stick, with its extinguisher hitched to it. I should not mind all this if it were merely confined to the general; but I fear he will be the ruin of my friend Master Simon, who already begins to echo his heresies, and to talk in the style of a gentleman that has seen life, and lived upon the town. Indeed, the general seems to have taken Master Simon in hand, and talks of showing him the lions when he comes to town, and of introducing him to a knot of choice spirits at the Mulligatawney club; which, I understand, is composed of old nabobs, officers in the Company's employ, and other men of Ind," that have seen service in the East, and returned home burnt out with curry, and touched with the liver complaint. They have their regular club, where they eat Mulligatawney soup, smoke the hookah, talk about Tippoo Saib, Seringapatam, and tiger hunting; and are tediously agreeable in each other's company.

Wives.

Believe me, man, there is no greater blisse
Than is the quiet joy of loving wife;

Which whoso wants, half of himselfe doth misse;
Friend without change, playfellow without strife;
Food without fulnesse, counsaile without pride,
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.

SIR P. SIDNEY.

HERE is so much talk about matrimony going on around me,in consequence of the approaching event for which we are assembled at the Hall, that I confess I find my thoughts singularly exercised on the subject. Indeed, all the bachelors of the establishment seem to be passing through a kind of fiery ordeal; for Lady Lillycraft is one of those tender, romance-read dames of the old school, whose mind is filled with flames and darts, and who breathe nothing but constancy and wedlock. She is forever immersed

in the concerns of the heart, and, to use a poetical phrase, is perfectly surrounded by

the purple light of love." The very general seems to feel the influence of this sentimental atmosphere, to melt as he approaches her ladyship, and, for the time, to forget all his heresies about matrimony and the sex.

The good lady is generally surrounded by little documents of her prevalent taste; novels of a tender nature; richly bound little books of poetry, that are filled with sonnets and lovetales, and perfumed with rose-leaves; and she has always an album at hand, for which she claims the contributions of all her friends. On looking over this last repository the other day, I found a series of poetical extracts, in the Squire's handwriting, which might have been intended as matrimonial hints to his ward. I was so much struck with several of them, that I took the liberty of copying them out. They are from the old play of Thomas Davenport, published in 1661, entitled "The City Night-Cap"; in which is drawn out and exemplified, in the part of Abstemia, the character of a patient and faithful wife, which I think might vie with that of the renowned Griselda.

I have often thought it a pity that plays and novels should always end at the wedding, and

should not give us another act, and another volume, to let us know how the hero and heroine conducted themselves when married. Their main object seems to be merely to instruct young ladies how to get husbands, but not how to keep them. Now this last, I speak it with all due diffidence, appears to me to be a desideratum in modern married life. It is appalling to those who have not yet adventured into the holy state, to see how soon the flame of romantic love burns out, or rather is quenched in matrimony; and how deplorably the passionate poetic lover declines into the phlegmatic, prosaic husband. I am inclined to attribute this very much to the defect just mentioned in the plays and novels, which form so important a branch of study of our young ladies, and which teach them how to be heroines, but leave them totally at a loss when they come to be wives. The play from which the quotations before me were made, however, is an exception to this remark; and I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of adducing some of them for the benefit of the reader, and for the honor of an old writer, who has bravely attempted to awaken dramatic interest in favor of a woman, even after she was married!

The following is a commendation of Abstemia to her husband Lorenzo :

"She's modest, but not sullen, and loves silence;
Not that she wants apt words (for when she speaks,
She inflames love with wonder), but because
She calls wise silence the soul's harmony.

She's truly chaste; yet such a foe to coyness,
The poorest call her courteous; and which is ex-
cellent

(Though fair and young) she shuns to expose herself
To the opinion of strange eyes. She either seldom
Or never walks abroad in your company.
And then with such sweet bashfulness, as if,
She were venturing on crack'd ice, and takes delight
To step into the print your foot hath made,

And will follow you whole fields; so she will drive
Tediousness out of time with her sweet character."

Notwithstanding all this excellence, Abstemia had the misfortune to incur the unmerited jealousy of her husband. Instead, however, of resenting his harsh treatment with clamorous upbraidings, and with the stormy violence of high, windy virtue, by which the sparks of anger are so often blown into a flame, she endures it with the meekness of conscious, but patient virtue; and makes the following beautiful appeal to a friend who has witnessed her long-suffering:

"Hast thou not seen me

Bear all his injuries, as the ocean suffers

The angry bark to plough thorough her bosom,

And yet is presently so smooth, the eye

Cannot perceive where the wide wound was made?"