THE HARP.
The secretary and his young wife had not yet passed the spring days of their honey-moon—no selfish motives, no transitory inclinations had united them; a warm and long proved affection was the seal of their union. Early had they known each other, but Sellner's unprovided condition forced him to defer the accomplishment of his wishes. At length he received his appointment, and on the following Sunday he conducted home his affectionate Josephina as his wife. After the long irksome days of congratulation and family feasting were over, the young couple could at last enjoy the peaceful evening undisturbed by the presence of any third person. Plans of future life, Sellner's flute, and Josephina's harp filled up the hours which to them seemed to flit but too quickly away, and they hailed the deep and perfect unison of their tones, as a friendly presage of future days of happiness. One evening they had been long amusing themselves with their music, when Josephina began to complain of head-ache. She had concealed from her anxious husband an attack which she had had in the
