sold the coat for a pair of vases to set on our mantle-pieces."

There was an instant change in my husband's face. He disapproved of
what I had done; and, though he uttered no condemning words, his
countenance gave too clear an index to his feelings.

"The coat would have done poor Mr. (sic) Byran a great deal more
good than the vases will ever do Jane," spoke up aunt Rachel, with
less regard for my feelings than was manifested by my husband. "I
don't think," she continued, "that any body ought to sell old
clothes for either money or nicknackeries to put on the
mantle-pieces. Let them be given to the poor, and they'll do some
good. There isn't a housekeeper in moderate circumstances that
couldn't almost clothe some poor family, by giving away the cast off
garments that every year accumulate on her hands."

How sharply did I feel the rebuking spirit in these words of aunt
Rachel.

"What's done can't be helped now," said my husband kindly,
interrupting, as he spoke, some further remarks that aunt Rachel
evidently intended to make. "We must do better next time."

"I must do better," was my quick remark, made in penitent tones. "I
was very thoughtless."

To relieve my mind, my husband changed the subject of conversation;
but, nothing could relieve the pressure upon my feelings, caused by
a too acute consciousness of having done what in the eyes of my
husband, looked like a want of true humanity. I could not bear that