ncentrates herself more readily and more exclusively
on her husband,--for the obvious reason that she is obliged to live
mainly in him. I remember hearing an old friend of my early days say,
'A woman does not bear transplanting.' It does not do to trust these
old sayings, and yet they almost always have some foundation in the
experience of mankind, which has repeated them from generation to
generation. Happy is the married woman of foreign birth who can say to
her husband, as Andromache said to Hector, after enumerating all the
dear relatives she had lost,

"'Yet while my hector still survives,
I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee!'

"How many a sorrowing wife, exiled from her native country, dreams of
the mother she shall see no more! How many a widow, in a strange land,
wishes that her poor, worn-out body could be laid among her kinsfolk, in
the little churchyard where she used to gather daisies in her childhood!
It takes a great deal of love to keep down the 'climbing sorrow' that
swells up in a woman's throat when such memories seize upon her, in her
moments of desolation. But if a foreign-born woman does willingly give
up all for a man, and never looks backward, like Lot's wife, she is a
prize that it is worth running a risk to gain,--that is, if she has
the making of a good woman in her; and a few years will go far towards
naturalizing her."

The Tutor listened to Number Five with much apparent interest. "And
now," he said, "what do you think of her companion?"

"A charming girl for a man of a quiet, easy temperament. The great
trouble is with her voice. It is pitched a full note too high. It is
aggressive, disturbing, and would wear out a nervous man without his
ever knowing what was the matter with him. A good many crazy Northern
people would recover their reason if they could live for a year or two
among the blacks of the Southern States. But the penetrating, perturbing
quality of the voices of many of our Northern women has a great deal to
answer for in the way of determining love and friendship. You remember
that dear friend of ours who left us not long since? If there were more
voices like hers, the world would be a different place to live in. I do
not believe any man or woman ever came within the range of those sweet,
tranquil tones without being hushed, captivated, entranced I might
almost say, by their calming, soothing influence. Can you not imagine
the tones in which those words, 'Pea