismay by the pitiless alarum of daily cares, daily toils, and daily vexations, as expressed in the reverberant clang of this tormentor? Of the midnight deeps of sleep riven by the same? The trials of temper and charity; the weary misanthropy; the struggles for patience and grace, that are ours, the while the unmerciful tongue goes on with its regular day's work?

Day's work! Do you enter into the meaning of that when spoken in connection with a parsonage door-bell in the heart of a busy and populous city? "Thirteen times already, and it is not yet nine o'clock!" sighed the still breakfastless Dominie, one morning, just before our summer exodus. "How long can a man, with nerves and a stomach, support existence in these circumstances, I wonder?"

Reversing David's plaint, we are constrained to cry out, "If it were friends who did this, then we could bear it!" But the frittering of our time, and friction of our patience is the work of a very different class from those to whom we unclose our hearts with our doors. There is a magnetic influence in that dreadful bell that draws up our steps a string of beggars-if not in the motley garb described by Mother Goose, yet clad in pretensions as varied, and as ludicrous in their heterogeneity as the "rags, tags, and velvet gowns."

Applicants for signatures to every conceivable description of certificate and petition, from a recommendation of a patent tooth-pick to a remonstrance against the adulteration of distilled liquors, and an humble entreaty to the President of the United States in behalf of a convicted traitor and would-be assassin. Petty venders of divers wares from wooden butter-paddles up to smuggled laces and diamond (?) jewelry. Old clothes-men, volunteer house-cleaners, men and women in quest of employment and broken victuals, cadaverous personages, with dingy white cravats, who may be, as they represent, home-missionaries, whose names have by some typographical blunder been omitted from our clergy-list, but who insist upon a hearing from the Dominie's pulpit on next Sunday, and a collection in his church. Reduced gentlewomen from a distance, who used to be Southern refugees, but are now invariably the widows of Union soldiers, and want to be "sent on" to Chicago, or Canada, or Nova Scotia, where they have wealthy relatives; and who so able to pay their travellingexpenses as the long-suffering, muchbelieving, tender-hearted Dominie? Speech-soliciting committees, clamorous in their desire that the over-taxed pastor shall for once leave the legitimate practice of his profession and address a mass railroad meeting, or advocate the beauties of the Woman's Suffrage movement, in some hamlet fifty miles away. News. paper reporters, begging for a succinct report of a religious anniversary celebra

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