As soon as the girl had gone, my mamma told me that I was about to take an awful step, and that she hoped and trusted that it would all turn out happily. But that there was one thing that she felt it was her duty, upon my entrance into life as it were, to warn me against--one thing, on which alone domestic happiness could be built--one thing, on which I should find my comfort depended more than any other--one thing, in fact, which might strew either my path with roses, or my bed with thorns. And then she asked me what I thought this one thing was? Probably I might think she meant my husband--but no! it was something of far more consequence to me than that. Or I might think she meant fortune, or economy, or my offspring--(if I were destined to be so blessed.) It was none of these, she told me--nor was it amiability of temper, or a proper pride in appearance, or marital constancy--no! these had but a trifling connexion with the peace and quiet of my future domestic life compared with that which she alluded to. In a word, she said, I should find the key-stone to all my future welfare rested upon those I should have about me. She referred to--servants. It was only by the proper management of them, she said, that I could ever expect to taste happiness; and she warned me not to govern with a light hand, but to do as she had done, and which, she assured me, was the only way of making them respect and obey me, and that was, to rule with a rod of iron. And then, telling me that her words ought to be printed in letters of gold, she bade me dry up my tears and resume my work. Ha-ah!--Little did I then--giddy, inexperienced child that I was--see the value of the jewels that fell from dear mamma’s mouth; but in my happy innocence I inwardly set them down as the words of one whose naturally sweet disposition had been soured in her dealings with this empty world. Had I but treasured up her truths in my heart, I should not have suffered as I have. (But more of this hereafter.) It was not until nearly midnight that we had finished my wedding garment; and when I retired to rest, I did so with a fluttering heart; and laying my head on my pillow, I said to myself--“Ah! poor Caroline! fond, foolish girl, what a plunge art thou about to make into the Book of Fate! To-morrow!--to-morrow!” The occurrences of that day I will reserve for another chapter. * * * * *