“If you’ll oblige me by remaining civilly quiet, for a few minutes, I’ll tell you how I argued that point. I stated to myself that the larger women I had seen were as small ones examined through a magnifying glass, every defect being thus rendered more apparent. Now, I continued, here is a woman of the magnified size, without a single defect, and she is of course entitled to a magnified portion of admiration.” “Very good.” “And then I recollected that I was not the first who had come to such a conclusion. That Juno would not have looked the queen of Olympus had she been other than a large woman—that had the rib of Menelaus been but a small bone of contention, Troy might have been standing to this day.” “Pshaw!” said Creswell. “And that a man must have a very contracted imagination to fancy a little Venus De Medicis, a little Cleopatra or a little Mary Stuart.” About six months after this, a gentleman and lady passing, bowed to Creswell through his office window while an acquaintance was sitting with him. “A magnificent looking couple—who are they?” said the latter. “The new bride and groom, Stanley Saybrooke, and Martha Grainger, that was. By the by, I made that match.” “Indeed! how did you accomplish it?” “Just by persuading the lady to sit still for a few hours. He had a most absurd aversion to large women, and as I knew that Martha, who, in fact, is a sort of cousin of mine, would suit him exactly in other respects, I laid a plan to get him in love with her before he found out her size, so I took him to a fancy-fair, where he saw a great number of her productions, and heard a great deal of her character, and then I contrived to give him a sight of her beautiful face, having, as I said, apprised her that she would oblige me very much by keeping her seat until I gave her notice. That finished the business. He stared till he was conquered, and then the three or four extra inches became very small matters indeed.” “But now, since they are married, won’t the defects shoot up again?” “Not at all. I never saw a fellow so proud of a wife. He says that a small casket could not contain so lofty an intellect and so noble a heart!” * * * * * LE FAINEANT. BY C. V. HOFFMAN, AUTHOR OF “GREYSLAER,” “THE VIGIL OF FAITH,” ETC. “Now arouse thee, Sir Knight, from thine indolent ease, Fling boldly thy banner abroad in the breeze, Strike home for thy lady—strive hard for the prize, And thy guerdon shall beam from her love-lighted eyes!” “I shrink not the trial,” that bluff knight replied— “But I battle—not _I_—for an unwilling bride; Where the boldest may venture to do and to dare, My pennon shall flutter—my bugle peal there! “I quail not at aught in the struggle of life, I’m not all unproved even now in the strife, But the wreath that I win, all unaided—alone, Round a faltering brow it shall never be thrown!”