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A Plethora of Happiness.
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in the garden, and men don't care to walk in gardens. You must see our garden; it really is the prettiest that I ever saw."

"Perhaps you love to take care of flowers," suggested Ruth, brightening.

"No, we have a capital gardener. Uncle Job is very fond of his flowers. It's Arena's place to gather them and make bouquets. You'll find them in every room in the house, as a matter of course."

"But I should think you would at least like to cull and arrange the flowers yourself. That must give you pleasure."

"Why should I take the trouble when I have some one to do it for me?"

Ruth, who had preserved great serenity during this conversation, though she was shocked and grieved at her friend's deplorable state of mind, now became fairly roused. She answered in a tone so earnest and excited that it startled Angelica out of her lethargy.

"Why should you take the trouble to enjoy? Truly, that you may not lose the capacity for enjoyment which God has given you as a reward for the healthful use of your faculties! Why should you take the trouble to think, to feel, to sympathize? Because, without thought, without feeling, without sympathy, you must become a living clog, a vegetable nonentity, a breathing petrifaction! Because the mental paralysis which is gradually falling upon your spirit, would deprive soul and

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