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BY C. R. HANLEITER. P © H T U Y. SPRING IS COMING. Spring is coming, spring is coming, Birds are chirping, insects humming; Flowers are peeping from their sleeping, Streams escaped from winter’s keeping. In delighted freedom rushing. Dance along in music gushing, Scenes of late in deadness saddened, Smile in animation gladdened ; AH is beauty, all is mirth, All is glory upon earth. Shout we then with Nature's voice, Welcome Spring! rejoice! rejoice! Spring is coming, come my brother, Let us rove with one another, To our well-remembered wild wood, Flourishing in nature’s childhood; Where a thousand flowers are springing, And a thousand birds are singing; Where the golden sunbeams quiver On the verdure girdled river; Let our youth of feeling out, To the youth of nature shout, While the waves repeat our voice, Welcome Spring ! rejoice ! rejoice ! igTuE © T IE B TTALIE©. THE INDIAN GRAVE. BY E. L. W. In the county of Morgan there is a small stream familiarly known to the present in hahitantsas “ Lilian Creek.” Not far from its water*, upon a small hill, near the centre ol a large plantation, is a considerable mound of earth, nearly covered bv stones and brush-wood, known by many ns the “In dian Grave.” The name of the Creek anil the designation of the Grave are tiaced to the following adventure: On this Creek early after this purchase was math; from the Indians, a small settle ment hail been commenced. A few enter enterprising fatmers, tired of the worn out lands of North Carolina, and enticed by the fruitfulness of the soil lying up and down this stream, had already reared their rude cabins, and commenced rapidly to fell the forest around them. In sight of each other, on three different elevations, might be seen three unhewed cabins, roughly co vered with boards, held in their places by heavy poles above them. A little farther off was yet another, bearing a stmng and fa miliar likeness to the test. This settlement was several miles west of any o'.her, being nearer the Indian line. Just beyond this boundary there was a considerable tuimbei of Indians resident upon a small stream, on which they had reared their hark huts, and were preparing for a permanent abode. How vain their expectations ! The tide of time and emigration has rolled on. Whete ere they now I Answer it who can. The eldest of the four settlers was George Frazer—his age was risingforty, with noth ing remarkable about the expression of his face, save an eye which looked as it it nev er slept; bright, piercing and grey, giving to his countenance the appearance of ex treme caution and vigilance. His frame was well knit and stout, his height six feet. His nearest neighbor, Samuel Fietwell, or as ho was familiarly tcimed, Sam Fret well, was his cousin—his age about thirty-five a reckless, dat ittg matt, rathei below the middle height—he had. however, propor tions of the finest order. I ban him no man was more athletic, anti for steadiness of nerve and firmness of muscle, he was one of ten thousand. In the use of the ri fle he was unri*aled. Often in the chase did he, from his covert, drive the bullet to the heart of the buck, while bounding by at full speed, or bring to the ground the wild turkey, while coursing his tapid flight amid the tops of the tall pines. The other two neighbors, William and James Bradshaw, were brothers. Both honest industrious men, such as may be fount! any where, with nothing remarkable about them. 1 lie Indians rarely ever visited this settlement. It was so new that it was scarcely known. One and anoth er had been occasionally seen, but no inter course was kept up between them, for as prudent men, they determined to have no connexion with them, other than such as was unavoidable. It was now spring time. VV inter had passed away, and with it the biting and nip ping frost. The early buds were putting fhith their leaves and flowers —the music of the birds had come, and in the silence of the evening twilight, might he heard the plaintive note of the lonely whip-ponr-w.ll, as he uttered forth his melancholy wallings. Our settlers were eagerly preparing for tlie coming crop. In the afternoon of a bright and sunny day, Samuel Fretwell and George Frazer were engaged in their rwarings, which were contiguous to each other, in dustriously cutting and splitting the trees around them, when the report of a rifle at no great distance from them arrested the attention of each. “ Heard you that rifle, Sam . said r ra zer; “who can he hunting so near the cab ins 1” - , - The times are too pushing for whi e folks to be out, I rr.r.on” said Fretwell, “unless they have more time to spate than I have. But. hark ! hide T ,,0^ or J O comes a big buck, and if *<W J (the name by which he called his nfle) don miss fire, I recon I’ll shorten the gait at which he is traveling.” ‘JL W®®My M®wfljp&]p®ff § lED®v(o)todl to IP<a>llM©s s Mow©* 3Latomtonr® p Mssßmiism© JLirto* Instantly snatching up a well-worn rifle which rested against a tree hard by, he gain ed a proper stand, and waited the approach of the deer. Swiftly came the buck, his head thrown back, his long antlers seemed to pierce his very shoulders; unconscious of the danger ahead, he bounded on, nei ther turning to the tight nor left, until op posite the large oak behind which Fretwell had hid himself, snd at the distance of an hundred yards. Quick as thought, the old rifle was poised upon the hand of the hun ter ; a moment sufficed to catch the ob ject with his eye, bring the. tight to hear up on it—a single motion of the barrel was seen as it moved with the bound of the buck, and the shatp crack was heard. The result was certain. Fretwell never missed his aim. “ A right good shot that, cousin Goerge, and a fine fellow lie is too,” said he, as they walked up to the dying deer. “ The shot was good enough to kill him, ’ :is true, but 1 must he allowed to say it was badly aimed ; the bullet just passed through the fleshy part of his neck.” “ Where I” said Fretwell. “ That is not my bullet hole, nor is that the side at which I fired ; turn him over and I'll bet you'll find my ball just behind the shoulder; that's the mark I shot at.” So saying, they turned the deer over, and sure enough they found the evidence of the unetring aim of the marksman. They had just settled the matter as to the shoot, when four Indians came suddenly up, all rifle in hand. They exchanged a few words among themselves, oti seeing the deer, and one of them approached to examine it. On dis covering the wound made by Fret well’s bullet, he pointed to the muzzle of his rifle, and looking at the others, significantly shook his head. Turning him over, his counten ance instantly changed, as his eye rested up on the rent made by his own ball. “ Ah ha ! me do dat—me first shoot— me first kill—mine deer, any how.” Tiius expresing, in broken English, the conviction that the deer was his hv right of the first wound, lie proceeded to lay hold of it, apparently careless of the presence of the real slayer. Hardly had he done so, when reckless of the consequences, Fret well struck him a tremendous blow with his fist that caused him to measure his length alongside of the stricken deer. “ Take that you thieving dog, will you, and begone ; and kill your game on your own side of the line.” Two of the remaining Indians cocked and leveled their guns simultaneously, hut the quick eye of Fiazer detecting their ob ject, he sprung between them, seizing a gun ill either hand, and before the Indians could arrest their purpose, each rifle was harmlessly dischargad into the eailli. The fourth Indian, an old man, being more wary or more pindent, interposed to prevent fur ther mischief. The fallen savage arising in the mean time, and recovering his gun, joined the others. A few wolds, unintelli gible to our farmers,passed quickly between them, and shouldering their rifles, they pass ed soecdily out of the charing, in the di rection in which they came. They had not gone far before Frazer discoveied the fur tive glances they ilirevv around them in ev ery direction, and saw that the old. pacifica tor himself seemed to mark distinctly, hv quick but steady observation, the position of tlie cabins around. “ I am much mistaken, Sam, if you have not, by that hasty blow you gave that red skin, brought trouble upon yourself and the rest of us; those two youngsters would have Mowed you through, had I not detect ed their purpose i:i time to prevent it: and that old serpent who seemed only anxious to make peace, is a very old devil. I’ll war rant, and has planned many a dark scheme of villainy before to-day. Did you not see the vengeance in Iris face and the fury iti his eye, as he walked away ? Mark me well, Sam Fretwell, that old savage is not to lie trusted : the others are young, and like yourself, somewhat hasty, hut 1 would far sooner trust their hasty tempeis than his wily malevolent spirit—they would forget it all before a week passed, hut he will repay us with interest, if it should take years.” *• Well, what is done can’t he undone,” said Fretwell, “ but they had better keen out of the t each of * Old Nancy,” else I’ll try and make the debt larger—we must on ly'keep up a closer watch for a season, and their anger will pass off.” “ Be not so easily flattered into security, cousin Sam—l am an older man than you, and may be given to look closer into things; at all events, I am no judge of human na ture, if that old Indian does not give us trouble yet.” By this time the two Bradshaws, having heard the firing, came up; matters wete explained, and the apprehensions of Fra zer expressed—the danger was apparent to all, and ere they separated, they arranged that all the families, at night, should occupy one house, and that two of the men should stand on guard each night alternately, until such time as the danger might be passed.— In conformity with this arrangement, that night was passed in watching, the duty be ing performed by the brothers Bradshaw, without resulting in any discoveries. The Indians came not. Thus performing the duties of watchmen, our little band of far mers passed many a night of sleepless vigi lence- As yet, to all appearance, it was done without necessity, and exposed them MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH 1, 1844, to much fatigue and many privations. As yet, their cabins were unburnt, their fami lies unharmed. Not an Indian had been seen —not even foot print had been de tected by the ever-watcliful Frazer. But still they did not cease to pass night tip ou their accustomed guard, and even dur ing the day, while engaged on their farms, their faithful rifles were their constant com panions ; and often, when approaching the outer verge of their dealings, they would pause, and cast quick and searching glances into the thickets around them, and listen well, lest some skulking Indian suddenly should spring upon them, or send the dead ly bullet to their hearts. Aptil had come. The leaves expanding with each returning sun, had mantled the forest in its vernal garments. Far and near around the cabins of our settleis, lay one unbroken woodland scene, save in the di rection of the Creek—there the labor of the axeman Jtad been bestowed, and there the timber had been cut and killed, to give place to the coming crop. After the labors of a day, rather warm for the season, our far mers, with their families, were quietly sit ting around the hearth-light, enjoying them selves as well as possible, under the circum stances by which they were surrounded.— Many had been the remarks upon indiffer ent matters—one subject leading to another, till at length they recurred to the subject of their danger. “ Well,” at length said Fretwell, “ I am beginning to think our neighbors over the line are satisfied with the scare we gave them, and are willing to let us alone—weeks have elapsed since the deet-killing scrape, and it strikes me if ever they intended to take vengeance, they would have made a trial before now. What think you of it, cousin, George 1” Frazer being thus addressed, remarked, “ Ttust not appearances, Sam—they are deceitful—the surest way to cure an evil, is to pi event it. lam as liable to he deceived as another, hut never shall I believe other wise, than that running old savage intended to repay us the blow you inflicted upon his companion. Why he has not already made the attempt, I am unable to say—he may he only waiting a favorable opportunity to execute his purpose. For myself, Ido not feel safe from his resentment, and am not willing to relax my efforts to avoid it.” The sudden and fierce barking of a dog outside the yard, arrest'd the conversation, and fixed the attention of the speaker. “ Who goes there 1” exclaimed Fiazer. No answer was made—the dog barked on. Who is that ? Come here Tiger— come here, sit.” At the bidding of his master, a large cur, leaping the fence, came hastily up, evident ly distutbed in an unusual degree, but quick ly returned and continued his angty balk ing. “ Someone must he about,” Frazer con tinued ; “Tiger never haikstlius at any harmless creature. I will close the door.— If it he any person desirous to come in, they will surely call.” The door was shut. In a short time the dog became quiet—he had been deceived, or the intruder had departed. Fiazer how ever, was not relieved of his apprehen sions. “ 1 should not he surprised,” said he, “if the rascally red skins wete about. Sam, look you well to the priming of your rifle, and doyou,” addressing the two Bradshaws, “sleep to-night with unclosed eyes, and firelock in hand ; it rnay ho, we may have to give them a round at short; and clo you wife, set the example to the other women, of coolness nnd courage. If we are attack ed, lie close with the children, and in si lence, prepare for any emergency. Sam, it is your turn and mine to watch. You know your recklessness and propensity to under rale danger; he not too sanguine to-night. You may need more prudence than you are apt to exhibit. An incautious act may en danger all our lives. Be governed by me— place yourself where you cant he seen— keep your position—if you see an Indian, be sure of your aim, and fire. ’Tis per haps best that we make the attack, if indeed there he 1 ndians about, which 1 hope is not the case.” Thus ended his instructions—both should ered their guns, and cautiously leaving tiie house, proceeded to their hiding places.— Fiazer taking a tree in the rent of the house, from which position he could see the ap proacli of a person in any direction, in front oi on either side of him. Fretwell depart ing to the front of the house, settled him self down just inside the yard fence, be tween the fence and a large fallen tree, where he could command the approach to the house from any point in that direction. The large dog was with Frazer, under whose command he was as obedient as a child. These arrangements were noiseless ly and quickly made. ’Twas past the hour of midnight. The fire had ceased to burn upon tliecahm hearth. The inmates of the house were silent, if not sleeping. The notes of the whip-poor-will were occasionally heard, issuing from the low grounds of the adjacent Creek, accom panied by the solemn melancholy hooting* of the sol tary owl. Save these occasional outbreaks upon the silence of the night, the forest slumbered on in unbroken quiet.— The moon shone not, but the sky was un clouded, and the stars lustrous and brilliant, shed out upon the earth a calm and mellow light. Ever and again, the tustling of a leaf, the murmur of the wind, or the cracking of a stick, would cause the rye to turn in the direction of the sound. But no object yet had fixed the attention of the watch ers. The night was rapidly wearing away. Fietwell was beginning to manifest signs of impatience and lestlessness, when a low and indistinct sound, like the note of a star tled partridge, fell upon hi-s ear. With in tense interest lie listened for a repetition of the sound. Nor long did he wait—it was soon repeated, and louder and more distinct than before, and immediately he heard it answered in the direction of Frazer’s stand. The sound had come first from the woods before him, and though he examined every object with keen scrutiny, yet he could see no living creature that could have given ut terance to the sound. He had heard that this was one of the Indian signals to ensure con cert in their prowlings, and he was confi dent in his belief that Indians were about. “ Hang the rascal,” said he, in commun ion with himself, “if he will just get out where a glimpse of star-light can full upon him, and ‘ Old Nancy’ will hut speak sharp, I’ll make liitn feel more like a dead dog than a living pattridge.” Again his ear caught the sound, and near ear than before, and he heard the respond ing answer given. “ What meaneth all this,” again mused Sam Fretwell. “ Nearer still, and no one to he seen. Wete it even a partridge itself, surely it would rustle the leaves enough for me to hear it and fix upon the spot at which it stopped.” His anxiety to catch a sight of the lurk ing foe became so intense, that he incau tiously raised his head above the topmost rail of the fence, and explored, with his eye, the woods around. The sudden sound, though partially muffled, produced by the cocking of a gun, caused him instantly to lower it ; for that was a sound he knew too well to mistake. “ Old Nancy” was bro’t to his shoulder in a moment, though he had not yet seen his object. He thought the sound of the cocking had proceeded from a laige tree just before him, about forty yards off. He watched that tree with the eye of an Atgus. G'azing at it so intently, his vision became indistinct and wavering, and he was compelled to turn his eyes in another direction, and upon other objects, to relieve them from the intensity of the effort. “ Ha ! what i that,” he muttered, as his eye, relieved, rested upon a sttang object moving upon the ground, slowly and cau tiously approaching the fence to his right. Now it stopped—in a moment more is was again in motion, but from tlie indistinct out lines presented, Fretwell could discover none of the marks of either man or beast. “What can it he I ’Tis not a hog, or cow, or sheep ; can it he an Indian ?” As this idea gained possession of his mind, his rifle was again cautiously raised to his shoulder, and his eye glanced quickly along tlie barrel. The object stopped again, near er the fence, and just in the edge of a small cluster of sumac bushes that had grown up rank and thick in the corners of the fence. Now it assumed another shape; higher it rose, and peered around in every direction. Seeming to discover nothing it gained ano ther elevation, uru! then another, drawing it self up to it full height, and presenting the shape and outline of a tall savage to the eye of Fretwell. Quickly muffling the sound, he cocked his rifle. Another mo ment, and the savage was drawn full within tlie deadly line of the barrel. Another, and a ruddy glare of light streamed forth from pan and muzzle, and the voice of “ Old Nan cy” shortly uttered, was heard, breaking upon the stillness of the night, and echoing along the silent forest. Unmindful of* his danger, Fretwell sprang upon the fence to seethe effect of his shot. The flash and report of a rifle front behind the very tree at which he had looked so long, warned him ptomptly of his tashness. The hall passed him, just grazing the collar of his coat.— He spcedlily retreated to the house—ere he reached the door, another crock, and then another, and a third, i° tapid succession, were heard. Unhurt he reached the door and entered it. Rapidly he re-loaded bis gun. The Bradshaws wen up and ready for tlie fight. Fiazer and the dog wete outside still. The women and cliildren, feeling tlie full danger of their condition, were awed into deathlike silence—no sound escaped them. But Frazer came not. After lie had selected his stand in the early part of the night, he observed noth ing, until he heard the low noise noticed by Fretwell, nnd heard tlie answering sound. Then he was satisfied that savages lurked neat him. His faithful dog too seemed in stinctively to apprehend danger, and mani fested strong anxiety to hunt out the lurk ing enemy. But Frszer kept him down, and curbed his impatience. Lying at trig master’s feet, he watched quietly, waiting for the moment to come when Iris services might he required. As yet, no Indian had been seen by Frazer, though the answering sound had come from an Indian but a few rods from him. Closely did he watch in that direction ; ant! at the moment when he heard the voice of “ Old Nancy,” he saw but a short distance from him, an Indian rise from the ground, and move rapidly to wards Fretwell, until he gained the covert of a stump, behind which he squatted. At tlie report ofthe second gun, the Indian was on his feetagain, with riflepoised, and wasthe next to fire at Fretwell. All this time Fra zer had watched his movements, arid sever al times had tried to fix his rifle upon him, but could not. He was patient, however — determined not to shoot without a certainty of his object. He heard Fretwell enter the house. He knew he could gain it at pleasure, and remained to watch the opera tions of their foes. The. Indian behind the stump was re loading his gun, when anoth er came up to him—a short consultation en sued—both endeavoring to keep the stump between them and the cabin, believing that the men were all within. George Frazer waited no longer. “ Now is my time, if ever,” said he ; and raising his rifle up to the level of the savages, he carefully wait ed until his aim should be sure and Iris hand steady. Feeling thus sure, lie lightly touch ed the trigger, and the pent up hall was ra pidly sped upon its death errand. A wild savage wail gave evidence that the aim Was true, and the result fatal. Both Indians fell. Frazer still lingered behind Iris tree, to see if either rose. Presently the one farthest off'raised his head, and commenced drag ging hUnselffurtiier of; he moved but slow ly, for he was badly wounded. Frazer had again loaded his gnn. “Now,” said lie, “I will see if I can make tlie rascals show themselves. 1 have heard that they will fight like devils to save from capture, their dead and wounded.— Now I shall see. Sant Fretwell ! Sam Fietwell ! do you and the Bradshaws come when I call for you again, and he quick,— Tiger,” said he to his dog, patting him on the neck, and pointing in the direction of the wounded Indian, “take him, catch him.” Tiger springing forward with a startling bark, was, in a moment, at the throat of the dead Indian ; finding no resis tance, he hounded on towards the other.— The Indian stopped, and raising himself up as well as lie could, drew his knife and pre pared for the conflict. He uttered another piercing, wailing cry, and three others rush ed to the rescue. “ Now boys, come,” cried Frazer—and our sturdy farmers, nothing loth, rushed for ward. ““Stop, stop —fall to the ground.” The order was obeyed, hut too late for Fretwell, whose temerity and recklessness overbalanced his piudence—ho was ahead of the others, and tardy in the execution of the order, and ere he reached the ground, the Indians fired. A hall passed through his thigh, luckily missing the hone. But the stratagem succeeded. The three Indians believing theii fire was fatal, utteted a live ly veil, and tushed simultaneously towards the fallen man. “ Lie close, boys,” said Frazer, “ and cock your rifles.” Watchful as tlie tiger ready to spring up-* on h ; s prey, each waited a moment longer. Two other Indians had by this time reached the dog, who held the wounded savage at hay. The three were rushing up, brand ishing their knives, and yelling furiously. “ Now is the time,” cried Fiazer, “ let them have it altogether.” The report that followed was os tlie sound of a single gun, so exactly did they agree as to mine. Fretwell, though wounded, being enabled to mnke “ Old Nancy” do her duty too-. Two Indians fell dead. The other turning, ran with the speed of the frightened buck from the fatal spot. Just then another Indian fired, and Tiger, the faithful companion of Fiazer, fell. The remaining three Indians hastily caught their wounded companion, anddiew him further into the depth of the forest. Believing it imprudent to follow them beneath the shad ow of the woods, our brave settlers waited upon the ground until they passed from their view, and then entered their cabin.— Fretwell’s wound, tho’ slight, was painful, hut the application of simples by Mrs. Fia zer, soon alleviated his nain. A dose and vigilant watch was kept up the remainder of the night, hut the Indians, satisfied with their reception, did not return. At the break of day they proceeded to review the scene of their fearful night’s adventure. Just in the edge of a patch of sumac hushes, lay the old savage, at whom Fretwell fired first. The identical villain of whom Frazer had warned them so re peatedly. Malice deep and abiding, even in death, was broadly written on every lin ament of his face. Fretwdl’s bullet had passed through Iris heart. At tlie stump they found another, nnd nearer the house, lay the two last, one pierced with three balls, the same who had been struck by Fre’.well on the day of the first difficulty Just in the edge of the wood, where the last effort had been made to secure the wounded In dian, they found Tiger, shot through the head, and cut in the body in many places. His conflict had been fierce and bloody. “Plague on the rascal thnt did this deed,” said Frazer. “ I would that I could have a chance to repay it. What say you 1 Let us follow them—there were hut three, and we are three. They cannot he far—carry ing that wounded one is a heavy job, and maybo we can track them by the blood,” They started in pursuit, but were quick ly out. About a quarter of a mile from tlie house they saw where they had stopped and constructed a litter. From this spot they could not track them, the blood had ceased to mark their trail, and their moca- | ains left no impression on the leaves. They VOLUME 11.---NUMBER 49. vert* unused to bunting Indians by the foot print, and abandoned the piitOuit. They returned mid dug a large grave, in which they buried the four Indians. This is the story of the “ Indian Grave.” And from the circumstance recorded above, the name of the Creek was taken, and t this day it is known in Morgan as “ Indian Creek. Madison, 1837. F@G3 TIKI IE (U® We select the following choice arti cle for the special interest of Mattied La dies. To receive the full benefit, however, let them read it “in mild and winning tones” to their husbands, when “ The sun is set, the day is o'er, And labor’s voice is heard no more.'’ MAKING WIVES LOVE THEIR HOMES. A great deal has been said, by many in dividuals; about the stay-at-home duty of wives; and the obligation under which they live, to make home pleasant and comfort®- hie, attractive, and all that. The inference from this one sided preaching and caution is, that men have nothing to do in the mat ter ; and that nothing depends upon them in relation to the comforts of what is intended to he the pleasantest place upon earth.— Women are soundly rated for gadding, as if they had no right to he seen out of door®; while men may treat their homes as mere cook-shops, and places where lodgings are provided for them—coming in only to their food and to their bed 9, and nobody questions either their l ight thus to neglect their fami lies, or the propriety and policy of such neglect. When a man thus contemptuously treats his home, and evinces in every action his preference for any place except his own fireside, what are we to expect of the rest of “ the folks,” hut that they should emu late the father of the family, and despise home too I If iley make it comfortable, it must be from selfish considerations ; foi no body cares anything about it for more than an hour at a time. All the efforts of the wife to call attention to improvements anti alteiations in the household being lost, or responded to in the language and tone of indifference, she becomes dispirited, and naturally learns to put a small estimate upon what receives but small consideration from otheis. Os course, she must “ gad,” or bo miserable. Wives and religion are treated much alike in this world. 801/i, to use a Hiber nicism, are considered the one thing need ful, and both are neglected. To both a great deal of lip worship is paid—and to 'wards both, to do human nature justice, there is a great deal of warmth of heart.— It is, however, but an abstract feeling—a sentiment by fits and starts, which comes over one when lie is melted by adversity, or cheered by extraordinary good fortune. 18 comes out upon great occasions, hut in the daily walks of life, wheie its influence should he seen and felt, it is a hidden thing. If a man is dying himself, he culls upon his Maker with as much fervency as if he had never forgotten Him; and if his wife is at the point of death, he makes himself as busy and as anxious as if lie had never for gotten her. The same feeling equalized through his life, would prevent a man’s terrible anxiety at the point of death ; and proper and attentive care of his wife, at all times, and under all circumstances, would leave him no necessity to be over-anxlons to atone for usual rcmissucss when she is in danger or distress. Every manied man who does not know that his wife’s whole soul is in her house, ought to learn it. If such be not her dis position, he will stand a fair chance tp be unhappy, unless, indeed, he can'find some means to alter her tastes, or to conform hie household and his pursuits to her peculiar mental conformation. Waiving such, as extraordinary rases, and taking women as we usually find them, the manied man should cousidcr his house as his wife’s em pire; and if lie would obtain and keep a hold upon her sincere affections, he must learn to feel an interest in all she does with in her proper sphere. The veriest trifle that takes place at home by her direction, is conducted with a view to his comfort and wishes. Men do not think of this sufficient ly. Then cares and intercourse are divided on so many different points, and among so many different people, that they cannot, without schooling their minds to the sub ject, comprehend a woman’s single attach ment for one person, and care for him.— He cannot realize that it is his duty to meet this by a corresponding feeling to be shown always at home. Engrossed in tire weighty cares of business, lie forgets that what ap pear but trifles to him, employ as much the attention of his wife, as his iiegocialious upon ’change, or his business transaction® or affairs occupy him. He would feel sljJJy annoyed, if wliut he chooses to tell Ins wife of his business, did not interest her, or if she made no inquiiies relative to his busi ness and prospects. On the some ground he should reflect, that his wife lias a light to he nettled and vexed, and may naturally l>ecnro* habitual ly despondent, if he passes the budget of domestic news without the expression of