said a good deacon to her one day, when
she was ordering him about at a catechizing, "you ought to give honor to
your husband; the wife is the weaker vessel."

"_I_ de weaker vessel?" said Candace, looking down from the tower of her
ample corpulence on the small, quiet man whom she had been fledging with
the ample folds of a worsted comforter, out of which his little head
and shining bead-eyes looked, much like a blackbird in a nest,--"_I_ de
weaker vessel? Umph!"

A whole-woman's-rights' convention could not have expressed more in a
day than was given in that single look and word. Candace considered
a husband as a thing to be taken care of,--a rather inconsequent and
somewhat troublesome species of pet, to be humored, nursed, fed,
clothed, and guided in the way that he was to go,--an animal that was
always losing off buttons, catching colds, wearing his best coat every
day, and getting on his Sunday hat in a surreptitious manner for
week-day occasions; but she often condescended to express it as her
opinion that he was a blessing, and that she didn't know what she should
do, if it wasn't for Cato. In fact, he seemed to supply her that which
we are told is the great want in woman's situation,--an object in
life. She sometimes was heard expressing herself very energetically in
disapprobation of the conduct of one of her sable friends, named Jinny
Stiles, who, after being presented with her own freedom, worked several
years to buy that of her husband, but became afterwards so disgusted
with her acquisition that she declared she would "neber buy anoder
nigger."

"Now Jinny don't know what she's talkin' about," she would say. "S'pose
he does cough and keep her awake nights, and take a little too much
sometimes, a'n't he better'n no husband at all? A body wouldn't seem to
hab nuffin to lib for, ef dey hadn't an ole man to look arter. Men
is nate'lly foolish about some tings,--but dey's good deal better'n
nuffin."

And Candace, after this condescending remark, would lift off with one
hand a brass kettle in which poor Cato might have been drowned, and fly
across the kitchen with it as if it were a feather.

[To be continued.]

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

_The Works of Francis Bacon_, Baron of Verulam, Viscount St. Alban, and
Lord High Chancellor of England. Collected and edited by James Spedding,
M.A., of Trinity College, Cambridge; Robert Leslie Ellis, M.A.,
late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge; and