There are others, who deem this sentiment a Weakness. If a lady find herself inclined to it, she should at once strive to subdue it. Much as one, whose face is marked by disease or accident, would fain conceal the blemish, so would she hide, even from a mother or sister, any experience of affection for a particular individual. Love is, in her view, a thing to be ashamed of, an infirmity, which, if one have not power wholly to escape, she should yet lock with eternal secrecy in her own bosom.

Now I ask, why should we blush for emotions, of which the God of nature implanted the germs within us? Is it weak to indulge a sentiment so productive of happiness as this, so essential to the wellbeing of the holiest bond on earth? Love is not a folly; in its purity, it is a noble, unselfish thing, the inspirer and friend of moral excellence. When I see a young woman pining over a hidden grief, which might have been spared, had she imparted her feelings to a friend; when I witness the mental powers tried, and at length overcome, by the struggles of a pent-up fire in the soul, I lament the sad error, to which these mournful consequences can be so directly traced. Why, if the object, especially, of her affection deserve and requite it, why should she bury it as a weakness in her soul? The cases are very rare, in which there is no one to whom a secret of this description may with propriety, and ought, to be frankly confided. The peril lies in concealment.

Some esteem love a Disease. They look upon her, who indulges it, as in an unsound condition. It is as if a member of the body were amputated, or maimed. The individual, on whom its visitations have been inflicted, is an object of compassion. Hence its approaches are actually dreaded. She who entertains this theory, instead of receiving cordially the advances of a gentleman, even a favorite, shrinks from the thought of it, and repels the intimations of any special attention on his part.

Is this well? Is it right so to deal with a sentiment common to the sex? Were it a disease, we should form exceptions to the rule. But since it is so almost universally experienced, why should one avert it from the heart? She who does this, misinterprets the human constitution. Let her study the purposes of Providence, and no more will she refuse the admission of this sentiment, when circumstances justify its encouragement, than she will decline taking food, lest it cause sickness and death. The laws of nature, she will see, extend over the spirit, no less than the body.

There are not a few who cherish Romantic ideas concerning the affections. They regard "marriage," in the words of another, "as an occasion to be preceded by fears, and hopes, and love's stratagems, by love-letters, passionate vows, sudden crosses, and intense joys." It is to transform the individual subject to its power, to fill her with sensations, which she cannot now even imagine. With this transcendental view of that passion, a young woman is likely to conclude that, for herself, she shall never see the person whom she can love. No angelic being, in human form, will ever cross her path, and therefore she shall always remain single. Anon she dreams of going into a nunnery,—"to pine away and die."

Now we cannot too early set about correcting these false imaginings and vain expectations. Poets may sing of love as convulsing the frame, and rending the heart, and transmuting a human sentiment into divine extasies. But in the sober experience of life, such rapturous emotions are exceedingly rare. Indeed all the deep feelings of our nature are tranquil. It is the shallow stream only, which dashes, and sparkles, and deafens us by its noise. If you ever know the power of genuine love, you will find it as calm as it is intense. It will be in harmony with your other pure sentiments. Never will it subjugate, and tyrannize over, and do violence to, your whole nature.

We have seen those,—and we suspect they belong to a numerous class,—who conceive that true love is attended by a Fatalism. It is first assumed, that every one must love some individual of the opposite sex. A necessity is laid on us all, it is thought, to bestow the affections in marriage. The question may not so much as be raised, "Is it certain that I shall ever meet with one to whom I can give my heart?" No, woman was made to love and to be married, that is her unalterable destiny. All that is to occupy her thoughts in this respect, is, "Who shall the individual be, on whom I must place my affections?"

This opinion is surely erroneous. For Providence has so arranged the circumstances of human life and of society, that some females are absolutely precluded from forming the matrimonial connection. Ill-health,—to name no other cause,—sometimes positively debars one from this relation. There are abundant reasons, indeed, for which every one, ordinarily situated, should contemplate marriage. It is the design of our physical and moral constitution, and the spring of unsullied enjoyments, social and spiritual; and no one should voluntarily exclude herself from this bond, save for imperious considerations. Yet let no young woman predetermine that hers may not be an exception to the general law. The inquiry should at least arise in her mind, "May I not be of those, whose usefulness and happiness do not absolutely require their entering the marriage state?"

But our friend thinks there is a fatalism not only in regard to her marriage, but in reference to the particular companion, with whom she must be associated for life. "Matches are made," say some, "in Heaven." Prudence has no concern with this matter. A young woman fixes her affections on some individual, and believes that it is decreed she should love and should marry him. If circumstances appear unpropitious to their intimacy, she is perfectly wretched. And this, not simply because she loves him so ardently, but because she believes a decree of Heaven will be violated, if their union fail of consummation. "Our presentiments," it is said "often work their own fulfilment." I cannot doubt, that, in the formation of the marriage bond, at least, they often do, and that with the saddest results.

What an idea is this, if one will steadily contemplate it. That the heart is not subject, in the slightest degree, to our dominion? That we must love, and love, too, one whom perhaps accident alone threw in our way! Are you, indeed, obliged by a physical or moral necessity, to marry this person, because he is an inmate of your father's household, or because you were both born in the same village, or because he has something in his countenance that tells you,—before a word has been exchanged between you,—that he must be your lover, and your husband? The picture needs but be presented one moment before a calm, dispassionate eye, to force on us the conviction that, if in any human transaction we are free to accept, and free to reject the offers of another, we are clearly so in this.

There are those who, passing to the opposite extreme, entertain the opinion that love is a sentiment, not only subject to human control, but capable of being entirely suppressed. They deem it altogether optional with themselves, whether they shall know anything of the affection between the sexes, or not.

Did this notion extend only to the relative power of the sexes, or the direction we may give to our hearts, it would be less objectionable. For doubtless love, though more essential to woman than to man, can be more easily controlled by her than by him. A person of a strong will may bring herself, for prudential considerations, to prefer in marriage one who will be "a good match" with her, as the phrase is, to another whom she sincerely loves. And she may succeed in subduing, to no ordinary degree, her affection for the rejected one. But to eradicate from the heart the powerful principle of love is not given, I believe, to woman. She may substitute another object for that which ought to have engaged this class of her affections. A mother, or sister, or a friend, may be installed in that place. Nay, I have known a mere animal to be caressed and apparently loved, as it could not have been, had the affections been properly bestowed on a human being. We can regulate and direct, but we cannot destroy, in the heart, the sentiment of love.

Some, again, associate with the thought of love the idea of our Lower Propensities. They regard it as an animal passion, and as debasing to the character. With false notions of delicacy, they determine to shun its snares, and hence strive to banish the impure thing from their minds, and to steel themselves against its access.

How unworthy of our nature, and of the Being who formed us, is this view. To those who entertain it, we must say, "what God hath cleansed, that call not thou common, or unclean." Far, indeed, are they, to whom we allude, from the elevated and true idea of that sacred tie, which joins the pure in heart. A better knowledge of their race would acquaint them with multitudes, who have proved marriage to be "honorable," and to whom love has been the chief refiner of their souls. That it may be perverted, we cannot, of course, deny. But that its legitimate tendency, is any other than to exalt, ennoble, and sanctify the spirit, we do not believe. So thorough is our persuasion of this, that we would commend the marriage relation to a seeker of moral excellence. We would say, that, in the hallowed sympathies of love are incitements to purity and piety. To her who earnestly desires to become spiritual, we would present the association in marriage with one spiritually minded, as, above all adventitious means, friendly to her holy purpose.

To how many is love a theme for Jesting and Sport. The ancients represented Cupid under the aspect of a boy engaged in amusement. He appears driving a hoop, throwing a quoit, playing with a nymph, catching a butterfly, or flying with a bright torch in his hand, shewing, in each case, that love is a subject for sport. Let heathenism, if it must, so regard it; but the Christian ought never to trifle with this sacred interest. The rite of marriage is a solemn thing. Who would jeer, and jest, as she stood before the altar, and pledged fidelity unto death to her betrothed partner? And why, I would ask, should the preliminaries of marriage be treated as a theme fit only for levity and merriment? It is said that we Americans are peculiar for banter on this subject. One scarcely hears it alluded to in society, except with a laugh, or a jest. As a natural consequence of this state of feeling, and this style of conversation relative to the affections, it is not easy to know when one speaks as he means on this topic. Not "seriously,"—for the matter is all sport,—not in "sober earnest" may you take what is said, since soberness is supposed to be wholly irrelevant to so light a subject.

And then too the effect of this practice on the feelings and deportment of the parties most nearly concerned, even during their engagement,—if this take place amid the bandying of jests,—is often unhappy. The same levity pervades their conversation and manners toward one another; and there is scarcely one sober sentiment, or calm thought, associated with their interviews.

So also has this habit a blighting influence upon the views with which the individuals are at length joined in marriage. What was commenced in gaiety and sport, and has been continued in the same spirit, is consummated in thoughtlessness. It is only when these scenes of mutual delusion and folly are over, and the two beings are united by an inseparable bond, and begin to feel the pressure of real duty and actual life, that they look on each other as rational creatures ought. The words, sacred, and principle, the thought of responsibility to God, ideas of solemnity, are now for the first time associated with marriage. Can this condition of mind be other than deleterious to the virtue, peace and happiness, of the parties involved in its effects? "O there is nothing holier, in this life of ours, than the first consciousness of love,—the first rising sound and breath of that wind, which is so soon to sweep through the soul, to purify, or to destroy!" So let every young maiden deem of this sentiment. None will then banter words with her upon her sacred affections; for there will be that in her air and language, when this topic is referred to, which shall convince every one that she holds it a consecrated theme.

In summing up my general remarks on the view to be taken of love, I would say, talk little with your companions about it; and resolve, if the topic can only be introduced by a jest, that you will preserve upon it a profound silence. This would at first make you appear singular. But such a course would soon commend itself to every considerate friend and acquaintance in your circle. Or, if some should persist in importuning and teazing you in regard to it, you would be sustained by the consciousness of exerting all your influence for the elevation of society in their views, and conversation, on the most holy of human connections.

Nor should the mind be permitted to dwell constantly upon this subject. Some are perpetually imagining themselves in love; others are dreaming over the philosophy of the affections, and wasting precious hours upon that which adds nothing to their happiness, and does little to prepare them for married life. Let the mind be kept tranquil on this subject; the heart will then be preserved in its soundness. No good affection will die or decay, but, in the time and method ordained by Providence, advances will be made, and the heart addressed, and the hand solicited for marriage. Let the young maiden bide the passing months in cheerfulness, and prepare herself for a Christian life. A character thus matured will give hope of the happiest results in new relations, and amid all the coming and unknown scenes that await her.



Chapter VII.

SINGLE LIFE.

A wrong idea. Some designed for Single Life. The "Old Maid's" reproach. Addison. Two errors, Reserve, and Forwardness. Virtues of Single women. Humanity. Modesty. Economy. Neatness. Usefulness. Hannah More. Miss Sedgwick. Miss Porter's "Aunt Rebecca." Avoid affectation. Advice of Mrs. Hall. Two essentials, Mental Cultivation, and Industry.

Marriage is not seldom regarded as "our being's end and aim;" hence a young woman is often filled with a feverish anxiety to form this connection, or at least to enter on its preliminaries, at an early period of her life. We believe there are thousands, who never so much as ask themselves the question, "Is it certain that I must be married, or be miserable?" No, they assume that in one condition only can they be happy, and in that, therefore, let what may betide them, they must centre their every hope of coming peace.

Now I believe this impression to be erroneous; and so disastrous are its consequences, that it should be removed from the mind of every girl who entertains it. God has not left woman but one alternative in this respect. Marriage is the general lot of her sex. It is productive of joys and blessings peculiar to itself. But not always, not of necessity. There may be, and there doubtless often is, great suffering in this connection. No small share of this might be ultimately traced to the fact that so many form this tie under the belief that they must be married; that all which concerns them is to ascertain who the individual is, in whose hands they must place their whole earthly destiny.

But although Providence did intend woman, in all ordinary cases, to enter the marriage state, yet precisely as much did He design some of this sex to remain single. He made all for the sake of character, usefulness, and happiness. Every institution he appointed was to be instrumental to the production of these three grand objects. Hence woman was not made for marriage; but marriage for woman. If in any instance it shall appear that her improvement will probably be retarded by her entering that state, or her usefulness less extensive, or her happiness evidently sacrificed, then is it manifest that she belongs to the class of exceptions. It is her duty to continue unmarried. So that it is not simply a choice among many suitors, with the necessity of selecting or accepting some one of them, that is given her, but the whole subject is to be seriously pondered. If, after doing this, she is convinced that no individual has offered her particular attentions, whose character promises to enhance her virtue, usefulness, or happiness, then should she calmly resolve,—let the decision be painful, as it may, and perhaps must be,—that she will remain, under present prospects, through life, as she is.

But the reproach of being an "old maid," how can she endure this? I answer, let her not, in the first place, unduly magnify this reproach. I know that certain charges are preferred against "old maids," as this class are ignominiously termed, which do much to strengthen the impression just spoken of. They are said to possess an inordinate curiosity. Addison, like many others, alleges that old maids are given to credulity, and pours on them, for this reason, contempt and raillery. They are accused of disgusting affectation, of pretending to youth, to censorial importance, and to an exquisite sensibility. Finally, it is said, that they are notorious for envy, and ill-nature, being match-breakers, because themselves unmarried. Let these charges be destitute as they may of foundation, they doubtless impel many females to the determination that they must and will escape this terrific condition.

But there is no portion of the community, whose opinion we should value, that will esteem a female the less for being in that condition where Providence has clearly placed her. It is not true that single ladies are usually despised, or subject to ridicule. Those who do suffer these things, have usually brought them upon themselves by a deportment, which might have been shunned.

Some have been derided for their excessive Reservedness of manner, for never permitting one of the opposite sex to address them, even indirectly, or scarcely to exchange a word with them. What else can the prude anticipate, or reasonably require, than that she be an object of reproach, if not of ridicule, for obstinately adhering to a manner that must result in her perpetual singleness of life? If she debar all access to herself, except from her own sex, misinterpret every word and all intimations of, and thus insulate herself from, any special acquaintance with any gentleman, let her bear the consequences without a syllable of discontent. A morbid sensitiveness, in reference to all such company, must, in most cases, seal one's doom.

Perhaps a young maiden takes the opposite extreme. In her anxiety to fulfil what she deems her only possible destiny, she becomes Forward and assuming. She regards it as necessary to force attention toward herself. She is not of those who "to be won, must be wooed." Her aims are obtrusive; instead of waiting for the approach of another, she makes constant advances toward him. This fault is still more repulsive to most gentlemen than the other. They esteem it an indication of great vanity on the part of a young woman, and expressive of no very high sense of their own powers of discernment, or of their delicacy of feeling. Such persons must expect little favor at the hands of the other sex, should all their endeavors be frustrated. "She might have been married," is their uniform language, "had she not exhibited such boldness, and such determination to carry one's heart by storm."

Nor will her own sex be sparing in their reproaches of one left in a single state, after so many, and such ineffectual, efforts to change it. The modest lady pities, and blushes for, a sister thus regardless of proprieties. Her companions, successful by their very neglect to toil for success, will doubtless apply to her, and with some pungency, the epithet of "old maid." Ought she to repine at the fruit of her own indiscretion and folly?

Far different is the estimate usually formed of her who, by unforeseen and inevitable circumstances, or by a wise preference, continues single. Such cannot fail of being generally respected in society. That they are thus situated is perceived to be no fault of theirs, but, at most, a misfortune. In a multitude of these instances a young woman shall be the more respected for remaining unmarried. It argues a moral independence, a regard not only for her immediate happiness, but for her personal character, which cannot fail to excite, in all candid and generous minds, a true admiration.

There are several traits characteristic, in some degree, of what is termed an "old maid," that are in reality to be ranked among the higher Virtues.

Such persons are usually marked by their Humanity. Not being exclusively devoted to one individual, or one small circle of individuals, they find objects of interest everywhere around them. She who retains her cheerfulness in this state, is often an invaluable friend among the sick, and the suffering poor. She has leisure to follow out her kind impulses. They are not contracted to a single sphere, but wherever she can go and do good, thither her steps hasten. Even the inferior creation share her attentions. There is many an eye, not radiant with reason, nor accompanied by the powers of speech, that is yet eloquent in praise of her kindness.

Single women are usually adorned with Modesty. Some may court publicity, and pant for the forum, or the pulpit, but they are the few. Most ladies of this class are graced by a retiring manner, and quiet habits, and a gentle address. These traits we all prize in woman. Even in their excess, though they have virtually caused an individual to be single, they still have attendant advantages. They are certainly an ornament to the character, giving new lustre to what we, perhaps with difficulty, discovered beneath them.

Economy is another characteristic of a single woman. It may degenerate to a fault, it is true; but in most of those in this condition it is so restricted, as to be a theme not for censure, but approbation. In a country like ours, where, if fortunes are often made, they are also not seldom lost, in a day, this virtue is of prime concern. And everywhere it is an incumbent duty of the Christian to "gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost." She who does this may be a most valuable auxiliary in the family she resides with.

Suppose one partly dependent, for her subsistence, on her manual exertions, or an inmate in the house of a relative or friend, she may do great good by an habitual watchfulness that nothing be wasted. Servants are proverbially lavish and careless in this matter. The head of the family may be deficient in economy, or what is by no means uncommon, so engrossed with other inevitable cares, as to have little time to look after the savings, which might daily be made. But here is an individual, whose habits prompt her to the service, and who has leisure to make herself useful in this manner.

Unmarried ladies are usually distinguished for their Neatness. We often hear it said of another, "She is so afraid of a speck of dirt, that she will certainly be an old maid." If this be the chief index of that character, it is one which the married lady would do well to imitate, rather than deride. The personal habits can be excusably neglected by no one. If those, charged with the care of families, are so absorbed in their employments, as to pay little attention to neatness in dress, their condition is deplorable. She who has less to interfere with this all-important quality, and who, therefore, gives much time to cleanliness, order, and neatness, is to be envied, not censured. Should she hereafter be placed in the situation of a wife and matron, her partner will rejoice in those circumstances, which contributed to this most valuable trait in her character.

Single women are sometimes more Useful than they would have been, if married. Such cases are probably rare; yet the capacity of doing as much good in that state as another, should reconcile one to what might, otherwise, appear an evil. Who can estimate the amount of virtue and piety, that might be traced to the writings of Hannah More? Had she been married, the world might have lost the whole of these sixty years' toil in the cause of humanity. How large is our debt to the accomplished authoress of "Home," and of those manifold publications of the same character, that enlighten, and bless, the youth of our age.

Nor is it in literary walks alone that this class have proved signal benefactors of their species. In the domestic sphere, amid scenes of sickness and affliction, how often have they proved ministering angels. Miss Porter, I think it is, has a character in one of her works, which she names "Aunt Rebecca," who was full of kind offices among the families in her neighborhood, taking care of the sick, supplying the place of absent mothers, and aiding relatives and friends with promptness, in their times of trouble and grief. The reader is sometimes tempted to smile at the abuses of her good nature by the selfish and indolent; yet the character suggests to us the noble field of usefulness allotted to many, who are often supposed to lead a course of life contrary to nature.

Having so many virtues incident to her condition, and enjoying such opportunities to do an amount of good, and of course to secure a degree of happiness, denied to those in married life, why should an individual repine at this lot? Single women, it is well known, are sometimes envious, querulous, discontented, and restless. "Who can shew us any good in our state?" ask some. "Providence made us, like the rest of our sex, for love, yet we are doomed to be indifferent. It is our fate not to be loved."

In the agony of despair such array themselves, perhaps to old age, in attractive dresses and a profusion of jewelry, and affect the air of young ladies. But these views and practices are founded in error. Reflect upon the case, and you will see, that it is no more a law of God that your sex in general should love and be loved, and should marry, than it is that some of their number should remain single. She, who thus considers, is prepared to inquire whether she herself may not possibly belong to that class, and to be content in that condition, should circumstances seem to ordain her for it.

The advice of an English lady on this point seems peculiarly pertinent. "Let women," says she, "of a certain age beware of the affectation of youth, if they would avoid the shipwreck of their respectability and character. As the loveliness of girlhood fades from their cheeks, and the liquid brilliancy of youth departs from their eyes, let them make unto themselves charms which neither the rust nor moth of time can corrupt; let the warmth of goodness yield its gentle tinting to their cheek, and let tears of tenderness, of mercy, of loving-kindness, make their eyes moist with those beauties which will not be destroyed, but perfected hereafter. We must all fade, but it is in our power to exchange our charms. Keeping far from us envyings, strife, jealousy, evil-speaking, let us, as our days increase, improve in wisdom and good deeds; caring for the young, comforting the old, and rendering our home the throne of domestic happiness."

There are two things requisite, I believe, however, to the enjoyment of its best effects, in a single state. The lady, who proposes to herself this destination, should cultivate her Mind. A good education prepares one for any fortune, or condition of life. She, who has stores of knowledge and a well-balanced intellect, will find herself possessed of unfailing resources, both of improvement and happiness. It is the ignorant, those whose thoughts feed on vacuity, and who, through the want of mental culture, dwell incessantly on degrading subjects, that suffer in the single state.

The other preparation I referred to, is Occupation, habits of industry. An intelligent person may be indolent, and if so, the mental cultivation she has enjoyed may only serve to expose her feelings to more acute pain, from her solitary state. But she who is diligent in domestic economy, in the use of her needle, in the daily reading of valuable works, and especially in doing good, as she has opportunity, to others, can hardly be miserable, because unmarried. She will make friends, wherever she may reside, and find hearts rejoicing to reciprocate her affection.



Chapter VIII.

REASONS FOR MARRIAGE.

The Fear of being Single. Faith, and Moral Courage needed. Marrying to gratify friends. "Match makers." Self-will. To leave an Unpleasant Home. To obtain a Home. Practices in Mexico and France. Marrying for Wealth. Offer in Texas. Personal Beauty. A noble example. Fancy. Influence of Novels, and impure Poetry. Flattery. Passion. Personal Bravery. Custom, in island of Borneo. Proximity. Family Connections. Persian marriages. Marrying from the cradle. Personal Distinction. Nobility of Naples. Tragedy in Philadelphia. Love of Conquest and Power. Madam Gamarra of Peru. To escape Toil and Care. Marrying to Reform. Being importuned. From a Sense of Duty. As a Business transaction.

To attempt the enumeration of all the inducements which may lead a young woman to marry, were perhaps a hopeless task. So complex are our motives that it is difficult to analyze them correctly, or even to say with confidence what was the sole motive operating on the mind in any particular action. This difficulty is increased, where the affections are concerned. They are too subtle and ethereal in their nature, to be subjected to minute examination. I shall, therefore, only promise in this chapter to endeavor, as I am able, to treat of a part of the reasons for marriage, as they affect most persons in actual life.

At the head of these stands the fear of being Single. There is supposed to be some latent and terrific evil in remaining unmarried. The imagination of the girl depicts its loneliness, its desolation, the blight it must shed on every gentle and happy emotion, the reproach it must bring on her from her entire circle of acquaintances, and the pride with which her more successful companions will look down upon her. These and other features in the picture become so fearful to contemplate, that she resolves to embrace the first opportunity to escape so awful a dilemma. She will engage herself as soon as practicable, lest she should outstand her day, and be left in the dread condition of an "old maid." Hence a train of miseries.

To prevent this calamity,—for it often proves a serious one,—I would recommend the culture of two virtues, Faith, and Moral Courage.

There is no cause for a young woman, in any ordinary circumstances, to fear that she shall be left single. How very few are they, who deserve the attentions of the other sex, and yet never receive any overtures for marriage. Where the means of support are so equally distributed, and where girls are so well trained, as they are usually in this country, nearly every young man is married, and of course finds somewhere a companion. Have then Faith that you will not be neglected. This will do much to inspire that modest conduct, which attracts so powerfully the opposite sex. It will also lead you to a course of steady preparation, in all respects, for marriage, and thus both insure your entrance on that state, and qualify you for its duties.

Cultivate Moral Courage. It is better to wait this year and next, and many years, rather than, for the sake of appeasing the popular cry, to throw yourself away on a dolt, or a villain. What consolation can it be, when bound to such a companion for life, to reflect, that you have escaped the odious name of an "old maid?" Better ten lives of singleness, than a few years of that wretchedness so often occasioned by marrying simply and solely for fear of being single.

Others marry to gratify their Friends. This world abounds in match-makers. They are, too, of all descriptions; some true friends to the parties concerned in their management, perhaps their parents; others entirely indifferent in this respect; others mere busy bodies, burning for the excitement of love affairs, for new offers, engagements, and weddings.

As regards the agency of friends in these matters, I believe little good ever comes of their plans and efforts. Where they succeed, there are fearful chances that the individuals, intended to be benefitted, will have cause to rue the consequences. It is far better to let nature direct, or rather to leave Providence his own modes of operation, instead of attempting to force, or urge, what should be left entirely to the feelings, judgment, and taste, of the parties involved.

For those meddlesome creatures, who spend their days in instigating others to love, I can only say, they will have a dark account to render in the end. There is no more despicable character than a finished "manoeuverer." It implies a meanness, that can pry into the corners of others' affairs, an indolence, that neglects one's own proper business, and a mental vacuity, and a littleness of purpose, which are the dread of every noble mind. Beware of the impertinence of such persons. Be very sure that you give not your hand and heart where they point, instead of following, as you ought, your own good sense, and the promptings of affection.

There are those of an opposite description, who marry to gratify Self-will, and to shew their independence of advisers. This is the more dangerous error of the two. The law of the Laplanders on this subject is not without some reason, severe though it certainly is; it is there death to marry a girl without the consent of her friends. The instances in which this occurs are rare; yet there are those who, through pride and perversity, choose to be miserable in their own way rather than happy in one proposed, or sanctioned even, by others. Young women are sometimes disinterested in the indulgence of a passion, for they do it to their own injury, and to the sorrow of their relatives. Because advised to marry a particular gentleman, they set themselves in array against him. Or, blind to those faults, which every one else discovers, and warns them against, they commit their destiny to the actually abandoned. I knew one of this class, who, in spite of all remonstrance, married an intemperate man, and who went even so far as to say, after his death, which resulted from this vice, "that she never saw her husband intoxicated in his life."

Some marry to remove from an Unpleasant Home. They are obliged, perhaps, to work hard for a small compensation, or for none. The mother is unkind to them, or the father is morose. The daughter receives frequent hints about her support, or, of her marriage being necessary to make her "respectable" among her companions; or, the parents talk of their own early engagement, &c. This conversation awakens a strong desire to escape dependence upon them. Other circumstances serve to alienate a female from the place of her birth, her town, or village, and she is induced to sacrifice herself to any one who proffers his hand.

But is it not

"Better to bear the ills we have, Than flee to those we know not of?"

By an ill-assorted match, a lady is placed in a situation, where, let her have suffered as she might previously, her condition is nearly certain to be made worse by the change. Under the parental roof, she enjoyed much liberty; but now she is chained to one spot, and must receive to her bosom, a being, who inflicts pangs on her spirit. The die is cast; she is enslaved by a perpetual master. Piteous is her doom.

Many are married to obtain a Home. They desire an establishment; the prospect of having no dwelling, which they can call "their own," fills them with restless apprehensions. They crave some special protector, in whom they may merge, as it were, their own being, and be thereby released from personal responsibilities; one on whom they may lean for the gratification of every wish and want. Like the emigrant who leaves the tough soil of New England, for the glorious West, they imagine that their exchange is to release them from toil, and crown them, at the same moment, with plenty.

Such expectations are delusive. Woman was not created for this absolute and unlimited ease. Neither single, nor married, can she subsist with comfort to herself, except by being largely endowed with self-dependence. As a wife, she will not be caressed and cherished in one cloudless day, even though her husband prove the kindest of his sex. She must do and suffer much for his sake, or the bonds of their love will soon be as flax amid flames. If she enter the marriage state with any other design than to devote herself to her family, to toil more, instead of less, than she now does, either by mental or manual exertions, or by both, let her be assured of a fearful disappointment. She may promise herself, in a pure connection, great joy, much to compensate her sacrifices, but a life of ease and entire freedom from care, let her never anticipate.

There are ladies compelled, I am aware, to seek a home by matrimony, through the influence of their parents. This may be exerted, as in Mexico, indirectly, through solicitors and by management, or, like the French, the parents may negotiate the marriage in person, if not in form, yet by such methods, as to leave the daughter no alternative, but to accept such shelter abroad as any suitor may propose to her.

Rise, I entreat you, above this servitude. There is a method, by which you may provide an habitation for yourself. Prepare so completely to earn your own livelihood, that no one, friend or foe, dare say of you, "she is obliged by her helplessness to marry some one." There are honorable avocations, and not a few either, in which every young woman can support herself. Let all be acquainted with some of them, with one at least. Then may they listen to overtures of marriage, with the feeling, that, as for a home, that, they have already secured by the skill of their own mind and hands.

Young ladies sometimes marry for Wealth. They have been educated to regard this as the criterion of excellence. A man's "worth" is reckoned, not in moral attainments, but in dollars and cents. He, therefore, who is poor, is set down as beneath much consideration. From her earliest days, the girl has, perhaps, heard her parents talk of "being well-settled," of "a good establishment," and "a handsome property," as the sine qua non of married life. In Tartary, a young man must purchase his bride, and if too poor to give money, he must serve her father four or five years. If a richer rival presents himself before the term of service expires, the first suitor is dismissed; he can claim only wages for his work. How many parents in this civilized and Christian land, thus sell their daughters. Give the transaction whatever smooth name you please, it is, after all, a bargain and sale.

Legislators, it appears, sometimes openly and directly encourage this traffic. The Congress of Texas recently offered a premium of nearly three thousand acres of land to every woman who would marry a citizen of Texas, who was one at the declaration of Independence.

Let me warn my female friends against this influence. Marry for riches alone, and you will be a neglected, unhappy wife, as sure as gold is not kindness. How many of your sex have sold their honor for paltry lucre. Our cities contain awful testimonies to this fact. Beware of that path, which leads in this fearful direction. Marry only a good man. Heed the advice of Themistocles to that Athenian, who consulted him in relation to the marriage of his daughter. She had two suitors, one a man of worth with a small fortune, the other rich, but in low repute. "I would bestow my daughter," said he, "upon a man without money, rather than upon money without a man."

Never fear to form this connection with an individual of merit, though his circumstances be humble. Poverty indeed is often the nurse of rare virtues. It imparts energy, prudence, and industry, when rightly regarded. I like the reply of the Irish maid, when reminded of the extreme poverty of herself and her lover. "Sure, two people eat no more when they're together, than they do when they're separate." And if this were not true, there are advantages in equality of condition which often render such alliances among the most happy ever found on earth. God will bless those who act from principle and affection, as in all other relations, so in the formation of the marriage tie.

Woman sometimes gives herself to Beauty of Person. She is led captive by a fair face and an elegant exterior. These cases are less frequent than those, in which men marry for beauty. Still, they do occur, and although outward graces are not to be contemned more than other gifts of Providence, yet she who bestows her hand for their sake alone is a victim to folly. Should such be free from impure passion, they still build their hopes on a foundation of straw. In the conflict of life, we need, in our nearest friend, inward charms. Where these are wanting, our lot is pitiable indeed.

There are vain men, so weak, as to pride themselves on external attractions alone. But they are hollow-hearted. Woe to her, who commits her happiness to one of these shells of humanity. She is trusting to a treacherous hope. Her love, far from being pure, is that which

"dies With beauty, which is varying every hour; While, in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower That breathes on earth the air of paradise."

Not a few marry from Fancy alone. They are attracted toward a gentleman by his manners and external appearance. They conceive a liking for another, because he has a pleasant voice, or an engaging smile, or is full of gaiety and wit. The influence of these qualities is felt by us all; nor is it wrong to give them some weight, in forming our estimate of one as a companion. But what are they all, if disconnected from a praiseworthy character? She who gives her heart, for this poor price, will sometime awake to a sense of her delusion. The imagination has an influence, perhaps an unavoidable one, on the affections. We invest a favorite with ideal charms, and put out of sight his faults. But in contemplating the solemn relation of marriage, no lady should abandon the exercise of her reason. Love, it is said, often so excites the fancy as to call forth effusions of poetry, where they were hitherto unknown. But woe to her, who cheats herself with the belief that the creature of her imagination is a real being, who will not listen to the counsels of understanding, but rushes blindly down the precipice, which, with one open eye, she might easily have foreseen.

A recent writer, in giving advice to young ladies, speaks of "novels and tales," and especially of the "best fictions of our day, as holding up to view the mistakes and faults, which young persons are most likely to commit on the subject of love and matrimony, in such a way as is likely to prevent their repetition." With deference to one so intelligent in her remarks on other topics, I must differ from her on this. I believe that the reading of novels almost uniformly operates unfavorably on the female heart. In the first place, fictitious writings are very seldom read, except for the sake of the story. Let the author append a moral to his book, who thinks of stopping to read that? But again, where is the novel, which is an exact transcript of real life? There may be no one character in a work, that is not somewhat natural. Yet are the relations of each to all the others such as those in which we daily see people placed? Are not the remarks of the speakers often forced and strained? Do such loves occur in this working-day world? Are not the incidents, and the plot in general, indebted largely to the writer's imagination, for the effect they produce on the reader?

It is the reading of fiction and impure poetry, more than all things else, I fear, which leads so many females to sacrifice themselves to unprincipled and base-hearted men. Instead of consulting these works, as a guide in marriage, let every one take counsel of her sober judgment. When "the dreams of youth are fled," and the novel ceases to captivate, we shall be left in a pitiable condition, if united to a being whom we could give no good reason for marrying. Fancy alone, much more a mere whim, is a fearful agent, with whom to entrust our entire happiness for life.

There are those who accept the hand of another, because enticed by Flattery. The human heart is never more exposed to the poison of this insidious foe than in the affairs of love. A lady is beautiful, and she is praised to excess for her personal attractions. Her vanity is soothed, and her mind is so darkened, that she sees no bad motive whatever, and no blemish in the flatterer. "A woman," says one well versed in our nature, "can always find a palliation for the misdeeds which are set in motion by her own beauty." How often do we see the faults of the flatterer, in this way, actually converted into graces. Or a lady is but moderately well-favored, and is commended on that point where she felt a distrust of herself. The assurance of her charms rushes like a tide over her spirit, and she surrenders herself a victim to blandishments. Or she may be even personally plain. The praise of some one good feature, will then suffice, perhaps, to subdue her affections.

Is one more cultivated than her sex in general? He, who offers incense to her intellect, may intoxicate and win. How often does this kind of adulation succeed, where the commendation of personal attractions would have failed. But let her, who is subjected to gross and excessive flattery, ask her own heart, "Do I respect this individual? Has he my sober esteem? Can I look on his character, and say it is such as to give promise of happiness to his bosom companion?" These few questions would often dissolve the spell. If you marry one, such as I describe above, he may continue through the bridal month this delicious repast, but amid growing cares, when busy and anxious, you shall soon find that the syren voice is hushed. It will be you, who must then speak sweet words. To you, will he turn for those kind attentions, which the habit of being caressed and complimented, and never forgetting yourself, will have miserably prepared you to bestow.

It requires much watchfulness to shun the contagion of an earthly Passion, in forming the marriage tie. We should be perfectly certain that our impulses are all pure, that it is the moral and intellectual we prize in our friend. The spirit alone can profit us. An intemperate woman always shocks us beyond measure. She, who lives for the pleasures of the table, falls from the rank of her sex. All who would preserve their integrity, must guard against every gross and low tendency, and cultivate in their inmost soul a regard for character alone, and a desire of spiritual acquisitions, in their partner for life.

Some are charmed by personal Bravery. It is often remarked, that the female sex admire military characters. Being constitutionally timid, the courage they associate with the soldier, is to them always an attractive quality. They lean upon it fondly, for protection in their own physical weakness. In the Island of Borneo, no man is allowed to solicit a damsel in marriage until he has cut off the head of an enemy. To how many, in Christian lands, is personal prowess a primary recommendation, in a candidate for marriage.

Yet are not tenderness, fidelity, and constancy, quite as important in a husband, as physical courage? She who gives herself for a plume or an epaulet, or for the bravery they are thought to indicate, will learn, in after days, that although the oak be admirable for its stoutness, there are gentler trees one would desire in the garden of domestic love.

Many matches are made solely through the accidental Proximity of the parties. A young lady visits a friend often, and the brother, by being daily seen, engages her affections. Perhaps a gentleman boards in the family of her father. The simple circumstance of her being more in his society, than in that of others of his age, is the foundation of their marriage. There seems almost a fatality in these cases, they so often occur.

Now I am far from recommending a female to put on an unnatural reserve toward those she sees thus frequently; but let her recollect, that the mere fact of her interchanging so many thoughts and feelings with another, predisposes both to a more intimate connection. It is better, if the connection would be an improper one, to prevent such a consummation, by decided conduct in the outset, than by encouragements to induce an offer, you may feel compelled to accept. Are you much thrown by accident into the company of a particular gentleman? Be sure that your deportment toward him be not such as to mislead him, in regard to your estimate of his character. Avoid every thing that shall seem to make it a matter of course that you will marry him. Study his traits, and look on him in all respects precisely as you would on any other associate. Let it not be said by others that you are fated to marry a certain person, because you are so much in his society.

A young woman is often induced to marry a man for the sake of his Family Connections. They are, perhaps, wealthy, and have a high standing in society, on that account. Or, they are respected for their name and rank, as descendants of worthy ancestors. The friends deem it "a good match;" the alliance is desirable on many accounts. Who can think of rejecting overtures from so eligible a quarter? All this is said and done with much the same feelings as the crowned heads of the Old World negociate intermarriages with one another, in cold blood, and as a business transaction. If the parties are of about equal standing, as regards their relatives, it is called on each side, "marrying into a good family," and what more can be desired?

Or, the lady may be raised in the world by connecting herself with a family superior, in fortune, or rank, to her own. To this surely, it will be said, no one can object. Were it not folly to lose so fine an opportunity of entering a renowned circle of relations? In Persia, the father first of all, selects a family, with whom he wishes to have his son connected. After this, he makes inquiries about the girl's personal endowments. Is not something very like this often done in Christian lands? The leading question, in these cases, is, "What are the connections?" not, as it should be, the reverse of the practice in Persia, "Who and what is the individual particularly concerned?" The character, the principles, the disposition and heart of him, to whom a lady consigns her whole destiny, are thus actually put out of view, for the sake of his family! One may see, daily, alliances between individuals who come together evidently on account of their kindred alone; and who, for any congruity of disposition, or fitness of traits, might as well, like the English nobility, have been betrothed in their cradles.

Many females marry for Personal Distinction. A gentleman is eminent in the political world, or as an author and scholar, or in military fame, or for skill and success in his calling; or he shines in fashionable society. The origin of this practice may sometimes be found in early education. The parents are ambitious of elevating their daughter by marriage. They awaken in her hopes and expectations above her condition in life. They teach her, by their conversation and deportment, if not directly, that her "being's end and aim" is to rise in the world.

The cases are frequent, in which a girl is encouraged to receive the addresses of one, who is deficient in almost every quality requisite in a good husband, merely because he is "a great man." A writer observes that "love is our first toy, our second, display." But here this is completely reversed. Display is the first toy; as for love, that is an inferior consideration. You shall see a young woman led to barter herself to a man who is ignorant, proud, selfish, and unkind. "Let the person," says one, "be blind, lame, deformed, diseased, severe, morose, vicious, old, or good for nothing, if the parents can but a little advance their daughter above the quality or condition themselves have lived in, the poor child must be made a living sacrifice, and probably know no more happy days after the solemnization of her nuptials." We are told that in Naples, it is not uncommon for a nobleman of decayed fortune, to send his daughters to a nunnery, because his means will not enable him to educate them for marriage in the highest circles of society. The recent tragedy enacted in the city of Philadelphia, was a mournful illustration of the dangers of parental ambition. A father had toiled for years, to amass wealth for the purpose of introducing his daughter to society in England, and elevating her to a high station in that land. She married contrary to his wishes, and in his fiend-like disappointment, wrought up to insanity, he actually murdered the victim of his rage, his own child. Why will parents thus attempt to coerce the chainless affections? Why should so many females consent to marry the objects of their aversion, nay, sometimes, of their disgust, for the sake of a name?

Woman has been known to marry from the love of Conquest, and the desire to rule. The female heart is susceptible of the love of power, and one may seek, or consent to join herself to, a husband, for the sake of having a subject, over whom continually to reign. We are told that Madam Gamarra, the wife of the President of Peru, is a "female Bonaparte, and though her husband is nominally the head of the republic, she is the real sovereign." How many smaller empires exhibit the same unnatural picture. It is in vain to say that the wife is the more capable of the two. This by no means exonerates her from blame, who deliberately entered the marriage state with so little respect for her companion, as to cherish a determined purpose of lording it over him, as her inferior.

Ambition of power is always a dangerous principle of conduct. She who consents to marry another, without love, esteem, or respect for him, and merely to queen it over his life, can hardly possess the Christian temper. She is assuredly destitute of that chief grace of her sex, deep and sincere affection. Mrs. Phelps says, on this subject, that "Submission and obedience belong to everything in the Universe, except the Great Master of the whole. It is a law, that support and protection demand obedience. Hence, the child is bound to yield this tribute to its parent, and the people to the laws, and the wife to the husband." This doctrine, although advanced by a female, is likely to meet with some remonstrance at this day. Yet surely, none will contend that the reverse of it, is a true one, that, contrary to the affirmation of Scripture, "the woman is the head of the man." Let the maiden turn from such thoughts in her earliest days.

"Now let a true ambition rise, And ardor fire her breast, To reign in worlds above the skies, In Heavenly glories drest."

Some ladies exchange their single condition, in the hope of escaping thereby the Toils and Cares of life. They picture to themselves the felicity of having one constantly devoted to the supply of their wants, and waiting to gratify their every wish. This looks all exceedingly captivating, in prospect. They expect from their friend not only the same attentions as he rendered during their engagement, but an increased service, from his being ever near them and having nothing but their happiness to occupy him.

But can a lady anticipate these rivers of ease and pleasure, without securing the respect of her husband? No one, who reflects for a moment on the future, can do this. Does our friend expect the idolatry of her husband? She must recollect that "No respect,"—and, of course, no love,—"is lasting, but that which is produced by our being in some degree useful to those who pay it." No age ever erected altars to gods destitute of good qualities. She, who would be worshipped in the heart of her bosom companion, can secure this homage only by deserving it through exertion. Married life must be one of care and toil. Let no female delude herself by imagining it to be otherwise. It brings, where hearts are wedded, as well as hands, joys and supports far more than sufficient to lighten its burdens. But burdens let none think to shun in it.

Instances are not wanting, in which woman has given herself to a vicious companion, in the belief that she could reform him. The stage has often produced dramas, in which the hero, after a long course of conduct utterly inconsistent with matrimonial happiness, has at length been suddenly converted to the ways of virtue. Hence the false and pernicious maxim, that "a reformed rake makes the best husband." But in real life, it will be found that instantaneous changes, occurring on the eve of marriage, are usually adopted for the sake of appearances, and endure only so long as policy requires.

Dr. Dwight observes well on this point, that "nothing but folly can lead us to expect that this institution can change the whole nature of those who enter into it; and like a magical spell, confer knowledge, virtue, and loveliness, upon beings who have neither." She who marries a man, that is addicted to immoral practices, incurs fearful hazards. Not only does she risk her personal happiness, from his vicious conduct, but she exposes her own character. Who can tell that, instead of being reformed by her, the husband may not entice her into his own sins, or into those equally ruinous? Will she calmly commit herself to the talons of the vulture, in the hope of taming his ferocity, and changing entirely his habits? The experiment is one which no woman of ordinary prudence will try.

The temptation I allude to is likely to be presented to many of this sex, especially in populous places, where the vices cluster. Had I a friend thus exposed, I would entreat her to beware of looking with the least partiality on a profligate, or an unprincipled man. "Let him be a very courtier, for his grace and agreeableness in conversation," I would say to her, "be not you ensnared by his tongue." By a strange paradox, the worst men sometimes fancy and select pious females for their wives. I do not deny that cases occur, in which the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the believing wife. But if gross sins be added to a want of religious faith, I contend that no woman is justified in forming this connection. Should she detect such traits and practices in her lover, on the eve of their marriage, she is bound to dismiss him. God will provide a lamb, if we come boldly to the altar, and keep not back our dearest affection.

Some females have consented to bestow their hand, without a gift of the heart, upon one who importuned them by ceaseless addresses. They did not love, nor could they, where consent to marriage was yielded with such reluctance. Perhaps some considerable aversion to the union was expressed, but it was at length abandoned, as they thought, from necessity. "I am fated," such an one will say, "to marry a person I cannot love, and so it must be." We have known many instances, in which it was paradoxically asserted, that the lady "married a certain gentleman to get rid of him."

The sentiment of compassion, has a large share in some of these cases. A suitor relates his troubles again and again; his happiness will he forever blighted; he shall even sicken and die, if rejected. Desdemona listens to the story:

"'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; She wished she had not heard it."

But alas, from pitying, the steps are few to "embracing." To relieve such sufferings, a lady resigns her every prospect of peace and comfort.

How many, indeed, after once rejecting a suitor, are moved by his renewed entreaties, to sacrifice themselves, merely to assuage his flowing tears. They think it a duty, it may be, to forego every hope of happiness, to fly in the face of certain evil and woe, rather than see one so pained by a refusal.

Benevolence deserves commendation in all cases. Yet not always is it the result of sound judgment, or the demand of duty to marry one, because importuned to that step. He, who waits at your feet and implores acceptance, might not be so miserable after all, as he and you imagine, should you decline his overtures. In the cares of a busy world, he may find a draught of the waters of Lethe. His affections,—if it be a pure and deep love that impels him, and not insanity or mental intoxication,—may be turned into other channels, and the remnant of his life prove, after all, an endurable evil. He may be directed to a companion, who will render his lot far more agreeable than it could be, had you, with the feelings under which you separated, been his wife.

Besides, the instances are very rare in which a female is required, for the gratification of an importunate lover, to do what she feels must be suicidal to her own peace. As a Christian, she is bound to love others as herself, if you please, even as much as herself; but not more. If she offer up all her self-love, and take a course intended exclusively for the gratification of another, does she not go then beyond the gospel command? There are cases in which this may be a duty, but let a young woman ponder long and seriously, before concluding that hers is of that number. It may call for great energy to withstand importunities. She may sometimes feel that her resolution must give way; but let her consider the future, a whole life of aversion from one ever at her side, and if this seem her inevitable doom, did she now marry, she will remain firm in her purpose to the last.

Nearly related to the class just described, are those who marry under the impression that it is their Duty to form this connection with some one. Public opinion demands it, as a matter of course; their parents have always conducted, as if this was their view of the subject, and the daughter conscientiously believes that she must conform to it. Now, if what I have hitherto said is correct, there is no such thing as an unconditional obligation to marry. It is a duty only when circumstances favor it. If there be decided objections against the character of the one, or the many, who may have made overtures of marriage to a young lady, it has never yet become her duty to marry. On the contrary, she is solemnly bound still to remain single, to wait until Providence indicates to her a prospect of so changing her situation, as to enhance her usefulness and happiness.

Marriage is regarded too often as a Business transaction. It is entered upon for prudential reasons alone; the heart is not interested, nor, of course, given at the altar. In our country, where all things take the form of traffic, there is especial danger that the most sacred bond which man can form, will bear a mercantile aspect, by being rudely exposed in the market place. Let prudence have her office in this matter, but let it always be subordinate to a higher principle. Affection should prompt and impel; discretion ought only to act as a guide, a light, and counsellor, never as an originator and master, in matrimonial concerns. There is a wide chasm between imprudence and rashness in this transaction, and a Stoical sale of the hand, while the heart is kept back.

Some marry from Gratitude. They have received pecuniary aid from another; or they have been assisted by him in sickness; or he was their friend in their afflictions or troubles. But can they not express their gratitude otherwise than by marriage? If the single act, or few acts, of past favor, deserving though they be in themselves, constitute his sole claim to their hand and heart, let them be slow in the gift.



Chapter IX.

CONDITIONS OF TRUE MARRIAGE.

But one divine cement. "Marrying to increase Love." Must be Free. Advice of Parents. A rare example. Good Disposition. Good Temper. Charity on Religious Opinions. Intelligence. Refined Taste. Good Health. Energy of Character. Similarity of Fortune; of Age. Early Marriages. View of them in Italy. Recommended by Dr. Franklin. Objections. Lady Blessington.

Before forming any connection in life, we should consider well its objects, and the means by which they promise to be accomplished, and then ask ourselves if these be placed within our particular reach. Now what is marriage? The union of two individual souls in one. This is its essence, that without which, it loses all claim to the sacred name it bears. But what will secure a union of souls between husband and wife?

There is but one divine cement, Love. No substitute can atone for its absence; no talisman can produce consequences that belong only to this holy principle.

Many joys are inherent in a true marriage. It has sympathies, the most intimate of which mortals are capable, and it calls forth affections, such as pertain to no other voluntary relation of life. But these sentiments are the fruits of love alone. Disgust and aversion cannot produce them, nor are they the growth of indifference. If there be not a peculiar interest in the society of another, and a pain in his absence, no foundation is yet laid for a genuine marriage between him and yourself.

Again, there are evils incident to this life, which lose much of their bitterness, when shared with another. There is a sorrow of spirit, which none but a near friend can soothe. Peculiar trials belong also to the marriage condition. How can these evils and trials be mitigated to the wife, or the husband? Only by the power of love. If you dislike your companion, you cannot minister cordially to his griefs, nor will he participate in yours. Marriage is an arch; if love be its keystone, it will stand firmly; it will grow stronger with time. That wanting, it will crumble in a day. Never should this relation be formed, except with such sentiments as give reasonable hope of an ever-growing love.

Our natural emotions, on witnessing a marriage without apparent affection, are painful. If a lady be compelled so to marry, we pity her doom; if she do it voluntarily, we cannot but feel a disgust at the connection. Yet how often, could we unveil human hearts, should we see at the altar, nothing deeper than stratagem, expediency, fancy, or at best, friendship, as the chief attractive cause. Is it right to complain ourselves, or should we wonder, at the spectacle of miserable matches in others, if the temple of marriage rest thus on wood, hay and stubble, instead of having gold, silver, and precious stones at its base?

"Marrying to increase love," says a writer, "is like gaming to get rich. You are liable, in the hazard, to lose all you carry to the game." They, who join hands, with cold hearts, often cease even to respect one another. They become, in truth, like the pith-ball, in its approach to the electrified cylinder, the more fiercely repelled, the nearer the contact. If you do not love the individual you wed, above all his sex; if nothing more than fancy and friendship draw you toward him, then your marriage will be indeed a "lottery," and yours may be a blank. Let there be genuine love, and if alienation afterward occur, it may be overcome by time and circumstances. Enter this condition in coldness, and strange will be the exception, if that chill ever be exchanged for a glow.

A true marriage must be Free, contracted by the preference and choice of the parties. If it be done by constraint, or against the will of either, it comes short of an union, and is a mere bargain and sale. An offer may be accepted, simply to gratify a parent or a friend, when the taste of the lady would have prompted a rejection. The case of Madeline Bray, in Nickleby, is precisely of this character. She pledged herself a victim to one whom she did not love, and could not but secretly despise, and had the marriage been actually consummated, it would have hardly been a more incongruous, forced, and unnatural connection, than many which occur in real life. To marry only to please a third person, even though it be a father, or mother, is never a duty, and can be the result only of a misled judgment, or a mistaken kind of filial piety.

Yet I by no means recommend the disregard of parental advice, in this sacred transaction. Perhaps the dangers of this age lie chiefly in that direction. There is often a false independence in this matter, an idea that a certain individual must be a lady's companion for life. She may believe that "the match was made in Heaven," and that it is a sin, in parents and friends, to oppose it. Or, she may determine that, let what will be the consequences, she will accept the overtures of the gentleman before her. The tendencies of the times induce many parents to keep silent, and take no part, and give no advice, when their daughters receive proposals for marriage. It is thought that, let them advise as they may, their children are resolved to do just as they please, and, to preserve peace, they forbear to interfere in the least.

This state of things cannot be too deeply deplored. When a young woman has an offer of addresses, it presents a solemn occasion, one which demands of her great deliberation, thoughtfulness and discretion. The instances are rare, in which an immediate decision can with propriety be effected. Counsel and assistance are never more needed, than in this important exigency. And to whom should one go, in preference to those who best understand her character, and what traits are needed in another to render her happy, and useful to him; and who feel also the deepest interest in her welfare? The daughter should seek advice from this quarter, and the parent ought promptly to give it.

In the other extreme, where parental partiality would coerce the feelings of a child, and impel her to a step she would fain avoid, then let the daughter mildly, but firmly, maintain her own purpose. I saw recently an account of a couple who were married nearly three years since, but owing to the opposition of friends, they lived separately, and kept their secret, until circumstances permitted a disclosure. Here must have been genuine affection, a true union of souls. "Stolen waters are sweet," and none seem more so, than the draughts of a clandestine marriage. Much as I deprecate the result of such elopements, I would rather a young lady should be even guilty of this imprudence, if she sincerely love her companion, than that she marry one she does not love, nor can hope ever to love, for the sake of gratifying any individual in the world. Let advice be sought, and let it be weighed and well heeded; but let it operate only on a free mind, and induce only to a more serious, and dispassionate consideration, for yourself, of the reply you shall give.

A good Disposition, if essential in the wife, is no less so in the husband. No young lady would marry one she believed destitute of this quality. Every instance, in which it is ultimately found to be wanting, is the result of a deception, either culpably disregarded by the lady, or so artfully conducted, during the days of "courtship," as to be then wholly unperceived. But of what value are all other recommendations, talent, beauty, wealth, family, without an amiable spirit, and kind feelings? She, who allows herself to hazard any thing on this point, is little less than insane. If her partner prove morose, sullen, selfish, it will blight forever the joys of their marriage day. Better had she been bound to the dead, as certain offenders of her sex were said to be of old, than bound to a living mass of pollution, to one whose principles become more and more her horror, as they are daily betrayed.

Next to the disposition, I regard a good Temper as essential to domestic happiness. If nature have bestowed sparingly of this gift, and there be evidence of inward passion, unless there be also unceasing efforts at self-control, commit not your destiny to the individual. When the restraints of unfamiliar acquaintance are at length thrown off, what can you anticipate, but captiousness, and peevishness, if not actual violence? "Where surfaces," says one, "are contiguous, every little prominence is mutually felt." How fearful that minds subject to unrestrained anger, should be brought in so near collision, as may be produced by marriage.

You will desire proofs of sensibility. This is often accompanied by excitable passions; but not uniformly, not of necessity. No one could be prone naturally to greater strength of passion than Washington seems to have been, yet how admirably did he control his anger. The beau ideal of a desirable companion combines quick feelings, with a serene, self-possessed temper. Spare no efforts in ascertaining how near the individual who addresses you approaches this ideal. An utter failure, should present, in your view, an insuperable obstacle to a connection with him for life.

Another condition of happy marriage, is an union of spirit on the great subject of Religion. It is desirable that the husband and wife belong to the same Christian denomination; and that the family they constitute worship in one church. Still, the circumstance of their adherence to different sects should not alone prevent their connection. They should hope to unite in their views on the main doctrines of religion; but even this is not indispensable to a true marriage. One thing, however, is so; and that is, that they each possess the spirit of Charity.

There must be sympathy, as respects the value and necessity of personal piety. It is not their belief alone, which can produce this; nor will a diversity of opinion prevent it, where the spirit of Christ exists mutually between them. We are told that, where husband and wife enter into a cordial union, there often becomes a growing personal resemblance of one to the other. Like views, tastes, feelings and interests, generate a similar expression of countenance. This blessed token of genuine affection, will often be manifested, where there is found a spiritual sympathy. Let this holy temper be deemed essential, and you shall

"Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend Towards a higher object.—Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end."

I have in mind, an instance, where there seems great unity of spirit between two, whose religious opinions are supposed to be diametrically opposite. Who can tell but, by her singular charity, the wife is there sanctifying her husband, when had she exhibited toward him a bigoted and repulsive disposition, she might have driven him even to blank infidelity?

Let there be a full and frank expression of opinion on points of faith and conscience, before marriage, as well as after. Occasion is sometimes given for the complaint that the true feelings and intentions on this subject were concealed, during the engagement of the parties; or, that more charity was expressed then, than afterward. This, of all prospects, is most assuredly fatal to the hope of a happy marriage. Whatever difference may exist, as to preferences of doctrine, or places of worship, let them be explicitly communicated, before marriage. Then will it never be said, "This I did not expect. It was not so, during our engagement."

The young woman may justly require that her future companion be a man of Intelligence. "Mental attractions alone can gain a lasting empire. Where these are wanting, as the object loses its novelty, and becomes common, its beauties fade away, and the imagination, and the eyes which complacently and admiringly, rested upon them, begin to wander.—Love, if it ever existed, rapidly abates; one or both regret precipitation;—glaring defects stand out in bold relief, in place of the perfections which the imagination had painted." She, who does not regard another as at least her equal in talent and education, can hardly entertain for him that respect, which is the basis of all true love. Not only should there be a moral and religious, but also an intellectual, sympathy between husband and wife. Else, how can they enjoy the society and conversation of each other, in those numberless hours, when they are sole companions? What a burden to a lady of cultivated mind, must be the society of one, who takes no pleasure in a book, and can appreciate only the gossip of the day, or outward gratifications.

The mortification too, of being linked to stupidity, or ignorance, for life, of feeling always anxious, when in company, lest your companion utter the follies he does at your fireside, must be insupportable. If you have a husband, whom you cannot trust as a man of common sense at least, woe is your lot.

Nor is it unreasonable to require in your partner, refined Taste, and delicate feelings. There may be valuable traits, and still this be wanting. A friend of mine married an individual, whom she respected for his talents, and Christian character. But he was still destitute of acute perceptions and deep sensibility. There was a coarseness in his nature, which made him blind to her feelings, and a vulgarity of habit and speech, which to her was completely disgusting. He did not intend any harm, but was still always offending her taste; and this simple circumstance embittered her whole happiness, and hastened her, I believe, out of this world. Opinions may differ; the grave may marry the gay, and the silent, the loquacious; the irritable may seek the calm; the bold, the modest; and the impassioned, the gentle. This occurs, indeed, according to the analogy of the physical world, where attraction takes place between different bodies, as between the opposite poles of magnets, &c. But it is not so in matters of taste, certainly not, so far as refinement and coarseness are concerned.

Good Health is a point of no ordinary moment. It is needful for the discharge of our duties; and she can hardly be justified, who allies herself to one evidently incapable, for his physical debility, of sustaining a family. A person afflicted by an incurable disease, especially if hereditary, cannot reasonably expect a young lady to sacrifice herself upon him. There are other offices, beside that of the nurse, demanded of a wife, and the cases should be rare, in which all other considerations are merged in this.

But there may be health, and still a deficiency in Energy of Character. With this trait as the foundation, you may anticipate a fair superstructure; but if this be wanting, you ought not, and cannot, look for anything but poverty, and wretchedness, throughout your connection. A worldly-minded man, will be far from an interesting companion; yet, in the issue, it is better to trust yourself with the slave of business, than with a palpable drone.

Similarity of Fortune is to be desired in those who contemplate marriage. There need not be, it is true, entire equality in this respect; yet a great disparity of circumstances is often the source of melancholy evils. The individuals thus joined, will probably differ in their habits, and in their views of economy, of dress, and style of living. One shall appear mean, and the other extravagant. She, who is raised suddenly from poverty to affluence, must possess rare humility, to escape undue elation and pride. While to one accustomed to opulence, there will seem a degradation in the condition of a destitute husband. These evils will spring up also in the character and feelings of the husband, where the wife has lived in circumstances entirely unlike his own. Instances there are, and will be, in which such consequences will not follow; but the tendencies are strongly in this direction.

The Ages of those joined in marriage, should be somewhat near each other. How else can there be true sympathy between them? One shall charge the other with levity, and that allegation be retorted by the charges of moroseness, and insensibility to enjoyment. It is well, perhaps, that there be that difference of age, which nature indicates in the sexes. It is not of two, or four, years we speak. The great poet of humanity writes, and perhaps wisely,—if these be the limits,—thus:

"Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart."

Much has been said in relation to the expediency of Early Marriages. In Italy, early marriages are regarded as so important, that in many churches and fraternities, there are annual funds established, to raise portions, and procure comfortable matches for young maidens who are destitute. In their favor, is the circumstance that the habits are then less established, and the parties may more easily conform to one another, than afterward. Nor is prejudice then so strong, nor opinion so inflexible, as in later manhood. The husband and wife can hence educate one another better, than if their marriage had occurred late in life. It was for these, and for prudential reasons, that Dr. Franklin recommended early marriages.

On the other hand, it cannot be questioned, that young ladies are often engaged, and sometimes married too early, before their school education is completed, or their judgment matured. The mother is, perhaps, anxious to marry her daughters "off her hands," and, moved by a miserable ambition, she and they, lest she be later in her engagement than some companion, consent to her being sacrificed on the first offer, be it what it may. Hence come those fatal alliances, in which "a six month's acquaintance after marriage, transforms the beau ideal into a fool, or a coxcomb; and the happy couple, to use an expression of Lady Blessington's, have to 'pay for a month of honey, with a life of vinegar.'" Circumstances should affect a predetermination on this point, yet where they are balanced, she is the wiser, who postpones a matrimonial connection, until her age, and her preparation for it, indicate its propriety.



Chapter X.

THE SOCIETY OF YOUNG MEN.

Importance of right views on this point. We cannot banish all thoughts of love. The opposite extreme. Regard not every one as a lover. Two errors in the society of gentlemen. Forwardness. The poet's caution. Undue reserve. The happy medium attainable. Should know a variety of gentlemen. The acquaintances of Brothers.

No period of life is more decisive of a female's character, than that at which she enters the society of the opposite sex, as a woman. Her manners and conversation at that time usually do much to determine her condition for life. The IDEAL which she carries with her into the world, becomes the presiding star of her destiny. On her general estimate of man, and the views she entertains of his sex, every thing now depends. If she can penetrate character, and has resolution to form high purposes, blessed is her lot.

First, then, I cannot join with those who advise a young lady to banish entirely from her mind every thought of love, until she receives overtures for particular attention. Providence designed her for the exercise of her affections; why then seek wholly to suppress them, or to expend no thought whatever upon them? "Nature," says a recent writer, "will assert her rights over the beings she has made: she avenges all attempts to force or shackle her operations. We ought long ago to have been convinced that the only power allowed to us, is the power of direction." Yet "to girls have been denied the very thoughts of love,—even in its noblest and purest form."—They "know nothing at all of it, or nothing but what they have clandestinely gathered from corrupt sources." Is not this evidently doing violence to one of the strongest, and I will add, the holiest, impulses of their nature? If it be true, as some affirm, that the marriage service is the first part of the Liturgy perused by a young lady, I do not regard it as matter for surprise, derision, or censure. She, who forces her mind wholly off this subject, will be ill qualified, when the occasion demands it, to listen to proposals of marriage. Ignorance and blindness can do little to give her that sound judgment, and true discrimination, which alone should dictate her reply. No, let this rather be done. Let her teachers and parents speak frankly on this topic, treat it as a serious concern, and aid her to form in her mind, a model of moral and intellectual excellence, such as would render one a desirable companion, and yet let this model be not a creature of romance, but of real life. Is it not better thus to guide the affections and regulate the views on this subject, than to stifle all feeling, and blindfold the mind to love? In what province should reason be exercised, if not in that, which affects our condition through life, for weal, or for woe?

But, while encouraged to give suitable thought to this subject, let not a young lady become totally absorbed in it. Let her not look only on a gentleman to canvass his merits as a lover, and a husband. The sexes should associate for other and nobler objects; for social enjoyment, for intellectual improvement, and for mutual aid, as moral and religious beings. She who overlooks these precious advantages of general society, sacrifices an invaluable means of education, no less than one of rational gratification.

Still less should one allow herself to imagine every gentleman in love with her. This sometimes occurs in consequence of an ignorance of the world; sometimes from the illusion of very strong affections; and again, from the unworthy practice of certain young men, who delight in exciting and trifling with the feelings of the opposite sex. Let the cause be what it may, nothing more exposes a lady to ridicule. Such extreme and manifest sensitiveness provokes the trifler to fresh follies. The sensible are disgusted by it; and she, who thus indulges her imagination, is sowing the wind, and will reap the whirlwind. Sorrow, regret, and disappointment await her.

In regard to "behavior to gentlemen," I do not think set rules and forms are needful. Where the heart is duly controlled, and the understanding cultivated, and fancy a servant not mistress of the soul, the deportment will be spontaneously right, and commendable. Then all may safely be trusted to nature. The manners will be the expression of gentleness, mingled with firmness.

Two errors, however, are so prevalent in some circles, as to demand a passing notice. One is that of the Forward and presuming. No lady can make advances of a character bold and obvious to a gentleman, and still retain a good name in society. Modesty is the only current coin of her sex; nothing can atone for its absence. A self-possessed, yet retiring manner, is at once the index, and the charm, of female worth. It may be needless to speak of the confirmed coquette. She, like the coxcomb, may expect no mercy from others. There are few, to whom the caution of the poet is necessary,

"She can both false and friendly be. * * * * * * * * She gives a side glance and looks down, Beware! Beware! Trust her not; She is fooling thee."

Examples of this character, I believe, are comparatively rare, despite his opinion, who said that "at sixteen, woman is a coquette, par instinct." Still, it is too true, that "the whole system of female education tends more to instruct women to allure, than to repel;" although "as rationally might the military disciplinarian limit his tuition to the mode of assault, leaving his soldiery in entire ignorance of the tactics of defence."

Opposed to this fault stands that of undue Reserve. Some young ladies are so trained as apparently to enshrine themselves from all approach, in the society of gentlemen. They are models of decorum, miracles of prudence, and drawn up, as if always anticipating a foe. They inwardly sneer at all sentiment, and deride those, who exhibit it, and pride themselves, above all things, in keeping every one completely at a distance.

I do not deny that a female has a right, and ought, to repel all improper liberties, and to shew those, who are unduly familiar, that she can assume, at fit times, a little dignity. But need one, in doing this, build round herself a wall of ice? Shall she, through fear of seeming fond and forward, put on an eternal frown? In avoiding French freedom, we often substitute an Anglo-American prudery. The slightest compliment is interpreted as flattery, so that the remarker must do violence to his honest convictions, lest he offend an ever-suspicious, maidenly, pride.

The true medium between boldness and a chilling reserve may not be easily attained; yet it is worth years of effort, even to approximate this happy manner. There are women, who can invite to easy and pleasant conversation, and yet repel the most trivial impropriety in a gentleman. I could wish that our female writers, in their minute directions to the young of their sex, had recommended this desirable medium, instead of teaching them to regard themselves as always acting on the defensive. Can a lady never accept a present from a gentleman, without so doing it as to encourage his particular attentions? Does she, by consenting to walk, or ride with one, bind herself to him for life, or invite his addresses, as a suitor?

But let a young woman resolve, that, while she receives the ordinary marks of courtesy with readiness, she will not allow herself to infer that they signify every thing. If the remark of Lord Bacon be correct in general, that "women, when young, are the idols of men," the reverse of it is not seldom true. A companion for the evening is invested with imaginary dispositions, and she, who ought to have exercised her judgment, and waited for decisive tokens of favor, is captivated without the least intention on the part of her fancied lover.

It is certainly desirable that a young lady be acquainted, and that somewhat particularly, with a variety of gentlemen. Thus only can she be qualified to discriminate between the undeserving, the indifferent, and the excellent. How else can you know the indications of those who undervalue your sex in general, the worthless, gay, and unprincipled, and guard against their influence? There are those, who delight in making sport of an inexperienced female. To understand the traits of such, you must sometime have met with them. But be sure you never place yourself in the power of an individual of this character, or of one, whose principles and designs you suspect. If you doubt the purity of any one who seeks your society frequently, consult a friend older or wiser than yourself; and abide by the judgment of disinterested observers.

There are instances, in which a young woman is brought into the society of the other sex, by her Brothers. This sometimes exposes one to mistake the civilities of friendship, for manifestations of love. Thus situated, you ought to take special heed against those romantic ideas, and premature inclinations, that spring from passion and fancy. Here as at all times, the advice of a judicious brother, before whom those of his own sex are accustomed completely to disclose their true character, should be sought and prized. Do not permit yourself to indulge a predilection for one, against whom, as a companion for life, so near a relative and friend has warned you.



Chapter XI.

FIRST LOVE.

What is love? The first, the only all-pervading. Petrarch and Laura. "Love-matches." Self-oblivion indicates true love. Proofs of one's being affected by this sentiment. Shakspeare's description of a lover. Jealousy and Timidity indicate love. Overtures. Unrequited love. Rejection of Addresses.

I use the expression at the head of this chapter, because of the importance I attach, not only to the sentiment in general, but especially to its earliest developement. There are those, who sneer at the name of love. There are many, who laugh at its mention, if made in sober earnestness, and yet some of these, who thus speak in public, do, I believe, in the secrecy of their hearts, believe in, aye, reverence, it, as one of the most sacred impulses of our nature. Because we have witnessed, or read of, a silly sentimentalism, that affected its character, let us not straightway question the possibility of its existence in any one.

Nor would I encourage the little girl in musing over novels, or listening to talk on this subject, until she dreams herself in love. There is indeed little danger of this where friends have not made it a theme for perpetual inuendos and jests, but spoken frankly, simply, and seriously of it, as a reality in human experience. She, who finds herself tending to foolish imaginings on this subject, has but to employ her mind constantly, and preserve her health in soundness, and the illusion will be dispelled.

But what is love? Shall we take the description of it given by the master poet of our nature, who tells us that

"Love with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power; And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices"?

It may be thus mighty in its sway over some hearts; but not always are its courses so "swift." The affections of some "tremble, like a leaf, at every breath of love; while others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm." Yet in all, its approach causes great changes in the character, and usually alters the entire complexion of life. Where the individual has enjoyed great mental culture, it brings in its train increased hazards; and in not a few hearts, its involutions are strangely complex, and its abysses of fearful depth.

I am one of those who believe, that in strict truth, the first love is the only real, all-pervading affection. There are other sentiments, on which the marriage relation may be founded with fair and reasonable hopes of an happy result. But no one can love two individuals, simultaneously or successively, with equal strength. There is a fervor, in the freshness of the heart's first gift, that no second occasion can quicken. Petrarch could never have found another Laura. Though his was love at first sight, it endured until twenty-one years had terminated the life of its object. Our earliest manners, tones of voice, and expression of countenance, endure the longest. So does the stamp of love's seal, when new, outshine every subsequent impression. Hence the importance of bestowing this primal treasure with wisdom. Where all of this life, and all of the future is at stake, wary should be our steps, and well pondered our decisions.

We hear much of "love-matches." Weak transactions, but the foam of love's great deep, are many of these matches. Still there is such a thing as marriage based on spontaneous love. It may occur at a chance meeting, not, I allow, to be consummated without the revision of calm judgment, but still the fruit of a moment's impression. There is a kind of love, which is not natural, impulsive, and cordial, but the result of an unnatural predisposition, and an inflamed and diseased imagination. None the less is there an up-welling, genuine affection, that for the time, commands and absorbs woman's entire being. It is possible, that what is treated here as a jest, and there, as a matter of skepticism, may exist in some true hearts, suddenly conceived, yet persevered in, and permanent.

Some marry for money, others for beauty, for intelligence, or rank, or family, or fancy; there are those who marry for love. We have known females, who venerated the object of their affection so completely, as to mourn sincerely their own unworthiness of, and regard themselves as a simple gift of God to so good a man. Where one sees this beautiful self-oblivion, can he be a true philosopher, and assign any cause for it, save the existence of genuine love? She, who unites to this passion a provident self-possession, who is as calm, as she is keenly susceptible, will enter the marriage relation with the happiest omens of joy, and ever-growing success, in every coming duty.