necessary that the power should be placed somewhere; but it does not follow that the depositary of this power should be elated with its possession, and exercise it with capricious or offensive coercion. It should be exercised with all gentleness and temperance, and never unnecessarily displayed. It may exist and be perfectly efficient, without attracting notice, even from the parties most interested. Once established, it should exert its power, like the gentle dew from heaven, unseen, but ever salutary and beneficent. It needs only to be brought forward and applied in extreme cases; and these are and should be of very rare

occurrence.

Having thus considered the most imperative duty and the most important right of the husband, we now proceed to lay before the reader some passages from authors of high authority, in which the general subject is treated in a more full and particular manner.

DUTIES OF THE MARRIED.

Their

WOMEN are formed for attachment. gratitude is unimpeachable. Their love is an unceasing fountain of delight to the man who has once attained it, and knows how to deserve it. But that very keenness of sensibility, which, if well cultivated, would prove the source of your highest enjoyment, may grow to bitterness and wormwood if you fail to at

tend to it or abuse it. I know some men who, when soliciting a favour, and when even denied it, and sore disappointed, will yet bear patiently and quietly with the pride, the haughtiness, and the ill-humour of the person who is able to confer it; and yet the same men will irritate the sensibility and wound the feelings of those tender friends who hold in their hands their happiness for life.

There lies much, indeed, in making choice of a woman worthy of your esteem; but, at all events, endeavour to make her so; and the best way to do it is to make yourself worthy of hers. Your interest and your happiness require that you should appear amiable and respectable in the eyes of your wife; and you will love her, independently of any other consideration, for the love she bears to you. This is the whole mystery of the union; and it is much easier to comprehend than it is to overstrain and keep up the mind to that high stretch of imaginary feelings with which the union at first commences. If you wish to obtain from this lasting union the satisfaction which it can bestow, you must endeavour, as I said, to conceive your wife worthy of your esteem. If any demon, envious of human felicity, should whisper that she is not so, spurn the idea, and lay not the deleterious unction to your soul.

It is not at all improbable that you may discover defects in her temper and character which love concealed from you before marriage. But remember that it may be your own fault that

something substituted in place of that love has not concealed them. Still you may think for a while that it is impossible to shut your eyes against certain weaknesses and imperfections of character, either on the one side or the other; but it is to the husband I write at present; and I say, if it is impossible to shut your eyes to imperfections, surely it is not impossible to open them to gratitude, esteem, and attachment; and proper conduct on your part will secure these from the woman of your choice. It is too common to see a man of great and shining abilities selecting his friends, both male and female, from those only who pretend to admire his character. This is a weakness in human nature which can never be overcome; and is often of great value in the literary world, where many an author has nothing else to carry him forward save the approbation of a few friends.

But in marriage this is a serious consideration. It is not the girl who pretends to be enraptured with your poem in her album-with your pleading at the bar or your discourse from the pulpit-whom you ought to choose; for in these instances it is generally all pretence with them; and they just admire you in proportion as you pay attention to themselves.

But it should always be remembered that the union of marriage is one that must continue until one of the parties shall drop into the grave. There are many instances, I fear, where convenience, to the one party or the other,

is the sole inducement; but in most cases, it is begun with mutual feelings of esteem and affection. The declaimers of this topic-that is, the disappointed-never fail to cry out that innocence and beauty are prostituted for gain, if there is much inequality of years or circumstances. Even deformity, they say, will not stand long in the market, if it has the appendage of an estate; and that wealth, though in the possession of old age, and acquired by doubtful circumstances, has the command of beauty, youth, innocence, and virtue. This I always regard as a distorted representation of the loveliest forms of our nature, suggested by disappointment and malice, without any truth or probability to support it.

I can easily understand that a woman may be deceived by the ease and splendour which wealth and independence give to the exterior of her admirers; but it is impossible for me to believe that the frankness and generosity of that charming sex will ever permit them to sacrifice their feelings to their convenience. And I have often remarked, that such marriages as were deemed a little selfish by the world were the most regularly happy of any.

Women may be deceived by appearances, or by the importunities of their aged relations; but they will never enter into the holy state of marriage when their affections are not engaged. All conjugal felicity is built on this foundation; and if it is not your own fault, you may rear a superstructure upon it which will last the

whole of your life. Although there should not be that ardent and enthusiastic love which poets so fervently describe previous to marriage, or for a short time after the union has taken place, yet you may be assured, a man would not risk his happiness without esteem, nor a woman without affection. There must be something either in the character or good qualities which has brought the parties together. In the country parts of Scotland such a thing as an unhappy marriage is not known.

This induces me to believe that the greater number of marriages are infinitely happier than those who never tried the state will allow. Can we conceive any condition in which there is a fairer chance of happiness? in which friendship is so firmly cemented? in which hope is so sweetly excited? and in which so many tender relations rise up around you to fill and to expand the human heart?

"Yes,' says the cynical unmarried man, "you, indeed, show us the remote objects of a landscape-so remote that no person has ever discovered them before; but bring us nearer home, if you please, to the houses and firesides of this happy junction of hearts, and what do you find there?" In the little acquaintance I have had with the world, I have calculated that where there was one really unhappy junction, legally and decently made, there were at least a hundred happy ones; so that the lottery of marriage can never be a