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'bwyrmmmammf asm miiiiiwjar
_ tt&ca ai
*■ te MY WilE!
, A WUISPKB I
"Mv wife’’—she is gone out of" town, and
1 seize flic lucky moment to paint her por
, trait, and to tell in/ story. They shall not
be full-lengths.
Wives ! what a word. There is “ the
• creaking of shoes and the rustling of silks”
' m the sound ; the rattling of keys, and—pc,
not the chink of money ; but there is the slv
subtle, single knock of a duu in it, the scold
ing of servants, and the squeaking of chil
dre.:. Wife !—it sounds like the requiem
of libeity, the knell of genius, the sad, sullen
adieu to all the rhapsodies and r amblings of
youth — the ipse dixit of destiny, pronounc
ing sentence of imprisonment for life, upon
the unfettered and untaineable spirit. It is a
dictionary of itself-—it means every tiling,
good and evil. It is the open ccsamc !of mis
chief-—the sound of the creaking hinges of
Pandora’s !>ox—the riveting of chains—the
cabalistic word that is to call spirits from the
deep, seraphs or satyrs, as it may happen—
the Happing of the sails of the departing ves
sel that is leaving us on an island, peopled
ptoberlv with hyenas that hate laughing, and
boars too sulky to dance. Hut then, on the
othet hand, there is a certain sweetness—not
a sweetness exactly, but a something or other
in the sound, that certainly efot.s—but all this
is not what 1 was going to say.
Wives in general—for I have a word for
those of other people before 1 come to my
own—arc as varied as the weather. Thcfe
are hot and cold ones- fair and foggy, damp
and dry. Your “damp” wife will he barely
civil to you when you ask for her husband,
and will perhaps say something about “people
calling to take him out.” If you o,.en the
door suddenly, you will perhaps see her put
ting the decanters away. The “dry” wife
works by hints ; she will quiz you, if single, 4
upon your dissipated habits, and intimate
that el. i considers you the cause of nil her
husband’s wickedness before marriage, and
some of it since. Hut your “foggy” wife is
nJore thsgr?eahle than all—one with whom
it is impossible to sec an inch before you,
where you don’t know whether you are to
go or stay, ivito seems to entertain you vv'tii
erftire difl’ci Vnce, or regards you as a part of
the living-s: ock upon her husband’s estate,
Who neither invites you nor declines your vis
its forgets your name twice a week, and if
asked who you are, says—“Oh ! it is only a
friend of M r, M’s;” who, in short, just en
dures you, 1 eeause there was a sort of under
standing in t he marriage contract, that tile
husband was to have his friends and dogs as
felt!-.; as he p! U sed- This is a sad clog to
friendship, bu lit is a common one. I have j
a dozen friend t whom 1 never think ot ;sit
ing for tins rc: eon, because ' know I should
be placing mys ill’ in the situation of that per
son who apolog ‘ieed to I)r. Johnson for his
long stay, and was answered, “No at all,
ir f i bad forgo ten you were pres.at.” .
When a man makes you stay to dinner
jeth-sr you will lor no, you may understand
"at he means ; to id when, on the other hand,
kicks you dov r ii airs, you may, in general
-ttv accurate! 1 ,- * guess what his intentions
' ‘ an ind ifferont or an indefinite sort
reception is vvi Kit I never, under any cir
uinstances, run. the risk of encountering
twice.
How provoking Is it, when you have made
a c ~,k}ii a friend who is delighted to see
on -ad whi th whom have made up your
* nti a to stop the evening, to be mercilessly
interrupted by bis wife, with—well, when
will you come a.vl take a cup of tea with us?”
*3 if she had detected the lurking intention
as soon as it was formed. Really, 1 cannot
understand how it is that human nature is
still Willing to submit to such inconvenient- -s;
and that iu°spitc'of l>rs. Commons, people arc
• Constantly found, not only perpetrating mar.
riage, but persisting to their last brealh in jus
tifying their conduct, gliding the ir
till they look like transports to all hut them
selves, and preaching up their independence
till, like patriots, they half delude them
selves with a notion that they are. in earnest.
Ida not go quite so far as the philosopher,
who wished that tho hit:-.an race could be
continued like trees ; so that when a man
wanted an heir be might only have to plant
himself in bis garden—set bis housekeeper to
water him—and wait for the shoot sprouting
forth. This is a philosophy that is beyond
.rv;; but I.do wish that there wore some mod
ification in the article of marriage ; that the
practice of widows throwing themselves on
the funerrj-pilc of tliofr husbands, were not
confined to the Hindoos, hut that something
of the kind could be adopted here—as, in
stead tf worrying us to death, it would then
"become the gramt aim of tlicir existence t*
"keep us alive alive as long as possible.
Or-pcrhapX if the husband were to incur the
penalty, it would he as well; it would ci-rfi-jn
ty tend to a diminution of the number of ,1. r-
Viagcs—nresult wh'di, besides sitting tin
Malthusian* at rest for ever, no slight ;u!\ a;n
tage—would have a sci.Nhle effect in the
. •-■W-market, bv humh.'u-g tho coquitti.Y.
and taming thelf-tinagants. ' j' 1
•prejudice of the human mind an fivnorofmar*
Tinge j s’id a proneness to commit i? v.hcn a
nineteen, that creates the misehrf- It
men wore less ready to fall into the snnre,
Itainoi would he- less ll posed to make then.
wtnsthJe that they *in it. The more is
not the merrier, wVlhis case, j acre arc in
>'auceS, i know; where marriage is mdis
pcnsihleg such as, whri>a man has made up
his mind to take t. (linking. Nothing is
more uncomfortable, after spending an even
ing in the society ot a few glasses of bran
dy and water, than to return home iatc r knouk
at the wrong door for half cn hour, repeat the
operation at one for three quarters,
then recollect that you the yin
your pocket after all, open it, grope about in :
the dark, find your way into any room, care-]
V-ss whether it*be the landlady’s or not, and
fttl fast asleep before yon have g -' otic boot
®<L All this is unpleasant, and ho\ person so
intending to imlnlge shouW'ecrtainiy ntatri
moniarc his CJnd'tioTi, in cr.hr tluit !a nits
‘ Havb sotnebo y to take care of him. In cases
1 he this it w add be excusable ; but we ar<
ru c hour sc ing nr . riagbs committed upon
frivo’’ll* pret. riccij, when there is
1 1 call yno earthly occasion for it. One would
) think it was considered quite a pleasure to
| rcjeat the responses and to pay parsons their
[ fees-*—to cat fifteen shillings worth of cake,
[ anti go tra tiling in a shabby chaise*
1 make not these observations about wives
I with any desire to depreciate my own.—
Luckless and ill-fated is the wight who hath
| a partner prone to cards or paint, to throwing
| teacups, or dancing with first cousins not
! absolutely ill-looking. I pity him from the
very depth of tny spirit —yet I envy him.—
i Yes. his is an enviable state of existence to
[mine. What is a simple fracture or two, or
a slight scar on (he temple—on a dinner-ser
vice demolished—or the loss of the money
which you had put by for your summer ex
penses at somewhere, to an old card-player
that you hate ; or even the elopement with
t!ie not ill-’ooking first cousin, which is the
consequence of your remonstrance ? Alt
these are nothing to my sufferings, but tnev
spring from a different cause. \am not tor
mented with a bad wife i but I am tortured
—that is not the word, does not express what
1 mean—-with a good one. All my calami
ties arise from iny good-fortune ; my iildiscrib*
able misery lies at the door of my unspeaka
ble happiness. lam like a man who having
unfortunately drawn a prize of ten thousand
pounds, is immediately thrown Uy his credi
tors into prison for twenty thousand; or I re
semble the unhapey winner of the prize-ox
lately‘raffled for, whose appetite reduced the
envied possessor of the beast to tile verge of
bankrupey. lam ruinod, I repeat, by my
good fortuc. Ilad “my wife” been less amia
ble, I had been less afflicted ; but she is per
fection—and lam undone. Oh ! ye, who
love—but have the incalculable advantage of
not being .beloved in return ; ye, whose
wives toward your devoted attention with the
most profound and unmitigated hatred; ye,
who never knew what it was to lie doatedon
to a degree of inconvenience, which, as nov-|
els and newspapers remark, “ may be more
easily conceived than described”—-how little
able are ye to sympathise with tee! lam
the very victim of “my wife’s” idolatry, the
martyr to tny own felicity. Her affection for
to .■ is of that microscopic kind that siic is
perpetually detecting some horrible omen in
what 1 had foolishly looked upon a3 a pros
pect of pleasure. She finds Idols upon my
sun when 1 fancy it all brightness. She sees
poison in every thing thajt 1 happen, by anv (
chance, to have a partiality for. She is such
a faithful guardian to my happiness, and takes;
extraordinary care of my comforts, that she
never lets me have any for use. Every dis-!
aster that has happened to me for these ten j
years may be clearly traced to her precau-,
turns for avoiding it. Lost I should git into
any danger, or rather lest her affectionate
spirit should miss the delight of sharing it
with me, she never trusts me out of iter
sight. There she is always at tny elbow,
taking care, a3 she says, that I want for
nothing-
“a form of life and light,
That seen because a pari of 9iglit ! •
And row' where’er 1 turned mine eye—”
In fact, I s&n’t turn it, upon the most trival
objection,without undergoing a cross-examin
ation to as my motive for looking at it. If mv
eve happened to fall upon the window or be
turned towards the 1 am saluted w ith—
“ \Vhat is :he matter ! Are you going out ?”
—if iny glance wanders round the room she
remark it, and says—“ Can I get you any
thing !” or if it be tixed for a moment on the
lire—“ You are cold. Shall 1 ring for some
eoals ?”—nay, if i glance, though c-er so
carelessly, at the girl who brings them—the
same question is ready; —“What do you
want ? any thing that I can get for you?”—
Her tender rogard for my health takes place
of every other feeling; I have been a most
pitiable invalid for many years —not that 1
feel ill—quite the contrary ; you would think
me remarkably strong and healthy ; but “my
wife” knows better—she is aware that i am
of a most delicate and sickly constitution, and
she accordingly abridges my beef-steak ami
locks up my cigars, with a firmness that a
mounts to something philosophic. She sees
the water conic into my eyes—or mouth —
but without relenting. In short, she is the
most sensitive of women. She detects a fe
ver in the very opening of a door, and dis
covers a rheumatism in every keyhole. She
never uses an umbrella until she is sure it is
thoroughly aired ; is seized with an ague at
the sight of tho damp newspaper regularly
every morning; and once experienc'd in
ilamaiion, which she attributed to her having
incautiously drank some water out of a wet
glass.
I said that I would paint her portrait and
then tell my story ; I ln;vc finished my pen
and ink sketch ; and my wtory will bring me
to tiie end of my paper. The adventure rose
out of that inces:. nt a; .! amiable anxiety for
my health which I cannot too touch admire—
or lament.
“I\oplc rannot he too careful of them
selves, particularly at this trying season.—
Now do take it, dear l, .”
.*• >Ji ! ro, it would be quite unnecessary.”
“You arc so careless. Who is to ntir.se
you if you catch cold ? Now, oblige me by
taking it—you \-d better.”
“Ridiculous! llowcan you press it upon
me ’vhcn l say so positively that 1 don’t want
it. I never heard of such a tiling, and it
would he , ally absurd.”
“Not so absurd as your refusal. I can’t
cc.r>ceivc why you shouid make so many scru
pl s —w hen it’s all for your owii good. I'm
sure you'll catch cold. You know your cough
is very bad u 1 ready — the r-. it’s coming on
| now ; it will spoil ill the folds of your cravat
: before dinner. I’ray oblige me; f* reasona
| hie and put it in your pocket- Well, it’s
j very teasing of you—l'm sure you might as
well.”
’l’hc article which was so assiduowly and
tenderly pressed upon my attention, hut which
l person riugly declined accepting, was by
no means a ;omnutic one. It was not one ot
those infallible and heaven-invented restora
tives for which all fcmal- s —hut eldi rly ones
especially—arc- so deservedly celebrated. It
wps neither charm nor cordial; no, it w.:
<<?hing more er less than—a nightcap 1 Tit
dialogue took place just a.s I was on the po>
of going out to dinner, au nt, for the cv-.n
, ing was wet, and ‘ro wife” for once Insit;’-
it.-il •oshaev th r - liormes -vhi.-'i saw e # --
cumulating round my head. It was too late
to scud an excuse; 1 was obliged to go —
“my wife” insisting that I should not think,
under any circumstances, of returning home
I through the night-air, but that 1 should make
| up mv mind to take a bed at tny friend’s.—
; Having without much ditliculty gained tins
point, she pertinaciously petitioned for anorli
cr ; and ever watchful for an opportunity of
exercising the privileges of a guardian angel,
; insisted on my taking with me my nightcap,
i Vainly did J assure her that it was utincCcs
ary ; that where 1 found a pillow I should
find a cap; or in the event of the worst, that
I should still be able to hit upon some means
or protecting tny temples from cold, and my
curls from disorder. 1 was set down for a
visionary, a rash, thoughtless enthusiast.—
“Insides,” said my amiable torturer, “ even
if you sixovcd find a cap upon the pillow,
1 which, considering the uncertainty of this
! life, does not appear more than probable ;
( but even if you should, it may not be aired
as it ought to be. As for trusting to chance
I own I am surprised at your imprudence.—
: A dependence upon providential interference
i is a becoming feeling in some cases, but not
J in this, whetj the means of averting calamity
| arc already in your power. Now take it
; without another word—here it is, as white—
“as your arm.” ,
“Nonsense ! Hut besides all the reasons 1
have stated, I must coulbss that 1 should not
like you to wear any but your own natural
nightcap. You would look like somebody
j else in another, and 1 should have unpleasant
dreams 1 should see you approach in an
odious caricature of a cap, not in a nice,
: neat, becoming ornament like this. I’tn sure
I never saw a more graceful head-dress, con
sidering its shap-. Oh, 1 can’t bear the
thought of your wcaringauother. Ifyou Jove
me, if you wish to dream of me, you’ll take
this—unless you expect to find Fortunatus's.”
1 reasoned and romanced—smiled, scolded,
and humoured: but i persisted in adhering to
my principles, and rejected the nightcap in
disdain. At last the point was given up ;
my wife threw her arms round me, and assur
ed me that her anxiety was only for my good
’ ---! repeated the usual affectionate phrases in
; such cases made and provided—and we sep
i arated with a world of protestation on tny
part, and a universe of advice upon hers.
When I arrived a ! . my place of appoint
ment l found a pleasant party. Every bod)
was in high spirits. The ladies listen to our
compliments as if they had never heard them
before, and we, all •.au'du’d al each ctlter’s
jokes as if we had never told them ourselves.
We sat down to dinner.
Among tiie company was one of that class
o! lemales who may be designated ••saoguish-l
iug ladies, Who was young, ivindsoutp, pos- 1
sesst l extreme sensibility ,an ardent fancy, i
and reftn<hi nerves. A whisper affected her
like an earthquake, and a hint threw her in
to hysterics* It was necessary,in addressing
her, to speak with piofbund caution, in case
ot giving alarm to her sensibilities, ot tr ad
ing upon a- u jo.uipssible tn
keep out of danger, unless every sentcite, i,., ( |
j been a salcty-lamp. I felt, in-offering a cone
i plitnent, as if I were presenting a spark to a
| brarcl of gunpowder ; and wms obliged to cx
’ tinguish its meaning before it was fit for
use.
We were seated in a circle of elegant en
joyment, not dreaming of disaster, when the
genius of this sensitive plant—she wrote
poctiy, just by way of escaping tho imputa
tion of singularity—was served up as a sub
ject for discussion. Unlucky theme for me!
1 was sitting opposite to her, and was appeal
ed to, in a uianuer that rendered it impossi
ble to escape, for my opinion upo.i'tlic merits
of an unpublished poem, which she had a
little time before sent me to read, and which
I had returned, (having read three lines of
the three thousand,) with the usual flourish
about an “admiring world,” and “Mr. Mur
ray’s good fortune” in obtaining so extraordi
nary a production. Of course, nothing is so
easy as to give an opinion —mine was, that
the poem could not fail of becoming a dan
gerous rival to the “statue that enchant: the
world,* and that it was, in short, nothing less
than a miracle in manuscript. I hate y'our
bit-and-bit eulogists, and like to do the tiling
handsomely when Ido begin. This was all
very satisfactory; but when I was asked to
describe the poem-—the stanza, the scene,
the subject—l was puzzled. Ail 1 knew was
tltUt it was written with a light hand and new
pen, and stitched in a pink wrapper. But to
describe it!—-1 was confident, of course, that
the hcioine died broken-hearted, beoause
that’s a rule w“bout a single modern excep
tion—but that was not enough. My hesita
tion already, I perceived, began to affect the
aspen nerves 4l the fair author. She was be
ginning to suspoct —while those who had
barbarously driven me into the dilemma,
w-erc beginning to titter. Something must
he doiie—and so 1 determined upon ventur
ing on’thc last resource in * nose cases, and on
trusting to candour to help me out. I con
fessed tka, I could not satisfactorily describe
the poem, as 1 had not been able to lyad it
quite through. At ;. out the two hundred
and fifty-third page an accident, which 1
could no particularly describe, had preven
ted my reading farther, and I had never after
been able to complete it._ The nature of this
mysterious accident, was then inexorably de
manded, by my persecutors —and to relieve
my embarrassment, and to gain time, I had
recourse to niv handkerchief. Avery good
effect i; sometimes produced, by taking a
neatly folded one by the corner, and giving it
a graceful jerk, so as to scatter the perfume
as you raise it to your lips. 1 took it from my
pocket for this purpose—it was folded up. I
held it by the rorne-r accordingly, and eleva
ted it to a becoming -height, in order that it
might fall with pro; er elegance and cffW.
I Imagine my astonishment, mv agony, my
r shame, it was—not my handkerchief, hut
) my—rd'.litcap! Alas! my too-fond, too care
ful wife, had, without i / knowledge, slipped
it. .to my pocket, when she embraced me at
my departure.
No culprit at the fatal no -.-ounglov
ier of money, with an old bride—mi monarch
| w hen tlm emblem of liberty, or revolution, is
I borne through his pai.ice halls—ever saw a
cap with >..eh utfi-r consternation: I held it
j up between my finger and tlimnh—not by
: flicro*-nor,tor it linl non bv the while
tassel flint adorned it. 1 was deprived of the
fiower of motion, n>y eyes fixed upon it; and
1 could neither drop it, no" the hand to which
it seemed to grow. There it hung, like Ma
homet’scolfin. It looked pale iviiii horror.
It was suspended before me, like a winding
sheet. It seemed like a concentrated snow
storm ready to burst on my head, iat length
cast a glanoe round the table. The female
portion of the spectators were endeavouring
to look grave and angry, amidst their laugh
ter. The rest did not attempt to ounce M the
naturecf tiie emotions uiy inadvertence hud
produced. The langhter was mul-sgrised,
and I felt that l must fight a duel with every
man in thoroom. I Ventured one half-avert
ed lobk at tiie fair poet, who had thus unin
tentionally conspired with “my wife” to bring
this disgrace upon my head, i read my his
tory in her eyes—the truth was too clear to
be a moment questioned. Iliad ben prais
inglier poem—l had dwelt with delight upon
its beauties—l had confessed that nn accident
had interrupted tiie nerusal;. nd when asked
what that accident was, 1 had in the most
pointed, public, and deliberate manner eleva
ted a night cap ? Could any declararion tell
more plainly, that 1 fell asleep over the pro
duction I had so satirically admired* What ?
to display a nightcap to a young and inno*
>ccnt Creature, who had probably nevet seen
her gr.-.idfather’s?—not even her little broth
er's, after the border was taken off? The
offence was beyond the hope of pardon, and
apology was Useless.
The lady spoke first—what I know 1 not* 1
only heard her stammer out something, like
an /Eolian harp afflicted with 'tbo palsy, or a
piano-forte with an impediment in its speech!
I could not reply. 1 had borne the laughter,
but it was impossible to encounter the. con
dolexce of the whole room. Retreat was mv
only refuge, and I determined at once to de
camp. 1 teigned a fishbone iti my throat, or
something equally inconvenient, pulled the
cap furiously upon my head—nay, over mv
eyes—and without uttering a word, or stop
ping to answer one, rushed hatlcss into a
hackney coach.
“My wife” watched over the progress of
my fever for three months, with the truest
and most tender affection. llow thankful the
kind-hearted creature was that the incident
had taken so serious an effect upon me !
afforded her such an admirable opportunity
of evincing her devotion. How grateful was
she for my sufferings !—she had die exqui
site enjoyment of alleviating them. I some
times think that she almost w ishes me dead
—for the pleasure of being utterly inconso
lable.
FrolA t>u Buffalo Journal ,
A Mom mu’s Love. —Deep is the foun-'
tain of a mothe r’s love. Its purity is like the
purity <!f the ‘sweet south’ that breathes upon
a bank of violet*. The tear drop speaks not
half its tenderness. There is it language in
a mother’s smile—but it betray* not all her
nature. 1 have sometimes tbo’t, while gaz
•ng on her countenance—its dignity slightly
changed, by tho. :-—“••**„♦ a/:coiiia-ftf her
young child, as it repeated, in obedience,
! some endearing word—that the sanctuary of
Ia mother’s heart is fraught with untold vir
tues. So fondly, so devotedly she listens to
[ its accents, it would seem tiiat she catches
! from them a spirit that strengthens the bonds
of affect ion. 1 have seen the mother in al
most every condition of life—Hut her love
j seems every where the same. 1 have heard
her hid, from her bed of straw, her darling
child com* and reciette the impress of her
bps ; and as hot*feeble strains mingled in the
air, 1 have thought there was loneliness in*
them not unlike tiie loneliness of an angel’s
melody. And I have seen the mot tier at her
fire side deal out her last morsel to her little
ones so pleasantly, that her own cravings
seemed appeased by the pleasure -die enjoyed.
But who, that is not a mother, can feel as she
feels ? We may gaze uport her as she sings
the hi Ha by to her infant, and read in iicr eye
the index to her heart’s affections—wc may
study the demure cast of her countenance,
and mark tiie tenderness with which she pres
ses her darling to her bosom, but we Cannot
feel the many influences that operate upon
her nature. Did you ever mark tiio care with
which she watches the cradle Where sleeps
her infant? How quick she catches the low
sound of approaching footsteps ! With what
fearful earnestness she gazes at her little
charge, as the Sound intrudes ! Does it move?
Does its slumbers break ? How sweet the
voice that quiets it ! Surely, it secins that
the blood of hut one heart sustains the exist
ence of both mother and child. And did vou
ever behold a mother, as she watched tho re
ceding light ofher young hnbt-’s crriMerice?
It is a scene for the pencil. Words c.mnot
portray the tenderness that lingers upon her
countenance. When the last spark has gone
out, what emotions agitate her ! When hope
has expired, what unspeakable regret over
whelms her !
1 remember to have seen a sweet boy home
to his mother w ith an eye closed fore, r, He
had strayed silently aw-ay at noon day, and
ere night fell, death had clasped him in its
embrace. The lifeless tenement of that dear
hoy, as it hurst upon the mother’s vision,
seemed to convey an arrow to .her heart—
When the first paroxysm of grief had suhsi
; ded, she laidhcrear to his lips, as if unwil-
I ’;ng to credit tale his pale com-tenance
bore. She put her hand upon his breast, hut,
she felt no beating there. She placed the
ends of her soft fingers upon big brow, but it
wascokl. She uttered aloud his name—she
listened—hut the echoing of that name elici
ted no responding voice. “Then came tin
misgiving that her child was ded.” She im
print and many a kiss upon hie cheek, and her
' tears mingled with the cold mej.sttire upon
, his brow:. Her notions betrayed a fear that
she could not do justice to her feelings—that
she could not express half the anguish of her
bosom. The silence that followed thatsCCi.
was like the siloncc of tin- sepulchre. It
i-Scoated of too holy a n-atur. to and sturh. There
was a charm in it—it was a charm hallowed
by the unstrained gu.-hes of a mothers love.
Did you ever awaken, while‘cm a hod of
sickness, and find a mother's iiand pressed
closely upon your forehead ? If, is pleasant
thus to break from a dream,' even w hen afflic
tion is o:i vou. You are assured that you
have -it least'>ne friepd. and that that friend
is a true one. You are assured that if you
| never again go forth in the world, you will
uie lamented*—and when pain • and distress
are on you, such an assurance is consoling
At such a time, you can road more fully a
mother’s feelings than a tongue can express
them, The anxiety with which she gazes
upon*,O’!—the tenderness with which she
sympathises whh you—-the willingness with
which she supplies your wants —all serve to
.represent the secret working of her heart.
Hut a mother’s love is unceasing. Her
children, as they n -vancc in years, go cut one
by one into tiie world, and arc soon scattered
in the direction of the four winds of heaven.
Hut though rivers may tieperate them from
her, they separate not the bands of her affec
tion. Time and distance rather increase her
anxieties. She knows not the strength of
her attachments until the becomes scpera*ed
frmn her offspring. Until she bids a child
farewell, hef nature remains untric.r. But at
tiie dread moment of separation,she feels the
full weight of the many treasures of affection
she has unconsciously imbibed.
Mho can look coldly upon a mCthcr?—
Who, after the unspeakable tenderness and
care with which she lias fostered him through
infancy, guided him through childlic >d, and
deliberated with him through the perplexities
of opening manhood, can speak irreverently
of a mother ! Her claims to his affection are
founded in nature,and cold must be the heart
that oan deny tlitm. Over (lie grave of a
ffiend, of a brother, or of a sister, I would plant
the primrose, for it is emblematical of youth ;
J>iit over that of a mother, l would let the gfecn
grass shoot up unmolested ; for there is some
thing int' e sin: ,'e covering which nature
spreads upon the grave, tin t well becomes the
abiding place of decaying age*
. '—’J r ixiwi
Frflm the New-York Courier and Enquirer.
MONSIEUR CHAUBERT—'TIIE I’l K E
KINO.
Who has not lipard of (he lire King?—
the swallower of poisons ? The epicure in
arsenic and phosphorus ? tho tippler in boil
ing Florence oil ? The celebrated Monsieur
Cliaubert who uses melted lead to wash his
hands! and warms himself in an oven along
side a beef steak! Who has astonished ail
England, has arrived in thisLcitv, and is ex
hibiting his experiments in Clinton hall* He
is certainly the eighth wonder of the world
—the real salamander, to whom fire heat,
poison, &c. are perfectly innoxious.
On Thursday evening last he gave a pri
vate exhibition off us wonderful powers to a
select audience of scientific and literary gen-
Itlemen at tho lecture room of Clinton Hall.
jOn entering tiie IVtil the first tiling that
i.-.trikes the eyes of ttte spectator is a large
: oven built of bricks vgitl resting ou the ftffor
oi the building. lit tiie front of the oven rs
! a small platform wflli a table, lights, &c.
1 where Monsieur C’iauber performs his ex
! peri merits. On tiie opening of the exhibition
j Mons’r C. made a sport address in English ;
! peculiarly marked ijowever, by a foreign ac
’cciit. lie assured the audience that there
! was not the slightest trick or deception in
! any of his experiments, he counted the mi
-1 nutist igvcstigatiqn of every scientific gentle*
> i.r*n lit tile toe':in
' The exhibition commenced with a red Lot
)shovel, which lie drew over his face and
ito .gue with the greatest sangfroid imngin
; able. Not the slightest injury was inflicted
[oil him. He also drew it over liis Lair with
[the same result. “Try gentlemen” said 4 he
[ “and satisfy yourselves.” Several gentlc
| men reached up their fingers and placed
! them on his Lair and cheek. They drew them
! hack with all imaginable haste as if they had
been touching tiie shovel itself. His face and
' hair wav covered with hi# antidote, and lie
i told them so. This excited much surprise.
! Hi s next experiment was with Sealing wax.
|He held the wax to the candle and dropt it
! m his tongue. “Does any gentleman want
ito take a seal and give it the impression?”
| No one seemed desirous of that office', and
! Monsieur C. took up a portion of the wax
I between his finger and-thumb and drew it in
a siring from his tongue. He prssed over to
i other experiments, and prepared to take the’
! poison-—He told the company that he would
' take from 30 to 40 grains of phosphorus, 4
| grains of which is sufficient to kill any indi
j vidual. “If any gentl.vnan, however, wishes
jto use Ids own phosphorus, I will do so,”
] said he. Mr. v/hilton, the chymist, had
: brought some phosphorus with him. llcde
[ sired his young man to take it out and weigh
j off 40 grains. He did so, in the presence ol
| the medical men. “Let me try that,” said
j Mon'r C. He took a small portion and rub
j bed it against apiece of paper. It produced
j ignition immediately. “!.)at is ver gopd*—
: Very good,” said Monsieur. At hi3 request,
!)r. Yates undertook to administer the dose.
!it was put into a spoonful of water. Mon’r
! knelt down, put his hands hell did his hair,
| Imd Ids stock taken off—“No-.v,” wild he,
’“I am ready ” —Dr. Yates proceeded ami
I poured it into his mouth. “Well,” said the
; Doctor, with a sigh, “1 never administered
such a dace before in my life.” When every
| particle was swallowed, he Called on the
! company to examine his u-ruth and see that
! no deception was practised ; to satisfy them
i selves that it was not hid in his mOiTth. Sev
eral medical men didgo. They were perfect
ly satisfied. The* put their fingers into his
M.Voutb, and can.--down from the pluUorm in
j uftcr astonishment.
j The next experiment was w ith melted
'lead. He took a tin pah full of melted lead,
( and plunged his fingers into it, took a por
tion in Ins hand, and made Believt, he was
j washing the tips cf his fingers. “No mistake,
' gentlemen,”said ! “put your lingers hove.”
Several did so, and Wore glad to take them
front the vessel again. They were perfectly
j satisfied.
The nc :' experiment was swarnvinga
i.spoonfnl ot Florence oil. A tin pan* full of
this liquid was ht.-uied to the hoilii :- point,
iln for - the tdience. lie then rook the ves
| scl and plunged a Fahrenheit thermometer
j into the I oiling liquid, and exhibited the in
strument to the gentlemen. It stood at 340.
I ‘ .Satisfy yourselves.” I/e then took a spoon,
j dipt it ►.i the oil, filled it, put it in his mouth
| ind actually swallowed it down. fdvery per
-1 son present was satisfied tiiero was node-
Iceptieii practised. “What a fellow!” said
one. “Why, s:;iu auou:*.*, a , w ,
not to be named to‘c.ua i, " 1
,i!;inus to liim.” “WilC Ct'Z"*’ °
said a third, “behind Moosumr (V'T 1 '
and sec if hi., feet are not cfoveu ” ' n
“Now genlie-men,” said Monsieur C -
shnil prepare to go into the oven ,Ji, ,
dish of beefsteaks with me to be
He retiree a few minutes to change .’
dress. Doctor Pascal,s, who appeared
lie puzzled and perplexed at all (W ( v ' l
rime. its, took the opportunity to Men Z'
the oven and look in. He opened the ,L? ' i
thrust his hand in—He soon drew Wl.
“Howisthe oven Doctor!” asked
crphysician. . “By George I could go
self, replied the Doctor. Monsieur 2
beri, however, soon appeared, went i, tf
oven, roused up the fire; and made arm
menfs, He w ore over his dress a l ar <r e tM
great court. “Why do vou wear that
ed someone. It is all the same to me”!
he, “to go ia dr.sseu or undressed; if j "
in undressed, I must be very cautious w J'
come out not to catch cold.' I wear ac®
great coat over my dress, because it prcZ
me from catching cold; hr ides, I have!
become economical.” This was rcccr '
witli applause, lie then put the thermal
termto the Oven to ascertain the temneratw
“Bring the beefsteaks here." They 3
brought. He put them into a tin dish; S J
kleu, salt anti pepper on them. “1 lil ie ~|c
tv of streaks,” said tie, quite jovially. y O ,
gentlemen,” cried Monsieur, “come and!
t.,e thermometer; but you must look shati
because ihe least approach to the cold
will make it full rapidly.”
Three gentlemen went up to the oven i
examine. He seized tiie thermometer fro
the interior of the oven and hold it out ’
“How much f” It was several seconds befi*
they found tiie mercury and then it wasS.'i
“Oh” said he, “it is at Last 480, it has bl| (
snice I took it out.” He replaced the the
mometer, put a black cap on Lis head, fc
the dish of steaks placed along side of hi,
tool: a large tin tube which he protrudi
ihrough an aperture in the iron door to bret
through, and then entered the overi. I)!
ing his stay in the oven lie looked throe;
his tube, talked rapidly and sung a pro
French ; ir. lie was -•continually aski
“how many minutes gentlemen?” “](
many ?”—One.”—“Two”— l “Three.” -(
it must be more, gentlemen; oh it is \
hot, gentlemen; full 500 degrees; hmv;
ny minutes ?” “Four—Five—Six—Seva
Eight—minutes.” At eight minutes •
fifty one seconds from iiis entrance oat
bounced, came down on the all eov:
w'.’li perspiration. “Feel his "pulse” ct
several of the physicians. “Oh yes gen
men. feel iny pulse,” eaid he, hokfrog
lioth his arms. It was felt immediately
found to he as high as 160. “No d.-
lion” said he. “The devil a hit of dec
tion is there, “said one of the spectators
“Fetch me out the beef steaks,” said >1
I sieur, ‘they are well done now.” Tlkil
was brought down and quite a rush wasm
upon them. Every one tk-t could reach
platform, cut a piece off' and fell a eating
“ These steaks are very fine,” said one
“Rather too much done,” said anotln*
“ I hat fellow Chaubert,” said a grave leaiti
personage chewing his steak and leaving ■
room,”is Certainly his Satanic majesty h
i Drctor .Moot Went up to the oven,
j head into the door, drew it r. pidlvc
j and tiodded Very Significantly, as much a;
; say, “all right, no deception.” The rest
the spectators stood gazing, talking, and
pressing wonder, surprise, astonishment <5
&c.
Monsieur Chaubert was a captain in
service ol Napoleon. He was taken pri
or |>y tiie Russians and sent to Si hi
where it is supposed lie discovered kiss*
antidote to fire and poison. Tw*> yrars;
he excited great astonishment in Lonl
and satisfied ihe colleg* of Physicians
Surgcous, that there was no deception in
! experiments. lie was offered £500(1
[ ins antidote to prussic acid, but wowM
take less than £IO,OOO. lie has a fatnil;
ten children—is a good looking man—n
an oval face and fine person. He W
mustuelieos. Ho is quite talkative and
tclligent, speaks fourteen lai.auagcs-
Eiiglish lather incorrectly. He is trdj
wondrous wonder. -
From the Western Souvenir.
TIIE DESERTED CHILDREN.
A REAL INCIDENT.
In "the Autumn of the year 1823, a i
was descending the Ohio river with tl
small children in a canoo. lie had lost
wife, and in the emigrating spirit of out
pic was transporting his all to anew com
where he might again begin the world,
riving towards evening at a small island,
landed there with the intention of uncain|
for the night. After remaining a short I
he determined to visit the opposite-shore
the purpose probably of purchasing p
sions; and tolling his children that he v
return to them, he paddled off leaving*
alone on the island. Unfortunately he ir.t
the shore with some loose company tfj !o
viledhim to drink ; he became ictoMCt
and in attempting V> return to die islam
the night, was drowned ; the canoe fh
away and no one knew of the cafastroph
tii tiie following day. The poor dt
children in the meanwhile wandered a
the uninhabited island,- straining their
eyes to catch a glimpse of their father. ■'
came, aid! they had no fire nor food — n0
to rr • t upon, and no parent to waten
them- 'i’hc v '.ather was extremely cold
the eldest child, though but eight /.J
age, remembered to have heard that p*
w ho slept in the cold were sometimes and
to death,—she continued therefore to"-
about, and when the younger children
out with fatigue and <irow: inn •* were n
drop into slumber, she kept them awa ;
amusing or alarming-stones.
At last nature ceuld hold out no
and the little • ties chilled and acliiu- r
coldj threw themselves o;; the ground,
her sister sat down and spreading <lH
garmerds as wide as possible, drew tk 1
her lap and endeavoured to impart ,0
the warmth of her own bosom as
sweetly in her arm?. Morning r! "'