better taste."

And rarely has a bride looked sweeter than did Melvina Fenton on her
wedding-day. Still, she was eclipsed by Caroline, whose native grace
accorded so well with her simple attire, that whoever looked upon
her, looked again, and to admire. The "sensation" they created was
not soon forgotten.

Caroline was married in a week after, and then the fair heroines of
our story passed from the notice of the fashionable world, and were
lost with the thousands who thus yearly desert the gay circles, and
enter the quiet sphere and sweet obscurity of domestic life.

SOMETHING FOR A COLD.

"Henry," said Mr. Green to his little son Henry, a lad in his eighth
year, "I want you to go to the store for me."

Mr. Green was a working-man, who lived in a comfortable cottage,
which he had built from money earned from honest industry. He was,
moreover, a sober, kind-hearted man, well liked by all his
neighbors, and beloved by his own family.

"I'm ready, father," said Henry, who left his play, and went to look
for his cap, the moment he was asked to go on an errand.

"Look in the cupboard, and get the pint flask. It's on the lower
shelf."

Henry did as desired, and then asked--"What shall I get, father?"

"Tell Mr. Brady to send me a pint of good Irish whiskey."

The boy tripped lightly away, singing as he went. He was always
pleased to do an errand for his father.

"This cold of mine gets worse," remarked Mr. Green to his wife, as
Henry left the house. "I believe I'll try old Mr. Vandeusen's
remedy--a bowl of hot whiskey-punch. He says it always cures him; it
throws him into a free perspiration, and the next morning he feels
as clear as a bell."

"It is not always good," remarked Mrs. Green, "to have the pores
open. We are more liable to take cold."

"Very true. It is necessary to be careful how we expose ourselves
afterwards."

"I think I can make you some herb-tea, that would do you as much
good as the whiskey punch," said Mrs. Green.

"Perhaps you could," returned her husband, "but I don't like your
bitter stuff. It never was to my fancy."

Mrs. Green smiled, and said no more.

"A few moments afterwards, the door opened, and Henry came in,
looking pale and frightened.

"Oh, father!" he cried, panting, "Mr. Brooks is killing Margaret!"

"What!" Mr. Green started to his feet.

"Oh!" exclaimed the child, "he's killing her! he's killing her! I
saw him strike her on the head with his fist." And t