Marygold family--such connection, from his standing in society,
being especially desirable.

At the very time the young man was thus alluded to by Mrs. Marygold
and her daughter, he sat conversing with his mother upon a subject
that seemed, from the expression of his countenance, to be of much
interest to him.

"So you do not feel inclined to favor any preference on my part
towards Miss Marygold?" he said, looking steadily into his mother's
face.

"I do not, Henry," was the frank reply.

"Why not?"

"There is something too common about her, if I may so express
myself."

"Too common! What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that there is no distinctive character about her. She is,
like the large mass around us, a mere made-up girl."

"Speaking in riddles."

"I mean then, Henry, that her character has been formed, or made up,
by mere external accretions from the common-place, vague, and often
too false notions of things that prevail in society, instead of by
the force of sound internal principles, seen to be true from a
rational intuition, and acted upon because they are true. Cannot you
perceive the difference?"

"O yes, plainly. And this is why you use the word 'common,' in
speaking of her?"

"The reason. And now my son, can you not see that there is force in
my objection to her--that she really possess any character
distinctively her own, that is founded upon a clear and rational
appreciation of abstractly correct principles of action?"

"I cannot say that I differ from you very widely," the young man
said, thoughtfully. "But, if you call Melinda 'common,' where shall
I go to find one who may be called 'uncommon?'"

"I can point you to one."

"Say on."

"You have met Fanny Clayton?"

"Fanny Clayton!" ejaculated the young man, taken by surprise, the
blood rising to his face. "O yes, I have met her."

"She is no common girl, Henry," Mrs. Florence said, in a serious
voice. "She has not her equal in my circle of acquaintances."

"Nor in mine either," replied the young man, recovering himself.
"But you would not feel satisfied to have your son address Miss
Clayton?"

"And why not, pray? Henry, I have never met with a young lady whom I
would rather see your wife than Fanny Clayton."

"And I," rejoined the young man with equal warmth, "never met with
any one whom I could truly love until I saw her sweet young face."

"Then never think again of one like Melinda Marygold. You could not
be rationally ha