“The wedding breakfast is served and Kitty, (or Kathryn as she calls herself), is married in the white satin. She begins life in a showy, tiny house, chiefly furnished with her wedding presents. She has no comfortable underclothing or bedding, and not a dollar in her pocket. But Kathryn has her ‘receiving days,’ and is careful to order her cakes and café frappé from the caterer who is patronized by the millionaire who employs her husband.” Not what would we like, and what can we afford? but, “What do other people do, and what would they think did we do otherwise?”—is the sentiment which controls the preparation of the young people, in all grades of society, in their beginning life together. How refreshing to find occasionally a father and mother who care little what “they say,” and who equip their daughters as becomes their station in life, and their means, regardless of what others about them are doing. Wedding presents are a happy reminder of a happy occasion, but they often prove a snare in the demand for surroundings that are beyond the means of the recipients. “These are such very pretty and nice things that we really must have pretty things to go with them,” is the thought of the young people, and in setting up much more is spent than they can afford, and they are handicapped by debt, and harassed by worry at the outset; and what should be the happiest and most care-free time of their life is spoiled by this hydra-headed intruder, debt. It is but a repetition of the old story of the good woman, who must have a new pair of andirons. When they were set up in the best room in all their shiny newness, a new carpet was a thing of necessity. This was followed by new chairs to keep countenance with the carpet; then curtains, walls and all must be transformed and little wonder that the good man was appalled at the cost of one pair of inoffensive andirons. “Living does not really need so much machinery,” is a trite and true sentiment. Oh for a blessed contentment that will make us happy with that which we can with propriety have. The trouble begins, but does not end, with the trousseau of the bride. If the means of both parties are moderate, why attempt to copy the style and quantity of those who are not obliged to count their dollars? A simple substantial outfit, with nothing that shall not be useful, and suited to the surroundings and station of the bride and groom, is an evidence of good sense and commendable taste. Some one has said wisely, “There are no real distinctions among us, and there cannot be unless we change our republic into a monarchy. Rank is a real possession of the Englishmen, but we do not own it and never did, and in trying to set up a sham, pinchbeck imitation of it, we are losing the solid strength and repose and wealth out of our lives.”