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A Plethora of Happiness.

"Yes, truly, if he would have her healthful and happy. Did you never hear of a nobleman wood-sawyer? Lord Elgin in his Canadian home used to fell and saw trees as industriously as though he were earning his bread. He was earning health and strength, which are quite as important as bread. Do you remember a beautiful injunction, concerning labor, from the sweet singer, Fanny Osgood? I heard the lines years ago, and they have haunted me ever since; they have been to me the song of a good angel, to scare away the demon of idleness; thus they run—

"Work for some good, be it ever so slowly,
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly,
Labor! all labor is noble and holy!
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God."

"I am afraid I should offer up no prayer, if that was to be the condition," said Angelica, listlessly. "It must be very fatiguing to have the mind constantly on the stretch, and always to feel as if there was something that must be accomplished."

"Not half so tiresome as to have nothing to think of, and nothing to do; that is the most wearisome work in the world, and wins the poorest reward; an income of ennui. For my part, I confess that I should be wretched if there was nothing in which I could interest myself; and I am sure that I should not only become (or fancy myself) an invalid, but probably I should be a dreadfully wicked person in

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