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VOL. I.
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-
r TALKS.
TUB WIFE.
The treasures of the deep are not so pre
cious
As are the concealed comforts of man
Lock (J up iu woman*® love. I scent the
air
Os blessings, when I come but near the
house.
What a <1 licious breath marriage sends
forth
The violets becks not sweeter.
MIDDLETON.
I have often had occasion t * remark
the fortitude with which Women sus
tain the most overwhelming reverses
of fortune. Those disasters whi h
bre :k down the spirit of man, ami
prostrate him in the dust, seem to call]
forth all the energies oftlje softer sexj
and give such intrepidity and eleva
tion to their character, that at times
it approaches to sublimity. Nothing
can be more touching than to behold
a soft and tender female, who had
be n all,.weakness and dependence,
and alive to every trivial roughness
v idle treading the prosperous paths
es life, suddenly rising iu mental
free, to he the comforter and sup
porter of her husband, under misfor
tune, and alii iirg with unshrinking
firmness, the bitterest blasts of adver
sitv.
Ah the vine which has long twined
i f sgr* eful f..liago around the oak,
and *n lilted by it into spnehine,
uiM. when lie hardy plant is rifled by
the thunderbolt, <|ing round it with
its cur es-.i g t ndrils. and hind, up its
shatti red b ughs; s is it beautifully,
ordered bv P•m le > • sh it wimao
w h is the a ’re and -pendant and oraa
merit of m n in his happier hours,
si ould he nis stay ami s dace when
s nitten wiUi sudden calamity, wind
iog herself into the rugg*d recesses of
bis nature, tenderly supporting the
drooping head, arid binding up the
broken heart.
I wa* once congratulating a friend,
who had around hi o a bl >omiug fan
ily, knit together in th* strongest af
fection. 1 can wish you no better
lot, s <id he, with enthusiasm *tha i to
Irove a wife and children—if you are
pr ispernus, there they are, to share
>'•“ prosperity, if otherwise, there
tb‘*y are to comfort you.* And, in
dth'd, I have observed that married
men f tiling into misfortune; are more
stimulated to exertion by tin* necessi
ties ot the helpless and beloved beings
Vho depend upon them for subsis
tence; but chiefly -because their spir
its are soothed and relieved by domes
tic endearments, and their self respect
kept alive by finding, that tho’ all a
broad is d.-rkiu ss and humiliation, y<-t
there is still a little world of love, of
which they are monarrhs. Where a
single man is apt to run to waste and
self neglect; to fancy tTTmseTT lonely
and abandoned, and his heart to fall
to ruin like some deserted mansion,
for want of an inhabitant.
‘These observations call to mind a
little domestic story, cf which I was
o; ‘ a witness. My intimate friend.
had married a beautiful and
a compUsled girl, who bad been
brought up in the midst of fashionable
life. She had, it is true, no fortune
but that “f m\ triend was ample, and
he delighted in the anticipation of in
dulging h r in every elegant pursuit,
and administering to those delicate
YVarrenton, December 20, 1828.
WiM 4il-I Hi I l-l *1 fipl*- U .1
of w itchery ab>*ut the sex.—‘Her life,*
sai 1 he, •shall *>e like a fairy tale/
, Tin* very difference in th- ir charac
ters pc.(lured an harmonious combi
nation; lie was of a roman ic, am;
somewhat, serious cast; she was all
i life and gladness. 1 have oftei.
noticed the mute rapture witi.
| which he would gaze upon her i.
company, of wiiich Iter sprightly po\v
l ers made her the delight; and how, in
| the midst of applause, her eye would
still turn to hi u, as if there alone she
song it favor and acceptance. Win
/eauiig on h s arm, er slender form
Contrasted fi oly with his t 11, man
ly pers >u. The f ind confiding air
with which she looked up to him,
seemed to call forth a flush of triumph
ant p* file and cherishing tenderness
as if lied* ted m his lovely burthen
for its very helplessness. Never <1 i<!
a cotipb* set forw u*d on the flowery
path of early and well suited marriage
with a fairer prosp *ct of felicity.
It was the misiiap of my friend,
however to have embarked his fortune
iu large speculations, ami he had not
been married many months, when by
a succession <f sudden disasters, it
was swept from him, and he found
himself reduced almost to penury
Tor a time he kept his situation to
himself and went about wih a bag
gard countenance and a breaking
heart. llis life was hut a protra ted
agony,* end vvh.it rendered if more in
supportable, was the necessity of
keeping up a smile in the p -eseuce of
his wife, for lie could not bring liimscit
to overwhelm her with the news.
She s i\v, h iwever, with the qin k
eyes of affection* that all was not w. !l;
with him. She marked his altered
looks and si isl and sighs, and was not to
be <le eived by his sickly and vapid at
tempts at cheerfulness. She tasked
: II her sprightly powers and tender j
blendish merits to wi.i him back to
li tppin ss; but she only drove the ar
row deeper into his soul. The more
he saw cause to love her, the more
torturing was the thought that he was
soon to m ike her wretched. A
little while, thought he, and th *
smile will vanish fro n that cheek
the song will die away fro n those lips
the lustre of thos* eyes will he (pi-u< li
ed withs >rr *w; and the hap heart
whi li now bents lightly in th a b so n.
will be w iglied down, like mine, by
the cares and miseries of the world.
At length he came to me* one day,
and rel ated his whole situation in the
tone d‘the deepest despair. When I
had heard him through, 1 inquired,
‘does your wife know all this?’ At
the question lie burst into an agony
of tears. ‘For God’s sake* cried he,
•if you have any pity ori me, do not
mention my wifi ; it is the thought of
her that drives ine almost to madness!’
‘And why nol?* said I, •She must
know it sooner or later; you cannot
! keep it long from her, and the iutelli
I genre may break upon her iu a more
j startling manner, than if imparted by
I yourself; for the accents oMhosi* we
love soften the harshest tidings Be
sides you are depriving you; self of the
comforts of her sjmpathy, and riot
merely that: but also endangering
the only bend that can keep hearts to-
J get bee—an unreserved community of
thought and feeling. She will soon
perceive that something is secretly
preying upon your mind; and true
love will not brook reserve but feels
undervalued and outraged, when even
the sol row of those it loves are con
cealed from it/
• Uii! but my friend! to think w hat
a blow 1 am to give to all her future
| prospects; how 1 am to strike her ve-
Cj. *■l.o (> t * earth, by te ii .g i/t
that her husband is a beggar! that she
is to fmogo ail the elegancies of lip* —
.11 the pleasures of society—to sink
vith me into indigence and obscurity!
i'o tell her th it 1 have dragged her
lownfrnii the sphere iu which she
•night liav co tinned to move in con
stant brigh ..css—the light of every
aeart! How can she bear poverty?
she has been brought up in all the re
finements of opulence. liow can sto
ical* neglect? gin* has been flu* idol of
Society . Oh, it will break her heart,
t will break her heart!— *
I saw his grief was eloquent, and I
et it have its flow, for sorrow relieves
itself by words. When his paroxism
had subsided, and he had relapsed in
to moody silence, 1 resumed the sub
je. t gently, and urged him to bre k
his si<nation at once to his wife—He
shook his head mournfully, but posi
tively.
•But how are you to keep it from
her? It is necessary she should know
it, th it you may take the steps pro
per to the alteration of your circum
stances. You must change your sty I
of living—nay, observing a pang to
pass across his countenance, do not
let that ailli t you. I am sure you
have ne.v r placed your happiness in
outward show—you have yet* friends,
who will not think the worse of you
lor being less splendidly lodged; and
mu— ly ii do< s not require palat eto be
happy with Mary/
•a could go down with her into pov
erty and tiie dust!—l could—l could
—G .n bless her! God bless her!*
in and be, bursting into a transport of
grief and tenderness.
• Ynd believe me, my friend/ said I,
sl> ,ip.'g up, and. grasping him warm
ly by tiie. tifnd, ‘believe me, she can
be the same vwith you. \yr, more, it
will be a source ot pride and triumph
to her -it will call 1 >rtb all the latent
energies and fervent sympathies of
her nature, for she will rejoice to
prove that she loves you for yoursed
There is in every true worn -m s hear
a spark of heavenly fire, which li.-
dormant iu the broad diy light .i
prosperity; bir wd h ki idles up, and
beams and ol iz s in the dar\ bur of
adversity. N > man knows what the
wife of his h som is—n mm
ku ivvs what a ministering .iiigd she i
—until lie has gone vvitli her through
tiie fiery trials of this world/
Tnere was something in the ear
estness of manner, and the figurative
style of my language, that c mght the
ex ited imagination of Leslie. I
knew the auditor I had to deal with,
and following op the i upression I
had made, I finished by persuading
him to go home and unburden his sad
heart to his wife.
I must confess, notwithstanding all I
had said, I felt some solicitude for tin
result. Who can calculate on the
lortitude of one whose life has been a
round of pleasures? Her gay spirits
might revolt at the. dark, downward
path of low humility, suddenly pointed
out bes .re her, and might cling to tin
sunny regions in which they liar] liitli
erto revelled. Besides, ruin in sash
ioiiable life is a coinplished by so rna
iiy galling mortifications, to which fi
other ranks, it is a stranger. In
short, I could riot meet Leslie, tin
next morning, without trepidation
lie had i *‘<le the disclosure.
• And how did she bear it?*
• Like an ang-1! it seemed rather to
be a relief to her mind, for she threw
her arms around my neck, and askei.
if this was all that had lately mad
; rrte unhappy—but poor/ added he, sin
Cannot realize the change we must un
dergb. She has uo idea of poverty
but in the abstract: she has only rear!
of it iu poetry, where it is allied to
love. She feels as yet no privation,
she experiences no want of accustomed
conveniences or elegancies. Winn
we come particularly to experenre
is sordid cares, its paltry wants, its
petty humiliations—then will be the
re I trial/
‘But/said I, ‘now that you have
got over the severest task, flint of
breaking it to her, the sooner you let
the world into the secret the better.
Tlu* disi I sure may be mortify ing, but
then it is a single misery, and soon li
ver, whereas you otherwise suffer it,
in anticipation, every hour iu the day.
Ir is not poverty, so much as pretence,
that liHirasses a ruined man—the
struggle between a proud mind and an
empty purse—the keeping up a hollow
show that must soon come to an end.
H ive the courage to appear poor and
you disarm poverty of its sharpest
sting/ On this point I found Leslie
perfectly prepared. Me had no false
pride.himself, am) as to his wife, she
was only anxious to conform to their
altered fortunes.
Some days afterwards he called
upon me in the evening. He had dis
posed of his dwelling house, and taken
a small cottage to the country a fi*vv
miles trom town, lie-had been busied
all day in sending out furniture. /The
new establ islunent required few arti
cles, and those of the simplest kind.
All the splendid furniture of his late
residence had been sold, excepting
his wife’s harp.—That, ho said, was
t o closely associated with the idea of
herself; it belonged to the little story
of th*ir loves, for some of the sweet
est moments of their courtship were
those when he had leaned over that
instrument and listened to the melting
tom sos her voice. I could not hut
smile at this instance of romantic gal
lantry in a doating husband.
lie was now going out to the rot
t -.ge, where his wife had been all day;
s iperinfetiding its arrangement. My
feelings had become strongly interests
ed in the progress of his family story,
and as it was evening, I offered to ac
cmi >my him.
lie was wearied with the fatigues
of the day, and as we walked out, fell
into a fit of gloomy musing.
• Toor Mary!* at length broke with a
Heavy sigh, from his lips.
•And what of her/ asked I, ‘has any
thing happened to her?*
• What said lie, darting an impatient
glance *is if nothing to he reduced to
tins paltry situation—to be caged in
i miserable cottage—to be obliged to
toil almost in the menial concerns of
her wretched habitation!*
•‘Has she then refined at the
change?*
‘Repined! she has been nothing but
sweetness and good humor. Indeed,
she seems iu belter spirits than I have
ever know n her.; Mie lias been to me
all love, and tenderness, and comfort!*
•Admirable girl!* exclaimed 1, *You
call yourself poor, my friend; you
never were so rich—you never knew
<tie boundless treasures of excellence
you possessed iu that woman. 9
•Oh, but my friend, if this first
meeting at the cottage, were over, I
think 1 could then be comfortable.
But this is her first day of real expe
rience: She has been introduced into
a humble dwelling—she has been em
ployed all day arranging its miserable
equipments—she has for tlie first
ime know n the fatigues of domestic
employment—she has for the first
‘ime looked around her on a home
destitute of every thing elegant, and
dmust convenient; and may now be
sitting down, exhausted and spiritless,
No. 3<>.