ng her."

"She married badly?"

"Yes. That tells the whole secret of her present wretched condition.
Alas! how many a sweet girl have I seen dragged down, by a union
with some worthless wretch, undeserving the name of a man! There is
scarcely a wealthy family in our city, into which some such an one
has not insinuated himself, destroying the peace of all, and
entailing hopeless misery upon one all unfit to bear her changed
lot. The case of Flora is an extreme one. Her husband turned out to
be a drunkard, and her father's family became reduced in
circumstances, and finally every member of it either passed from
this world, or sank into a state of indigence, little above that of
her own. But the worst feature in this history of wretchedness is
the fact, that Flora, in sinking so low externally, lost that sweet
spirit of innocence which once gave a tone of so much loveliness to
her character. Her husband not only debased her condition, but
corrupted her mind. Oh, what a wreck she has become!"

"How few families there are," said I, after a few moments, "as you
have justly remarked, the happiness of which has not been destroyed
by the marriage of a much loved and fondly cherished daughter and
sister, to one all unworthy of the heart whose best affections had
been poured out upon him like water."

"The misery arising from this cause," the old man said, "is
incalculable. Nor does it always show itself in the extreme external
changes that have marked Flora T--'s sad history. I could take you
to many houses, fine houses too, and richly arrayed within, where
hearts are breaking in the iron grasp of a husband's unfeeling hand,
that contracts with a slow, torturing cruelty, keeping its victim
lingering day after day, week after week, month after month, and
year after year, looking and longing for the hour when the deep
quiet of the grave shall bring peace--sweet peace."

* * * * *

"As I thus look back through a period of some twenty, thirty, and
forty years," continued the old man, "noting the changes that have
taken place, and counting over the hopes that have been given like
chaff to the winds, I feel sad. And yet, amid all this change and
disappointment, there is much to stir the heart with feelings of
pleasure. A single instance I will relate:

"A very intimate friend, a merchant, had three daughters, to whom he
gave an education the best that could be obtained. When the eldest
was but twenty