a jar of discord, though, during the time, Kate saw a good many
things not exactly to her mind, and which she set down as needing
correction.

One evening, it was just five weeks after the marriage, and when
they were snugly settled in their own house, Frederick Lee was
seated before the grate, in a handsome rocking-chair, his body in a
position that it would have required a stretch of language to
pronounce graceful or becoming. He had drawn off one of his boots,
that was lying on the floor, and the leg from which it had been
taken was hanging over an arm of his chair. He had slipped forward
in the chair--his ordinary mode of sitting, or, rather, lying--so
far that his head, which, if he had been upright, would have been
even with the top of the back, was at least twelve inches below it.
To add to the effect of his position, he was swinging the bootless
leg that hung across the arm of the chair with a rapid, circling
motion. He had been reclining in this inelegant attitude for about
ten minutes, when Kate, who had permitted herself to become a good
deal annoyed by it, said to him, rather earnestly--

"Do, Frederick, sit up straight, and try and be a little more
graceful in your positions."

"What's that?" inquired the young man, as if he had not heard
distinctly.

"Can't you sit up straight?"

Kate smiled; but Lee saw that it was a forced smile.