rvations call to mind a little domestic story, of which I was
once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and
accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashionable
life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample;
and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in elegant
pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fancies that
spread a kind of witchery about the sex.--"Her life," said he, "shall be
like a fairy tale."

The very difference in their characters produced a harmonious
combination; he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast; she was all
life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he
would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her
the delight; and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn
to him, as if there alone she sought favor and acceptance. When leaning
on his arm, her slender form contrasted finely with his tall, manly
person. The fond confiding air with which she looked up to him seemed to
call forth a flush of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if
he doted on his lovely burden for its very helplessness. Never did a
couple set forward on a flowery path of early and well-suited marriage
with a fairer prospect of felicity.

It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have embarked his
property in large speculations; and he had not been married many months
when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he
found himself reduced to almost penury. For a time he kept his situation
to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance and a breaking
heart. His life was but a protracted agony; and what rendered it more
insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a smile in the presence
of his wife; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the
news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was
not well with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, and
was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness.
She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandishments to win him
back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul.
The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought
that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and
the smile will banish from that cheek--the song will die away from those
lips--the l