"With whom?" asked Lucille, archly. "With you," answered Harry, trying to take her hand. "Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, playfully resisting. "Don't be so nonsensical! Don't you think the bride looked lovely, with that dress of spotless white and with those orange blossoms in her hair?" "Yes, she did; that's a fact," responded Harry. "But, Lucille, I think there is a great deal of misplaced sentiment at weddings," he added, more seriously. "How so?" "Oh, here are a couple just married, and who are as happy as happy can be; and people will crowd around them wishing much joy; but who thinks of wishing joy to the forlorn old bachelors and restless old maids?" "Well, Harry, if you want people to wish you much happiness, why don't you do as the doctor has done, get yourself a wife?" "I will," he replied, soberly, "when you say so." "Oh, Harry, don't be so absurd." "Indeed there isn't a bit of absurdity about what I say. I am in earnest." There was something in the expression of Harry's face and the tone of his voice which arrested the banter on Lucille's lips. "I think it was Charles Lamb," replied Lucille, "who once said that school-teachers are uncomfortable people, and, Harry, I would not like to make you uncomfortable by marrying you." "You will make me uncomfortable by not marrying me." "But," replied Lucille, "your mother may not prefer me for a daughter. You know, Harry, complexional prejudices are not confined to white people." "My mother," replied Harry, with an air of confidence, "is too noble to indulge in such sentiments." "And Iola, would she be satisfied?" "Why, it would add to her satisfaction. She is not one who can't be white and won't be black." "Well, then," replied Lucille, "I will take the question of your comfort into consideration." The above promise was thoughtfully remembered by Lucille till a bridal ring and happy marriage were the result. Soon after Iola had settled in C---- she quietly took her place in the Sunday-school as a teacher, and in the church as a helper. She was welcomed by the young pastor, who found in her a strong and faithful ally. Together they planned meetings for the especial benefit of mothers and children. When the dens of vice are spreading their snares for the feet of the tempted and inexperienced her doors are freely opened for the instruction of the children before their feet have wandered and gone far astray. She has no carpets too fine for the tread of their little feet. She thinks it is better to have stains on her carpet than stains on their souls through any neglect of hers. In lowly homes and windowless cabins her visits are always welcome. Little children love her. Old age turns to her for comfort, young girls for guidance, and mothers for counsel. Her life is full of blessedness.