sband. "I am going to see
Fanny Ellsler. If you will go with me, I shall be very happy to have
your company. If not, I must go alone."

"And I am going to the Philharmonic. I thought you understood that,"
I replied, with equal resolution.

"Oh! very well," said he, not seeming to be at all disturbed. "Then
you can use the carriage at the door. I will walk to the theatre."

Saying this, Mr. Smith turned from me deliberately and walked away.
I heard him tell the driver of the carriage to take me to the
Musical Fund Hall; then I heard the street-door close, and then I
heard my husband's footsteps on the pavement as he left the house.
Without hesitating a moment for reflection, I followed to the door,
entered the carriage, and ordered the man to drive me--where? I had
no ticket for the concert; nor could I go alone!

"To the Musical Fund Hall, I believe, madam," he said, standing with
his fingers touching the rim of his hat.

I tried to think what I should do. To be conquered was hard. And it
was clear that I could not go alone.

"No," I replied, grasping hold of the first suggestion that came to
my mind. "Drive me to No.--Walnut street."

I had directed him to the house of my sister, where I thought I
would stay until after eleven o'clock, and then return home, leaving
my husband to infer that I had been to the concert. But long before
I had reached my sister's house, I felt so miserable that I deemed
it best to call out of the window to the driver, and direct him to
return. On arriving at home, some twenty minutes after I had left
it, I went up to my chamber, and there had a hearty crying spell to
myself. I don't know that I ever felt so bad before in my life. I
had utterly failed in this vigorous contest with my husband, who had
come off perfectly victorious. Many bitter things did I write
against him in my heart, and largely did I magnify his faults. I
believe I thought over every thing that occurred since we were
married, and selected therefrom whatever could justify the
conclusion that he was a self-willed, overbearing, unfeeling man,
and did not entertain for me a particle of affection.

It was clear that I had not been able to manage my spouse,
determined as I had been to correct all his faults, and make him one
of the best, most conciliating and loving of husbands, with whom my
wish would be law. Still I could not think of giving up. The thought
of being reduced to a tame, submissive wife, who could hardl