in it an expression of sad feeling, evidently conjured up by the
reminiscence.

"You knew her in her better days?"

"As well as I knew my own sister. She was one of the gentlest of her
sex. No one could meet her without loving her."

"She married badly?"

"Yes. That tells the whole secret of her present wretched condition.
Alas! how many a sweet girl have I seen dragged down, by a union
with some worthless wretch, undeserving the name of a man! There is
scarcely a wealthy family in our city, into which some such an one
has not insinuated himself, destroying the peace of all, and
entailing hopeless misery upon one all unfit to bear her changed
lot. The case of Flora is an extreme one. Her husband turned out to
be a drunkard, and her father's family became reduced in
circumstances, and finally every member of it either passed from
this world, or sank into a state of indigence, little above that of
her own. But the worst feature in this history of wretchedness is
the fact, that Flora, in sinking so low externally, lost that sweet
spirit of innocence which once gave a tone of so much loveliness to
her character. Her husband not only debased her condition, but
corrupted her mind. Oh, what a wreck she has become!"

"How few families there are," said I, after a few moments, "as you
have justly remarked, the happiness of which has not been destroyed
by the marriage of a much loved and fondly cherished daughter and
sister, to one all unworthy of the heart whose best affections had