“Why silly? If seeing me at home might destroy your respect, it was quite wise to send me into banishment,” he remarked, playfully. “But I could not have done so, I am sure, now,” she replied, earnestly. “Have you really sufficient faith in any man to believe him free from the faults which I have so often heard you impute to the whole sex?” The question was put in a jesting tone, but Arthur listened eagerly for her reply. “Your father’s constant politeness has overcome all those foolish prejudices. I do believe that his son may resemble him.” “Would you dare to trust your happiness to the keeping of that son?” he asked, with tender earnestness. “I should,” she replied with characteristic promptness, while a tear glistened in her eye. “Then why may not this place henceforth be your home. My mother already loves you dearly, and my father’s approbation sanctions my suit.” Ariana’s consent was easily won to this proposition, and then Arthur went to announce his own arrival to the family circle, while she stole to her apartment to compose her agitated heart. Mrs. Daley insisted that Ariana should remain with her a month previous to her marriage, and then Mrs. Dormer pleaded for a visit of equal length. Andrew would have been quite out of humor at her loss, were it not for the pleasure of hearing that she had given up her rebellious thoughts as to man’s supremacy. The professor was so much ameliorated by Jane’s more prudent conduct, that he presented the bride elect with a set of very dry books, in token of regard for her choice. Mr. Dormer made her many valuable gifts, though his manner of bestowing favors almost neutralized the pleasure which he otherwise would have conferred. Ariana Huntingdon has been for many years a happy wife. Arthur Grayson has found that well regulated wit and cheerful independence, heighten domestic life; and Ariana asserts that men deserve the title of Lords of Creation, and that her Arthur, to be fully appreciated, must be seen “at Home.” * * * * * THE FEAR OF DEATH. BY MARY L. LAWSON. It is not that I shrink to yield My soul to God, whose claim is just; I know my spirit is his own, And that this human frame is dust; To Him my higher powers I owe, The light of mind, the faith of love; Too mean the service of a life My ceaseless gratitude to prove; But still I pause in mortal fear, For life is sweet—and death is drear. The ties that bound me close to earth With deep affection’s tender chain, Were severed by his sovereign will, And tears and agony were vain; And blighted hope and withering care Their shadows o’er my soul have cast; And sunny dreams, that fancy wove Of rainbow hues, too soon have past; But still I pause in mortal fear, And life is sweet—and death is drear.