SIR-I am a married man, and that I am "'tis true 'tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true." Please to let my wife Dorothea know thus publicly what I have too tender a heart to tell her myself at present, but from this time henceforward, I shall do my best to extinguish every spark of affection toward her remaining in my bosom. Conceive what a tedious thing it is (to say nothing of wounded feelings) to be united to one who lets you see every moment of the twenty four hours which you spend in her society, that she is totally cool and indifferent toward you. Even so is my once loving Dorothea. To prevent her doing any thing, it is sufficient for me to request her to do it. She has no desire to accompany me in my visits abroad, and discovers no gratification when I stay with her at home. She never allows that I do any thing well. She continually accuses me of blunders and stupidity, and, if you take her word, I cannot close a blind, or poke the fire as it should be done. She never quarrels with me, but uniformly expresses herself toward me in short contemptuous exclamations or cool silence, by which I am at length convinced that she loves me not. Let her be informed by this, that we shall hereafter be equal. Love can only be kept alive by a reciprocation of sentiment. By itself it dies away, like an unreplenished fire, and once extinguished, can seldom be revived. Yours,

R.

Here is another of so opposite a character to the above, that I look upon them as quite a singular coincidence:

DEAR SIR-The complaint I am about to make is, I know, of a very odd nature. Some of your readers may take a hint from it; therefore I trust you will not refuse it admission. It relates to my wife Susan, in whom I can only discover one blemish: yet that one is of such serious importance, as often to give us many unhappy moments. Perhaps you will smile when I assure you, that what I have to charge her with is loving me too much. She doats upon me with an unreasonable strength and ardor of affection. She is never satisfied when I am out of her sight. She must

perpetually monopolize all my words, looks and actions. My absence, no matter how necessary to my business, she regards as a heavy calamity, the annunciation of which never fails to overcloud her face with shadows, and sometimes to fill her eyes with tears. When I am going to spend the evening out, under circumstances which must prevent her being my companion, I am compelled to use as much tender artifice in breaking to her the event, as if I had to tell her of the loss of my fortune, or the death of a dear friend. At dinner I have to stop eating, to give her a kiss; and if I accidentally sit down with my back toward her a minute, she pouts, says my affection is cooling, and wishes for the times that are past! She turns pale when I receive a letter directed in a small hand; and almost fainted yesterday morning on finding in my drawer a piece of blue riband, which she thought I cherished for the sake of some other object of affection. Pray, what is to be done in such a dilemma? If you cannot tell, please print this, that newly married wives may be more careful. Your obedient servant, R. D.

Here is a letter which has nothing whatever to do with the subject, but as it fills a corner I print it.

SIR-Let me beg you to say something excessively severe against a class of fellows who, just as you are in the acme of that equivocal agony preceding a sneeze, or abandoned almost irrevocably to the luxury of a gape, shout forth boo! or slap your shoulders, or place their hand across your mouth, and then burst forth into a horse laugh at the sight of your distress and disappointment; and there be those who will exclaim, "Thank you, sir," or after a sneeze, "God bless you, sir," and several similar trifling allusions to you, which make you conspicuous to the company, and turn the laugh against you without any real fault on your part. Pray satirize these fellows, and oblige your obedient servant and constant reader,

SAM SLEEPY.

CURIOSITY.

ALTHOUGH habits of impertinent curiosity are not of so black a kind as to bring the offenders under the jurisdiction of a court of justice, yet they may render them disagreeable companions, and go far to interrupt the peace and happiness of the social circle. Just in proportion as modesty and ingenuousness are attractive and graceful qualities in woman, this petty, mean, prying spirit is contemptible and disgusting. It outweighs all accomplishments, and neutralizes a thousand virtues. However susceptible a man may be to female charms, one such degrading exhibition of weakness would entirely freeze his heart; at least I am certain it would mine; and if I were a young, likely fellow, and were even engaged to marry the girl of my choice, I am afraid my passion could not outlive the discovery of such a fault. I have heard somewhere of a gentleman who broke off a match which promised very profitable, as well as agreeable results to all parties, because on suddenly opening the parlor door he caught the lady on her knees with he rear to the key hole. For my part I am naturally prone to confidence in all the world. I cannot look a lady or gentleman in the face and deliberately believe them capable of exploring other people's drawers, stealing an examination of letters or papers, or striving to overhear private conversations. I consider it to be fully equivalent to robbing. Indeed, I rather prefer that such an officious meddler should take money from my pocket than acquire knowledge of the contents of my papers. Yet I conceive the crime, for it perfectly merits the appellation, to be so totally incompatible with the feelings and character of a lady or gentleman, that I frequently leave my books and desk exposed, and scarcely admit in my most secret thoughts that any of my acquaintances could take advantage of a generous confidence in their integrity, and disgrace themselves by this moral petit larceny.

I recollect a pretty incident which may not be unin

teresting to the reader. A wild young fellow married a lovely girl, and having been long addicted to habits of dissipation, even the sincere attachment which he entertained toward his wife could not entirely disentangle him from its snares. His occasional irregular hours would have given any but one of so pure and sweet a disposition every reason to suspect that she did not hold that place in his affection which was her right; but this reflection scarcely ever intruded upon her spirits. The husband was far from being cruel, and really loved her, but his disposition was weak and his companions eloquent, and he seemed rather to grow worse than better in his habits. It happened once that he was called out of town, and in his haste left behind him a letter, in which, to please an unprincipled friend, he had spoken of his wife in terms of carelessness, if not of derision, and dilated freely upon his general course of life. Imagine the anxiety and suspense of the startled profligate when he found himself borne by a rapid steamboat upon a journey which must necessarily be of several days duration, yet remembered distinctly that the fatal letter was left exposed and unsealed upon his wife's table. He recollected also with a pang, that he had wantonly, in answer to her inquiries, boasted that it contained a profound secret, which he would not have revealed for the world. paced the deck in an agony of disappointment and shame. He pictured her opening the letter, turning pale with horror and indignation-perhaps fainting with anguish-alarming the servants-flying to her fatherrenouncing him for ever. As soon as possible he returned, but with a sinking heart, to his dwelling, bracing himself up to meet the fury of an enraged and wretched woman. He opened the door softly. She was bending over her table busily writing. A placid smile sealed her mouth with a perfect beauty, and spread over her glowing features the mild expression of peace and joy; and even as she wrote, the fragment of a sweet ballad fell from her lips in a low music that flows only from a heart entirely at rest. The husband stole noislessly around, and read as her pen traced her gentle thoughts.

He

"Your letter is lying by me. The very, very letter

containing the 'profound secret.' Now could I punish you for your carelessness; but, my dearest Charles, how could I look you in the face on your return after having basely violated your trust in my integrity, and meanly sought to gratify a silly curiosity at the expense of honesty, delicacy, and confidence. No. The letter is unopened, and lest you should feel uneasy, I inclose it to you, with the sincere love of your affectionate wife," &c.

"What an angel!" muttered the conscience stricken husband.

She started up with a cry of pleasure-and as Charles met the light of her clear, unshrinking eyes, he was humbled that he should have suspected her, and deeply struck with repentance at his own conduct. He thenceforth severed all ties that drew him abroad; and if the pure and happy being whose influence had thus allured him to the path of right had perused all his subsequent letters, she would have found nothing concerning herself save bursts of the sincerest admiration and the warmest love.

THE WHIPPED SCHOOL BOY.

There is a charming litttle boy who comes in and out of my room just when he pleases, tumbles over the new damp octavos, peeps into the papers, examines the engravings, and makes fun of my editorial articles with a very pretty impudence and familiarity. He is a sweet tempered, sunshiny, affectionate creature. I could write off a column with him hanging on my knee, when the whisper of another would fling me into a fever. I am so accustomed to his boyish, winning ways, that I love to have him near me. The sight of him fills me with cheerful thoughts, and affects me as pleasantly as a stream of afternoon sunshine on the wall, or the rustling of the low wind among the leaves in summer, or any thing that chimes in with my feelings, and enlivens the mind with agreeable associations. In