PORTRAIT, NO. II.

HARRY WEATHERALL.

MR. WEATHERALL is somewhat advanced in life (though by no means so in his own estimation). His appearance would lead even an accurate observer to suppose that he was much younger than he is. Why is this? Between you and me, good reader, to the best of my knowledge and belief it is because he is blessed with a temper that is invulnerable, if I may use the expression. The ordinary ills of life cannot disturb its equanimity; nor can the little inconveniences of life molest his placid soul; consequently time has done but little mischief on the exterior of the "precious casket" which is the subject of our pencil. Wrinkles (those weatherbeaten, ugly milestones) have not yet furrowed his face where care makes her impress, but good-nature has marked the corners of his mouth with her graceful lines, and—mark them well-are they not like

beams of sunshine? How strange the magic effect of a few little touches around the corners of the mouth, provided they do not turn downward! But our friend's do not. Look at his large dark eyes, not brilliant, but always lighted up with hope and content. Who is that near him? He seems very much engaged in removing some disagreeable impression from the mind of his companion. I say "disagreeable impression," judging from the sad countenance she wears. Yes, good reader, he is laboring to do so; but he has labored during the last ten years upon the same good work, and does he look disheartened or discouraged? Let us draw near and listen.-They have just removed to a new home, where, so far as we can judge, nothing is wanting. The lady, his wife, "Mrs. Weatherall," has just arrived at home after an absence of several weeks, during which absence Mr. Weatherall has changed her abode, (which she had repeatedly declared was "intolerable,") and hoped (vain man) to surprise her with a little happiness, if only for a day, by a new house newly furnished and in a location which she had often expressed a wish to occupy. "Now, my dear Harriet," said Mr. Weatherall to his wife, "here is the house of which I wrote to you. Is it not comfortable ? A place for every thing, and every thing in its place,' carried out to the letter of the law of housekeepers."

“I never was a housekeeper, Mr. Weatherall," replied Mrs. W. in a mournful tone, "nor do I dare to trifle with my weak constitution so far as to try to take charge of this establishment, which to me will be only a continual cause of vexation and trouble." Here she threw herself upon a sofa near her, and laid down a parasol she held in her hand, which seemed a fatigue to her. Slowly untying her bonnet-strings, she gazed on the floor listlessly, continuing at the same time the strain she had begun on entering the parlor. "I hope, Mr. Weatherall, (here she took breath,) that you will not be disappointed if I remain here an hour or two before going further. I know I am not exactly sick, but I feel very much overcome by the surprise you have given me. You ought to have remembered I never liked surprises; but you meant it well, and no matter. You can't understand my feelings: you are too robust in health." Mr. Weatherall looked disappointed, but the shadow upon his face was momentary. Again the same pleasant smile beamed forth, and, seating himself near Mrs. Weatherall, he replied:

"I ought, I know, to have remembered; well, rest awhile, and then you will go through the house with me. If you say so, I will advertise for a housekeeper, and you need not have a care; but if you were able, what delight it would give me to see my

little wife the head of her house, ordering and directing every thing within her kingdom with energy and spirit, making even me obey her royal will! ha! ha! What a willing slave I would be and am now, Hatty! What do you think of my arrangement? Is the new furniture in the parlor to your taste?"

"It is very good, Harry, but it is of little consequence to an invalid like me whether the color of the walls is light or dark, or whether the hangings are red or blue; whether the mirrors are large or small; but it is of consequence whether the chairs are easy or uncomfortable, and that you seem to have lost sight of altogether; I cannot sit in those large arm-chairs; you know I'm not large enough to half fill them, nor can my feet touch the floor in one of them; how can I rest on one of these elegant sofas? It is all well enough for robust people like you or cousin Belle, who never lie down during the day;.but I could not expect you to think of my comfort in all your arrangements; it is not likely either that I will long occupy this beautiful house.”

This complaint was made with a strength of voice and nerve that might have showed any one but a fond husband that the good lady had the misfortune of fancying herself much more of an invalid than she really was. The truth was, she was too comfortable, and was growing sickly and indolent

in mind and body, from pure good fortune in what the world calls its goods.

Mr. Weatherall looked pained and distressed when she expressed the opinion that she would not long occupy this beautiful house, and, seating himself by her side, he replied in an affectionate and suppressed tone:

"You could not expect me to think of your comfort, Hatty! Of whom do you suppose I was thinking when I labored to provide and furnish this house before your return to the city?"

"Labored!" she repeated, looking up in his face, astonished at the idea of any thing being laborious to any one but herself. "It was a trouble, a task, then?"

"No, my dear, it was a labor of love; for in it I thought I was making you happy. It was an ef fort to accomplish it; that would have been a better word to express it; it was an effort, because our expenses during the past five years have exceeded my income, and we are living upon my capital; but this will not last long; you will soon be restored to health, and then you can see where you can help me to retrench many expenditures which are now necessary."

"I cannot hear you talk of business matters, Mr. Weatherall. You know it unnerves me, and why do you annoy me with them? There's my old