the detail. The result was, that he found the distemper to be incurable; but, after much study, he conceived he had discovered a method to divert the evil he could not subdue. For this purpose, he caused a small building, about 5 twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and furnished with some ordinary chairs and tables; and a few prints, of the cheapest sort, were hung against the walls. His hope was, that, when the whitewashing frenzy seized the females of his family, they might repair to this apart10 ment, and scrub and smear and scour to their hearts' content; and so spend the violence of the disease in this outpost, while he enjoyed himself in quiet at head-quarters. But the experiment did not answer his expectation: it was impossible it should, since a principal part of the 15 gratification consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled right to torment her husband, at least once a year, and to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of government into her own hands.

There is a much better contrivance than this of the 20 philosopher, which is, to cover the walls of the house with paper; this is generally done; and, though it cannot abolish, it at least shortens, the period of female dominion. The paper is decorated with flowers of various fancies, and made so ornamental, that the women have admitted 25 the fashion without perceiving the design.

There is also another alleviation of the husband's distress he generally has the privilege of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the key of which he is allowed to keep. This is considered as a privileged place, 30 and stands like the land of Goshen amid the plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and ever on his guard; for should he inadvertently go abroad, and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is always on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately 35 enters in triumph, with buckets, brooms, and brushes; takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers to rights,-to his utter confusion, and sometimes serious detriment. For instance:

A gentleman was sued by the executors of a tradesman, 40 on a charge found against him in the deceased's books, to the amount of thirty pounds. The defendant was strongly impressed with the idea, that he had discharged the debt, and taken a receipt; but, as the transaction was of long standing, he knew not where to find the receipt.

The suit went on in course, and the time approached, when judgment would be obtained against him. He then sat seriously down to examine a large bundle of old papers, which he had untied, and displayed on a table, for 5 that purpose. In the midst of his search, he was suddenly called away on business of importance ;-he forgot to lock the door of his room. The housemaid, who had been long looking out for such an opportunity, immediately entered with the usual implements, and, with great 10 alacrity, fell to cleaning the room, and putting things to rights. The first object that struck her eye was the confused situation of the papers on the table; these were without delay bundled together, as so many dirty knives and forks; but in the action, a small piece of paper fell 15 unnoticed on the floor, which happened to be the very receipt in question; as it had no very respectable appearance, it was soon after swept out with the common dirt of the room, and carried in the rubbish-pan into the yard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the credit in his 20 book; the defendant could find nothing to obviate the charge, and so judgment went against him for the debt and costs. A fortnight after the whole was settled, and the money paid, one of the children found the receipt among the rubbish in the yard.

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There is another custom, peculiar to the city of Philadelphia, and nearly allied to the former. I mean, that of washing the pavement before the doors, every Saturday evening. I, at first, took this to be a regulation of the police; but, on further inquiry, find it is a religious rite, 30 preparatory to the Sabbath; and is, I believe, the only religious rite, in which the numerous sectaries of this city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about sunset, and continues till about ten or eleven at night. It is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on those evenings; 35 he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty water thrown against his legs; but a Philadelphian born is so much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian may be known anywhere by his gait. The 40 streets of New York are paved with rough stones; these indeed are not washed; but the dirt is so thoroughly swept from before the doors, that the stones stand up sharp and prominent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not accustomed to so rough a path. But habit reconciles

every thing. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian at New York; he walks the streets with as much painful caution as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet lamed with the gout; while a New Yorker, as 5 little approving the plain masonry of Philadelphia, shuffles along the pavement, like a parrot on a mahogany table.

It must be acknowledged, that the ablutions I have mentioned, are attended with no small inconvenience; but 10 the women would not be induced, on any consideration, to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can give you the strongest assurances that the women of America make the most faithful wives, and the most attentive mothers, in the world; and I am sure you will join 15 me in opinion, that, if a married man is made miserable only one week in a whole year, he will have no great cause to complain of the matrimonial bond.

5

LESSON LXXVIII.-THE FORCE OF CURIOSITY.-CHARLES
SPRAGUE.

How swells my theme! how vain my power I find,
To track the windings of the curious mind!
Let aught be hid, though useless, nothing boots,
Straightway it must be pluck'd up by the roots.
How oft we lay the volume down to ask

Of him, the victim in the Iron Mask;

The crusted medal rub with painful care,

To spell the legend out,-that is not there;

With dubious gaze o'er mossgrown tombstones bend
10 To find a name-the herald never penned;
Dig through the lava-deluged city's breast,
Learn all we can, and wisely guess the rest:
Ancient or modern, sacred or profane,

All must be known, and all obscure made plain;

15 If 't was a pippin tempted Eve to sin,

If glorious Byron drugged his muse with gin;
If Troy e'er stood, if Shakspeare stole a deer,
If Israel's missing tribes found refuge here;
If like a villain Captain Henry lied,
20 If like a martyr Captain Morgan died.
Its aim oft idle, lovely in its end,

We turn to look, then linger to befriend;

The maid of Egypt thus was led to save
A nation's future leader from the wave;
New things to hear when erst the Gentiles ran,
Truth closed what Curiosity began.

5 How many a noble art, now widely known,
Owes its young impulse to this power alone;
Even in its slightest working we may trace
A deed that changed the fortunes of a race;
Bruce, banned and hunted on his native soil,
10 With curious eye surveyed a spider's toil;

Six times the little climber strove and failed;
Six times the chief before his foes had quailed;
"Once more," he cried, "in thine my doom I read,
Once more I dare the fight if thou succeed;"
15 T was done: the insect's fate he made his own:
Once more the battle waged, and gained a throne.
Behold the sick man in his easy chair;

Barred from the busy crowd and bracing air,
How every passing trifle proves its power
20 To while away the long, dull, lazy hour!
As down the pane the rival rain-drops chase,
Curious he 'll watch to see which wins the race;
And let two dogs beneath his window fight,
He'll shut his Bible to enjoy the sight.

25 So with each newborn nothing rolls the day,
Till some kind neighbor stumbling in his way,
Draws up his chair, the sufferer to amuse,
And makes him happy, while he tells-The News.
The News! our morning, noon, and evening cry;

30 Day unto day repeats it till we die.

For this the cit, the critic, and the fop,
Dally the hour away in Tonsor's shop;
For this the gossip takes her daily route,
And wears your threshold and your patience out;

35 For this we leave the parson in the lurch,
And pause to prattle on the way to church;
Even when some coffined friend we gather round,
We ask, "What news?"-then lay him in the ground;
To this the breakfast owes its sweetest zest,

40 For this the dinner cools, the bed remains unpressed.

LESSON LXXIX.-THE WINDS.-W. C. BRYANT.

Ye winds, ye unseen currents of the air,
Softly ye played a few brief hours ago;

Ye bore the murmuring bee; ye tossed the hair O'er maiden cheeks, that took a fresher glow; 5 Ye rolled the round white cloud through depths of blue; Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew; Before you the catalpa's blossoms flew,

10

Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow.

How are ye changed! Ye take the cataract's sound; Ye take the whirlpool's fury and its might; The mountain shudders as ye sweep the ground; The valley woods lie prone beneath your flight. The clouds before you shoot like eagles past; The homes of men are rocking in your blast; 15 Ye lift the roofs like autumn leaves, and cast,

20

Skyward, the whirling fragments out of sight.

The weary fowls of heaven make wing in vain,
To scape your wrath; ye seize and dash them dead.
Against the earth ye drive the roaring rain;

The harvest field becomes a river's bed;
And torrents tumble from the hills around;
Plains turn to lakes, and villages are drowned;
And wailing voices, midst the tempest's sound,
Rise, as the rushing waters swell and spread.
25 Ye dart upon the deep; and straight is heard
A wilder roar; and men grow pale, and pray:
Ye fling its floods around you, as a bird

Flings o'er his shivering plumes the fountain's spray.
See! to the breaking mast the sailor clings;

30 Ye scoop the ocean to its briny springs,
And take the mountain billow on your wings,
And pile the wreck of navies round the bay.

Why rage ye thus ?—no strife for liberty

Has made you mad; no tyrant, strong through fear, 35 Has chained your pinions till ye wrenched them free, And rushed into the unmeasured atmosphere:

40

For ye were born in freedom where ye blow;
Free o'er the mighty deep to come and go;

Earth's solemn woods were yours, her wastes of snow,
Her isles where summer blossoms all the year.