They talk about Mrs. Veneer’s parties, and there be now those born in the purple who are pleased to find them amusing, and it is said that next season Mrs. Vere Veneer will be presented at Court by her friend Lady Snooks—for a consideration. And who knows but in a few years Mrs. Vere Veneer may be actually received within Court circles, and play hostess to the most illustrious? And, in the meanwhile, what of Mr. Vere Veneer? Is there a Mr. Vere Veneer? you doubtless ask, with most people. Oh, yes; he is not much to look at, he is rather _gauche_ in his manner, and cannot wear even Poole’s clothes to look as though they were made for him, and his conversation is not very entertaining. But he pays the bills with prompt satisfaction, he tries hard to look as though he were leading the happiest life in the world, and he rejoices in his wife’s successes, and cherishes every smile she spares him; but when he can find an excuse to visit the mills in the Midlands, he does not hesitate to avail himself of it. However, as he does not know one from the other of the young men who follow in his wife’s train, or of the women who are jealous of her gowns, or of the Bohemians who make themselves at home in his house, and as none of these ever seem to know him from Adam, he is satisfied to watch the comedy as a spectator, content so long as his wife plays her part well, and is duly applauded. If he appears on the programme at all it is simply as “the husband of Mrs. Vere Veneer.” _THE DOMESTIC WOMAN_ I once heard a woman, whose only care in life was the effect she produced on her social surroundings, contemptuously describe Mrs. Hearthside as “a dull person who sits at home making flannel petticoats for the children, gives her husband his slippers, and has an egg with her afternoon tea.” And, it is true, she does all this, and more. But I knew Mrs. Hearthside before domestic drudgery claimed her for its own; when she was a young romantic girl, to whom life presented a symphony of sweet possibilities.