"These ladies may do precisely what they please. If they choose to tempt Providence, it is no concern of mine. An ice! oh! no indeed. I know your constitution."

And with these very consolatory remarks, the gentleman parades before his wife, sipping the interdicted luxury, with tantalizing spoon, and smack most satisfactory. Nor does he hesitate to say "Excellent! upon my soul. excellent !"

most

In a few moments the orchestra commence a prelude of one of Strauss's magnificent waltzes. The lady, who is passionately fond of waltzing, accepts the arm of a young gentleman who is reputed a good waltzer, and they spin around the saloon to the admiration of the spectators; but no sooner does our attentive husband perceive the agreeable occupation of the lady than he rushes towards her, at the imminent risk of being prostrated by the throng of happy dancers, and seizing her by the arms, exclaims:

"What are you about? What are you thinking of? How fortunate I came in time to prevent the continuance of this absurdity!"

"But, my dear, you know I am passionately fond of waltzing."

"Very likely-but it does not agree with you. You will be sick to-morrow. I have consulted many medical gentlemen upon the subject, and they all assure me that waltzing is positively ruinous to ladies of a nervous temperament; so really I cannot permit it."

"But, my dear sir," ventures the young gentleman, "just a few turns."

"Once or twice round the saloon," chimes in the lady, with a supplicating air.

But the husband is inexorable. He takes his wife by the arm, leads her to a seat and throws a cloak, a mantilla, a pelisse, whatever comes to hand, over her shoulders, and then folds his arms, à la Napoleon, and surveys her with a look of tranquil triumph.

The lady dares not murmur. It would be bad taste to quarrel in public, and so as the attentive husband is the best of characters, she is looked upon by all the married women as being supremely happy. The supper hour is at hand. She has learned from the lips of her fair hostess,

that the ladies only will be seated at the table, and she anticipates a pleasant repast, free from the assiduous attentions of her husband. Alas! how futile are her hopes! About fifteen minutes before supper is announced, he cheerfully presents himself, bearing his wife's cloak, in which he carefully envelopes her beloved form, while with an affable smile, he thus addresses her: "My darling, the carriage is waiting for us at the door."

"What! are you going so soon?"

"So soon, my child! It is quite late." "But supper will be ready in a moment.” "Aha! the very reason for our going. You might be tempted to eat something—and suppers are always unhealthy, particularly for so delicate a constitution as yours. No supper for you to-night," he adds, with a cheerful chuckle. "Come, my dear, the carriage is waiting."

He draws her arm within his own-that most attentive gentleman. She could weep, like Eve upon the threshold of Paradise, as she casts a "longing, lingering look behind," upon the brilliant supper-room, now glittering and

glowing with chandeliers, and plumes, and flowers, and diamonds, and bright eyes, and happy faces. It fades like a vision, and as she enters the gloomy carriage, she silently records a vow to live henceforth the life of a nun, and give up dinner-parties, balls, and all festivities. Can a woman be happy with an Attentive Husband? Happily the species is quite rare.

We will proceed, ladies and gentlemen, to exhibit another specimen of married humanity, whose title, in the language of his natural enemy, the housemaid, is

THE BETTY.

A man is born a Betty, as he is a genius, mechanician, musician, poet, or financier. The Betty may adore his wife and children, be an honourable man of business, and acquit himself of all those duties which society imposes, but his home will be disagreeable.

Breakfast is served. The wife takes up the morning paper, while she sips her coffee, and our domestic gentleman amuses himself by making toast. For a few moments he is absorbed

in silent contemplation of the glowing embers, but in a short time he calls the attention of his wife, and says, "did you put a stick of wood on the fire last evening, after I went out ?”

"A stick of wood, my dear? What did you say?"

"I was not talking Hebrew, I believe. When I went out last evening, at nine o'clock, there were two sticks on the fire, a large and small one-enough to last til bed-time. I don't want to prevent your having as much fire as you please, but I want to keep an exact account; for this morning I found three brands. Now, how could there be three brands if you did not burn a third stick?"

"Ah! my dear, how vexatious you are, sometimes. I may or may not have put on more wood. I am trying to read an article which interests me, and you must needs interrupt me about a paltry stick of wood!"

The domestic gentleman is silent, and contents himself with whistling to himself in a low tone, a thing which he is in the habit of doing, when he is dissatisfied with a reply.