"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts."
How often it happens when looking forward to a particular event with a certain degree of pleasure, by some capricious freak of the nervous system our prospects are defeated, and we experience the reverse of what we anticipated. It was thus with Rosalind on Mary Kingley's wedding day. The cares she had assumed for the last month had been somewhat exhausting, and the thoughts of her own approaching, bridal agitated her as she and Walter accompanied them to the parlor. Just as the ceremony was about to commence, Milly, who was sitting by the side of Ernest, whispered to him, "Now you can sec how you and Rosalind will look when you stand up."
The oddity of this remark in the midst of the solemnity of the occasion, so out of keeping with her accustomed reserve, especially towards him, excited an involuntary smile, which, observed by Rosalind, brought back to her cheeks the color that had momentarily forsaken them.
The usual salutations passed, when Ernest, being in a playful humor, and amused by her childish perturbations kissed her instead of the bride, which
