Her husband is fast rising, by industry and intelligence, towards the condition in life which he had previously occupied; and she is beginning again to find herself in congenial associations.

May the light of her peaceful home never again grow dim.
GOING HOME.
"IT'S nearly a year, now, since I was home," said Lucy Gray to her husband, "and so you must let me go for a few weeks." They had been married some four or five years, and never had been separated, during that time, for twenty-four hours at a time.
"I thought you called this your home," remarked Gray, looking up, with a mock-serious air.
"I mean my old home," replied Lucy, in a half-affected tone of anger.
"Or, to make it plain, I want to go and see father and mother." "Can't you wait three or four months, until I can go with you ?" asked the young husband.
"I want to go now.

You said all along that I should go in May." "I know I did.

But I thought I would be able to go with you." "Well, why can't you go?
I am sure you might, if you would." "No, Lucy, I cannot possibly leave home now.

But if you are very anxious to see the old folks, I can put you into the stage, and you will go safe enough.