" I HAVE known many instances of mixed marriages," said a silvery-haired old gentlewoman, with a wistful look in her still fine eyes, "and of all the number I can recall but three that turned out well." It is not difficult to see that in so intimate a relation as marriage a oneness in religion, that highest of all concerns, is absolutely indispensable to the perfect union. "Theoretically we all object to mixed marriages," answered Mrs. Gibson, a matron whose three daughters had married out of the Church; "but practically we realize that circumstances make them necessary. The Church itself understands this, else she would not grant dispensations so readily. And when the husband makes the required promises I can't see where the wrong comes in." Of course it would have been rude to say, "Look at your own daughters, and you might see plainly enough." When Louise Gibson became engaged to Fendall Cates her friends thought her a very lucky girl, and her mother's enemies said that she was a cleverer woman than they had imagined, to have landed that nice young Cates for her daughter. Then there came a time when the hum of busy tongues indicated an ugly hitch in the preparations. It was said that the young man objected very emphatically to making the promises. He was willing enough for his wife to practise her religion, since she had been brought up that way, but most emphatically the children should be reared Presbyterians, like all the Cates since the time of the first Presbyterian, or else they should be left to choose for themselves. Mrs. Gibson bemoaned the indelicacy of the question, and the want of fine feeling on the part of her pastor which compelled an innocent young girl to face such a discussion; as if the couple were two babes in the woods chasing a rainbow. Louise was pluckily firm, and Fendall, who really was very much in love with her, saw that he must either give up the girl or yield, and finally consented to marry a Catholic on the only terms a Catholic could marry him.