PORTRAIT NO. IV.

JEROME AND SUSAN DALY.

CHAPTER I.

SUSAN HOLLY was the prettiest girl in the village of A- -; every color of the rainbow took kindly to her beauty and set it off to advantage, and, strange to say, her companions never thought of envying her. She was the favorite of every one, and all alike shared her smiles and good-will. The children of the village loved her because she let them take tea in the garden when they visited her; and because every morning as they passed the cottage she had a pleasant word for them, and now and then gave them a bunch of sweet pinks and The aged loved her for her considerate deference towards them; and Jerome Daly loved her for more reasons than we can tell. Jerome was a mason. He was the oldest of a large family who were much respected. It had been with difficulty

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that he had served his time, and at odd moments earned a shilling or more to "help on." Jerome had loved Susan from childhood; had often carried her milk-pail across the fields, and had seen her safely home of a dark night, and then turned skipping and jumping away from the door, scarcely pausing an instant, from pure delight, at having been so fortunate, and then, how he thought of her, and dreamed of her, and worked for her, and wondered if he would ever live in a cottage, and have her for a wife, and come home and find her glad to see him; and see every thing shining bright, just as it was now in Widow Holly's cottage! These dreams gave him heart, and he worked on the happiest of the happy, until a shadow crossed his path of love.

Susan's beauty had attracted the attention of the only son of a big merchant in the village, and he took every opportunity to show her his preference. The widow soon heard the news which gossip spread of the bright prospects which the poor girl had offered to her, and no one doubted the ready acceptance of the young merchant's proposal. But Susan grew thoughtful and seldom left home, except when obliged to do so. Her mother watched her child with a mother's tender love, and left to herself the choice for life, a choice too sacred to trifle with, or barter for hope of gold or gain.

Susan loved Jerome, and him only, but he named not his love to her till Hal, the merchant, had been denied. Then with fear he approached the village beauty and she smiled upon him.

The little village was dressed in its Sunday garb, and rich and poor assembled in the parish church to see the happy marriage.

Jerome took home his bride, and welcomed her beneath his father's roof, where she met a more than hearty greeting, then softly whispered to her grateful ear, "that the widow would be lonely, and they would not remain away from her long."

How kind! how thoughtful! even in his wild and happy joy to forget himself. She answered with: "God bless you, Jerome, for the thought; it was more than I had expected."

But it was not more than the fond mother had expected. She had prepared a little feast, to which many added a kind token, and the widow gave her blessing to the young and happy pair.

We must pause, and draw a veil over the picture. Again we see them. Time has slightly touched their forms and faces, and around them is a group of healthy children. God bless their rosy cheeks and happy hearts!

Jerome is not less gay but more self-possessed, and Susan's beauty has not lost one charm; look at

that jaunty little cap! What fortune could purchase the content and peace that are here?

A group of children? Yes, a group all theirs, and "not one too many;" so says the fond mother, to which Jerome adds, "not one, nor half enough;" and then, to draw him out, she answers, "But, Jerome, where are the food and fuel to be found for such a host?"

"Susy, it's not for me to say. Who ever thought that we could tell where the means came from that filled our store? Have we not often noticed how with each new-comer I was blessed with gain, with full and plenty, and your broad shoulders, too, strengthened to bear the care?"

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Yes, Jerome, I like to hear you say so. What think you of the offer our good neighbor has made us to take Philip (their eldest son) to the city?"

"I do not like to decide too soon, Susy. I don't know my own heart well enough; I wouldn't like to lose a good chance to my boy, but I must be sure it is a good one. It seems fine to think of him in a nice grand store, and perhaps by-and-by he might be a great man-and he might take care of you if I was taken away, and he might not, and it's because he might not, that I'd like to consider on it a little, and ask OUR FATHER to direct us, and you do so too, Susan, and, why, after that I'll do whatever you and I think best."