XXXIV. AN ANSWER TO MRS. CROWE.—BY FANNY FERN.

"'I incline to think that a girl really in love—one who bore the evident symptoms of the malady—would be thought very improper; yet I have often fancied that there must be a man born in the world for every woman; one whom to see would be to love, to reverence, to adore; one with whom her sympathies would so entirely blend, that she would recognize him at once her true lord. Now and then these pairs come together; and woe to her who meets this other self too late.'" —Mrs. Crowe.

Oh, my dear Mrs. Crowe, don't speak of it! Isn't it dreadful to think of? It is not only woe, but WHOA!! You mustn't look at him, woman alive; nor think of him. Just number over all Mr. Crowe's excellencies on your ten fingers; get married over again, (if it will help you any); do anything but think of that 'other self.' I've no manner of doubt but Satan will send him across your path at every turn and corner. Turn your head away, if you can't your heart. The more you like him, the more you mustn't let him see it; but, my gracious! you MUSTN'T like him! of course you understand THAT! Shut your eyes to moonlight and starlight; peruse Euclid and Walker's Dictionary, (NOT WEBSTER'S!) and Lives of the Martyrs, and the Almanac. Don't make your heart soft, reading poetry, or hearing music. Live low and look high; redouble your attention to Mr. Crowe; drive round as if you hadn't a minute to live; where you used to put one stitch in your husband's coat, put a dozen now! Take good care of the little 'Crowes!' and NEVER let Mr. Crowe go on a journey, in these days of steamboat accidents and railroad collisions! He might get hurt, you know! How can you tell? 'Tisn't safe!'"