young ladies' eyes according to the gentleman's
perception of their charms. And heroes differ from one another,
according as the pronouns "mine and thine," may be pre-fixed to his
title.

"And such a bijou of a house as I mean to have," continued Angila,
with animation. "The back parlor and dining-room shall open into a
conservatory, where I shall have any quantity of canary-birds--"

"My dear," interrupted her mother, "what nonsense you do talk."

"Why, mamma," said Angila, opening her eyes very wide, "don't you like
canaries?"

"Yes, my dear," replied her mother, "I don't object to aviaries or
conservatories, only to your talking of them in this way, as matters
of course and necessity. They are all very well for rich people."

"Well, then, I mean to be rich," continued Angila, playfully.

"That's the very nonsense I complain of," said her mother. "It's
barely possible, but certainly very improbable, Angila, that you ever
should be rich; and considering you have been used to nothing of the
kind, it really amuses me to hear you talk so. Your father and I have
lived all our lives very comfortably and happily, Angila, without
either aviary or conservatory, and I rather think you will do the
same, my love."

"Your father and I!" What a falling off was there! for although Angila
loved her father and mother dearly, she could not imagine herself
intent upon household occupations, an excellent motherly woman some
thirty years hence, any more than that her _beau ideal_ should wear
pepper and salt like her father.

"It was all very well for papa and mamma," but to persuade a girl of
eighteen that she wants no more than her mother, whose heart happens
to be like Mrs. Mervale, just then full of a new carpet that Mr.
Mervale is hesitating about affording, is out of the question.

And, unreasonable as it may be, whoever would make a young girl more
rational, destroys at once the chief charm of her youth--the
exuberance of her fresh imagination, that gilds not only the future,
but throws a rosy light upon all surrounding objects. Her visions, I
grant you, are absurd, but the girl without visions is a clod of the
valley, for she is without imagination--and without imagination, what
is life? what is love?

Never fear that her visions will not be fulfilled, and therefore bring
disappointment--for the power carries the pleasure with it. The same
gift that traces the outline, fills up the sketch. The girls who dream
of heroe