Mr Dodge is a good man ; ho pays liis tnxcs, pays the minister fnrprenching and prayi'ig for hini and for cbristening the children ; he pays the Lcker and the butoher liberally, and buyg the "cunningest" little garters for littlo May, -which ! rejoicea the heart of Mr9. Dodge very greatly. Mrs. Dodge comes down in the morning with such pretty wrappers, tho children are all starched and ironed - we mean their aprons, trowsers, petticoats, frocks and jacketa, of course not the living skin of the poor things - till they set on like spinning tops. Then the coffee is so good, the rolls are so nice that everybody saya Mr. Dodge is tho happieat manalivo. Of course. he is. Why sliould not Mr. Dodgo be a happy man? Mrs. Dodge does not scold or fret ; she does not talk about the coal, nor the work, nor the oook. If the truth must be told, she does not talk at all. The highest exer ciso of eloquonce in whioh she was ever known to indulge was in exhibiting a black spot upon on 3 corner of the forehead of tho baby, eleven months old, who with the aspiring propensities of Young America, had crept up stairs slowly by the side of the bannisters, while the nurse was trying on her miatresses' bonnet bafore tlie looking glass. Mrs. Dodge told, in vivid words, her emotiona as she heard tho small, soft brain of her child bump, bump, from stair to stair, expecting to find it at the foot nothing but a masa of jelly ; then how she ran and picked him up, and how black ho was in the face, and how she sent the nurse tratnping, and how sho sat down at the foot of the stnirs and cried as if she would never stop crying. Wheu Mrs. Dodgo had exhausted her sensibilities and rhetorie, both at the same time, she subsided into the plain Mrs. Dodge, with the clean apron and orderly houschold. Mr. Dodge read his newspaper, tipped his coffoe and ejaculated inwardly, "I am the happiest man alive ; and as ho did so he heaved a deep siech. Mr. Dodge did not know why he sighed. FTe had nothing of which to ooniplain. All his dowcstic surroundings were just as they should ho, positively good. Mi's. Dodge, the children, the table, the house, all were the very bnst of the kind. And Mr. Dodge knew it, and feit it, and retupned thanks duly for it, and yet he could not help a profound sigh in view of all theso blessings. Not that tho sigh was at sll profetie, like that of the Moor, whose cui was overflowing with its breaker-briin of happiaess, aud ha exel aiiaK "TF H w?ro nw to 1ie, Twera now te li mast happy, for mf sou] Hitth her conieui si absolute, that not Another comfort hbo to tliiiso sucoeedrf In nnkoown fat." No, Mr Dodge's sigh proceeded from no sueh consciousnesF, but rather from a sense of vacancy, os ho had a groat spare chambor in his heart, whioh raight never be furnished. Tbon he saw your.g Mr. Hubbard, the carpenter, with his pretty wife standing by the window of a small house opposite, where was a rosa tree and a geranium in full blossom. Tho little tidy wife (she did not use near as umeh starch as Mrs. Dodge,) was reading something from a newsaper, with her hand upon her husband's shoulder, and Mr. Dodge saw that both werp anirnated. When she had done reading, they talked together and laughed and both seemed grently in oonoart and then thore was a movemeut as tho husband went towards the door, that said jut is plaiu as any words, "kiss" and Mr. Hubbard went out with a bound. - ,'llnw bright, and strong, and happy youHg Mr. Uubbard seerDï," thought Mr. Dodge. It was very plain Mr. TTubbard went out with a kiss and not with a sigh. Mr. Hubbard had a wife who oould talk and think. In other wrds, Afra. Hubbard had ideas in her brain, and Mr. Hubbard went out to his work with heart greatly refreshed with a lively affection, not a dead habit of life, and with some lovely inspiration doing its bemtiful work to his whole nature Mrs. Hubbard was a little woman, whose thoughts cnme and went with the vividness of a kaleidoscope, and whose pretty fancies lent a charm to all she said or did. She had always something bright and new about her, a rose in her hair, a trim boddice, a scrap from a book or sonie harmless bit of gossip that made them laugh, and yot did no harm to anybody. No, indeed, Mr. Hubbard had no bam of a room in his heart, for his bright, cherry wife dusted out erary cobweb with her lively ways, and filled every corner, now with a vase of flowers, now with a bust of some old grand thinker, now a Statuette of beauty, and now light, now shadow, for hor thoughts and sentiments were wide awako, and her husband was a loving appreciator of all their beauty. Stiff aprons, and nice trousers, and pretty morning dresses, cofTee and light roolN, are all excellent in their way, but somehow they leave room for sighiug, while a bright, chatty wife, who thinks her own way, and knows how to think with you also, fiüs the heart so full it has no room for sighing. Besides til this, your bright, chatty wife knows how to plan for a tliousand little comforts unthought by tho orthodoxly precise wifr, whoso thoughts never go on any exploration beyond tho ironing table, the cook stove and parlor lounge. Depend upon it a woman with a thought workin now and then in her brain, stirriug and nspirnng, is the onc with the sweetcat snjilo and teuderest ki.ss. Oommend us to a woman who writeg a ecrap of poetry now and the)]. Sho is the one '■Ti nvke fiunhlüfl ip.a êhtjty place." She will take the oldest thiogs and givi thein a touch and turn quite irresistible, Your rickety table and whezzy arm chair will get a sort of brightnass and comfort from her ready fingurs by which your karning will all "ba made easy," and yonr ichiiig back ho better "molifiVd'1 t.hai by auy "ointment." Why, the will put a vase here nnd a tass'.'l there, whicli will make your roum look cxtravagantly handaome, when, after all, tha coBt was little or nothing. Nevur be afraid of :i woman of taste and idoas ; she is tho truo Consuelo.