Mr. Taggard clapped his hand into one of his pockets. "My goodness!" 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. "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 housekeeping 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. 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 comfortable, on the whole, 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 pleasantly 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 not deprive ourselves of the comforts of life," she would often say, "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 than a blessing." AN INFINITE GIVER. Think you, when the stars are glinting, Or the moonlight's shimmering gleam Paints the water's rippled surface With a coat of silvered sheen-- Think you then that God, the Painter, Shows his masterpiece divine? That he will not hang another Of such beauty on the line? Think you, when the air is trembling With the birds' exultant song, And the blossoms, mutely fragrant, Strive the anthem to prolong-- Think you then that their Creator, At the signal of his word, Fills the earth with such sweet music As shall ne'er again be heard?