er.

Nothing, however, can be more injudicious than for her to take part in these family matters. If possible, she ought to wait and see for herself, before her opinion is formed upon any of the subjects in question. And this, by great care, may be done without any violation of that respectful behavior which she ought to lay down for herself as a rule, in associating with her husband's relatives, and from which she ought never to deviate, let her opinion of their merits and attractions be what it may.

It is sometimes supposed that the maintenance of personal dignity is incompatible with this exercise of respect towards others. But on no subject do young people make greater mistakes, than on that of dignity. True dignity must always be founded upon a right understanding of our own position in society; for the presumption which would assume what properly belongs to another, and what in no way appertains to the individual who makes this lamentable mistake, is as far removed from dignity, as from right feeling and common sense. As a wife, then, a woman may be always dignified, though, simply as a woman, she may at the same time be humble, and as a Christian selfabased. As a wife-as the chosen companion of an honorable and upright man, it is her duty so to regulate her whole conduct, that she shall neither offend others, nor bring of fence upon herself; and this is never more effectually done, than by standing aloof from family disputes, and taking no part either in the partialities or the prejudices of those with whom she is associated.

It is perfectly consistent with personal dignity, that a wife should in all respects be the mistress of her own house. If, therefore, the husband's relations have been accustomed to

Correct-minded persons will need no hint of this kind from the wife herself. Such persons will be sufficiently aware, that the interior of her establishment must be kept sacred to her alone; and that, while the greatest freedom is maintained both in asking and in granting favors, there must be no intrusion on their part into the mysteries of the kitchen, the store-room, or the pantry, without an invitation from the mistress, either expressed or implied.

Should there be wanting in the husband's relatives this peculiar kind of delicacy of feeling, it will be necessary to devise some plan calculated not to offend, by which they may be made to understand that you do not wish them, in your own house, entirely to share all things in common; for let the degree of kindness on both sides be what it may, your education and theirs will in all probability have been so different, that circumstances must necessarily arise, calculated to draw forth re marks which cannot always be acceptable; and it is therefore your wisest plan, to draw the line of demarcation on the side of safety.

Nor is it necessary that in thus asserting your rights, suspicion should be awakened of any want of kindly feeling. To obviate all chance of this, it would be wise to take advantage of the advice of your husband's relatives in all cases where they are willing to give, and where you are prepared to adopt it; and, at the same time, to be careful that an excess of kindness should accompany that uncompromising defence of your own dignity, which every woman has a right to make. No room will then be left for complaint, and you will enjoy the satisfaction of showing your husband how highly you esteem his relatives, and how much you are prepared to serve and to oblige them for his sake.

It is a painful fact, and one of vulgar notoriety, that all eyes are fixed upon a bride, some to see how she is dressed, others to observe how she behaves, and not a few to ascertain, as far as they are able, whether she

has come from a respectable home, or, in other words, whether she has raised herself in worldly circumstances by the connection she has made. This exercise of idle and impertinent curiosity might appear a little too contemptible to be met with any kind of consideration, were it not the interest of a married woman to impress her new relations with an idea of her previous importance, and her unquestionable claims to respect. Even servants are much influenced by this impression, and it was, therefore, a prudent plan adopted by our grandmothers, and still kept up in some parts of England, for the bride to go well appointed to her husband's home, well supplied with a store of good household linen, and with abundance of such clothes as are not likely to become useless by being unfashionable. These things are accustomed to be discussed among servants and dependants. From one little circle of kitchen or laundry gossip, they extend to another; and well if they do not find their way through the same channel to the parlor fireside; well, if the humiliating remark is never made there, that the bride left every thing of importance to be purchased with her husband's money.

Although it may seem rather an ungracious sort of warning, thus to prepare the young bride for a kind of critical inspection scarcely consistent with kind and generous feeling, it is nevertheless necessary in such a world as ours, to calculate upon much which the external aspect of society would scarcely lead us to expect. Yet we must not for this reason forget the many instances in which the most sincere and cordial kindness is called forth on the part of the husband's relatives, when they welcome to her new home one who is literally received into the bosom of their family, and cherished as a lamb of their own fold.

In the majority of cases, too, it happens that the bride is no stranger, that her family and her husband's have been in habits of intimacy, and that the admission of this new link is but the strengthening of that intimacy into more enduring and affectionate union on

both sides. In both these cases, the bride has much to console and to support her in the duties she has undertaken; and a young heart can scarcely fail to feel impressed with gratitude for this voluntary offering of a new and lasting home, with all its kindred associations of parents, brothers, sisters, and friends.

If, on the one hand, it is not only lawful but expedient to endeavor to maintain that dignity which properly belongs to a married woman; on the other, it is necessary to act with the most scrupulous regard to that minute and delicate line, beyond which dignity degenerates into a mere assumption of importance. It is unquestionably an honorable distinction to be the chosen companion of an enlightened and good man; but we must not forget, that nature never yet formed any woman too destitute of attractions, or sent her forth into the world too meanly endowed, for her to be chosen as a wife. The dignity derived from marriage can, therefore, only be a reflected one; and has nothing whatever to do with the merits or the capabilities of the married woman.

I once heard a newly married lady complaining in company with great vehemence of something which had been said to her by a single sister, and concluding many of her sentences with this remark-"All that Miss B― said was, I dare say, sensible enough; but I, you know, am married"—as if that alone had been sufficient to give weight to the scale in which good sense, and almost every other good quality, appeared to be wanting.

In no part of the conduct of the bride will keen eyes be more scrutinizing than here. The husband's relatives especially will be ready to detect the least assumption of superiority to themselves. If, therefore, there has been any difference of rank or station in favor of the bride, she will act most wisely as regards herself, and most generously as regards her husband, by keeping every sign or evidence of her having filled a more exalted station entirely out of sight.

All her eccentricities, too, must share the

same fate, at least, until her new relations shall have learned to love her well enough to tolerate them for her sake. At first there will be no such charitable feeling extended towards those peculiarities of character with which they cannot sympathize, perhaps because they cannot understand them. She must now be judged of by a new rule. Singularities of manner, scarcely perceived at home, or kindly borne with as a necessary part of individuality, will now appear not only glaring, but inconsistent and absurd. Faults of temper, too long, and perhaps too leniently indulged, will now be met with opposition, and have the necessity of their existence called in question; while all those little playful sallies of local wit or humor, which were wont to fill up the blanks of social life, may possibly be heard without a smile, or wondered at as unmeaning, and in bad taste.

It is unquestionably the best policy then for a bride to be in all things the opposite of eccentric. Her character, if she have any, will develop itself in time; and nothing can be gained, though much may be lost, by exhibiting its peculiarities before they are likely to be candidly judged or rightly understood. In being unobtrusive, quiet, impartially polite to all, and willing to bend to circumstances, consists the great virtue of a bride; and though to sink, even for a short time, into an apparent nonentity, may be a little humbling to one who has occupied a distinguished place amongst her former friends, the prudent woman will be abundantly repaid, by being thus enabled to make her own observations upon the society and the circumstances around her, to see what pleasant paths she may with safety pursue, or what opportunities are likely to open for a fuller development of her powers, either natural or acquired.

With regard to the duties of charity, and indeed of kindness in general, the cordial reception a bride usually meets with, the interest she has so recently excited, and the favorable aspect worn by every thing around her, naturally inspire in her mind so much that is agreeable in return, and awaken on

her part so many feelings of kindness and good-will, that she becomes more than usually anxious to manifest her benevolence, even towards persons, who, under less favorable circumstances, would have excited no interest whatever.

Those who make it their business to check such feelings, have a hard and ungrateful duty to perform; and yet, where the foundation of such acts of benevolence as are thus performed, is feeling only, the danger is, that a system of behavior will be rashly adopted, which the emotions of after life will not be sufficiently powerful consistently to maintain; and the consequences of such falling off will necessarily be, that the sorrowful or the indigent will have to endure a degree of disappointment or neglect, for which they were but little prepared.

There can be neither injustice nor unkindness in not listening, in the first instance, to claims which you are not able to satisfy; but there is cruelty-absolute cruelty, in withdrawing your attention and interest from persons who have learned to look to you for sympathy and cordial feeling, and in refusing your assistance to those who have learned to look to you for support. As each person can only satisfy a certain number of claims, it follows as a necessary consequence, that by engaging at once in too many, some, or perhaps all, must in the end be suffered to fall into neglect.

The first year of married life may justly be regarded as not likely to present one half of the claims upon individual or household charity which will follow in the second and the third; would it not, therefore, be wise to lay by against a future day, a little fund or store for this purpose? and by always keeping something in hand to be appropriated to charitable uses alone, there can be no surprise when the payment of a bill is due, to find that part of the amount has already been given to relieve a family in distress, and that the payment of the whole must therefore be deferred. All such miscalculations, and falling short of funds as these, cannot be too scrupulously guarded against; for not only is

their influence bad, as they operate against the prompt discharge of pecuniary debts, but their tendency is equally to be feared, as they often warp the mind from its benevolent and kindly purposes, by a frequent repetition of regret that sums have been thoughtlessly expended in charity, which ought to have been otherwise employed.

And here I would observe, that the less we are induced by circumstances to grudge our past charities, or regret our past kindness, the better it is for our own hearts, and for the general tone and temper of our minds. Indeed, where acts of charity are performed with right motives, not for the applause of men, or even for the satisfaction of having done a good deed, or brought about a good end; but simply from a love to God, and in obedience to his commands, there can be no such thing as looking back with regret to the act itself, whatever its consequences may be. He who has commanded us to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, has not given us more than human penetration to judge of the exact amount of their necessities, or their deserts. If, therefore, we have erred, it has only been in the proportion, or the application, of our bestowments. The act of giving remains as much a duty as ever, and to her who has learned to look upon the good things of this life as only lent to her for a brief season of trial, this sacred duty will be found connected with the highest enjoyments of which, in our present state of existence, we are capable.

But in order to enjoy the luxury of giving with the greatest zest, it is highly important that we attend to the strict rules of economy. I have already written much, and would that others would write more, and better, on this subject; for until we can separate in the minds of young women their favorite idea of lavish expenditure, from that of generosity, there is little good to be expected from the Wives of England, and little happiness to be looked for in their far-famed homes. Would that philanthropists of every description then, would give their attention to this subject in detail, and lay it before the public

in a manner that would render it intelligible to the female part of the community; while, communicated through them, it would find its way to every house and every cottage in our land-not that economy which would lead to a useless hoarding up of money, but to the glorious object of effecting the greatest possible amount of good with the smallest means.

Until this most refined and delicate art is made systematically a part of female education, we must look to that stern teacher experience, to show us, late in life, what might have been accomplished by a combination of economy with kindness, had we but begun the study of this delightful art in time. We must look to the items that have been absolutely wasted, in almost every thing we have had to do, for want of being acquainted with a better mode of doing it; and, adding these together, we must look to the helpless and the destitute, and see what an amount of suffering might have been relieved by our economy, if through a long lifetime we had turned every thing committed to our care, or granted for our use, to the best possible account. But we must look beyond this. Yes, we must look with blushing and confusion of face to that want of moral rectitude which rendered us worse than ignorant of the mischief we were doing to that culpable and degrading apathy-that recklessness of all responsibility with which we conducted our domestic and personal affairs, regardless of each item wasted, until the whole became a mighty and fearful mass of evidence against us, perpetually reminding us, through the medium of our penurious charities, our scanty means, and our apprehensions of the fearful reckoning of each coming day-reminding us by these humiliating remembrancers of what we have lost beyond all possibility of recovery.

I am not, however, one of those who would recommend the sacrifice either of comfort or respectability for the sake of economy. A certain air of comfort, a certain degree of respectability, regulated by the sphere in which the parties move, should never be lost sight of by the mistress of a house. More especially, there should be no meanness behind

the scenes, to support an unwarrantable display in public. There is a moral degradation in such meanness wherever it exists; and those persons who have habitually to hide themselves, or to conceal their dinner-table, when a guest approaches, must be living either above or below the line which strict integrity would point out to be observed they must either be making a figure at other times, and in other places, which they are not able consistently to support; or they must be dressing and living beneath that standard of respectability which properly belongs to their character and station.

In order to proportion all these matters fairly, the bride must be content to wait until time and experience shall have brought to light her true position, and her actual means. The first year of married life will probably be less expensive than the second, and the second less so than the third. Her house hold furniture, and her own clothing, being good and new, there can be little wanted for repairs; and, therefore, in her domestic expenditure, as well as in her charities, this year will afford no true criterion of the claims she must afterwards expect.

It is, perhaps, owing to this fallacious appearance in their domestic affairs, that so many inexperienced persons are led on to purchase first one article of luxury or indulgence, and then another, even after their better judgment had dictated that such things should be done without; and thus, because they did not find housekeeping at first so expensive as they had anticipated, they have launched out into extravagance which they have had bitterly to regret. Such persons are apt to say, "there can be no loss in furniture, each article will always sell for its full valuethere can be no waste in silver, because it is easily got rid of for the price of its own weight." But what absurdity is this! As if, after having made a certain figure before the world, and in society, it was as easy to retreat and sink into a lower grade, as it is to sell a sofa, or a silver fork. Why, this very act of assuming a certain position, and this very dread of falling back, is what the

whole world is striving about at this very hour. It is what so many heads are calculating upon, what so many hands are working out, and what so many hearts are beating for. Whether we look at the wear-andtear of mental and animal life in our great cites, our ships upon the ocean, our laborers on the land, our congregated thousands pent up in heated rooms, and our miners digging in the bowels of the earth; or whether we turn the page of man's history, and looking at the inner movements of this great principle, behold him in his moments of unrest, note down the fluttering of his ambitious hopes, the agony of his suspense, his disappointment or his triumph, it is all the effect of one great cause, and that the strongest and most universal which prevails in highly civilized communities-a desire to keep advancing in the scale of society, and a dread of falling back from the position already held.

Let us thon at least talk common conso; and in doing this, I would advise the newly married woman to look at things in general as they really are, not as they might be. She will then see, that nothing is more difficult to human nature, than to come down even one step from any height it has attained, whether imaginary or real. If, therefore, the appearance a young couple make on their first outset in life be ever so little beyond their means, so far from their being willing to reduce their appearance or style of living to a lower scale, they will ever afterwards be perplexed by devices, and harassed by endeavors, to maintain in all respects the appearance they have so imprudently assumed. This perpetual straitness and inadequacy of means to effect the end desired, is of itself sufficient to poison the fountain of domestic concord at its source. It is bad enough to have innumerable wants created in our own minds which our utmost efforts are unequal to satisfy; but it is worse, as many thousands can attest, in addition to this, for the husband and the wife to be perpetually disputing at their own fireside, about what expenses can be done without, and what cannot. Yet all these consequences follow, and worse, and