offering me his arm. As we followed the others, he said, "I am going to take a great liberty, and I must ask you to retain the character of the forgiving Undine a few minutes longer. Will you make me a present of one of those flowers? I am a perfect school-girl in my love of autographs and relics and I want a memorial of what I have seen and heard to-night." "that you would do that which you cannot defend? At any rate, you are very honest." He smiled. "I should consider the act wrong, absurd, useless, and-unavoidable," said he. "There is no extremity, surely, to which a man may not be driven in order to preserve his name from a stain impossible to cleanse. If Methven had had any previous opportunity of proving his I severed a lily from my boquet very gracious-courage, I should have thought him altogether unly, and gave it to him, saying, as I did so, "I As it is, I don't see what else he think this the prettiest compliment I have yet received." "I never pay compliments," was his grave answer, as he took the flower. "Thank you; you are very kind." At supper he sat between Lady Emily and myself, and at first talked exclusively to his cousin. Presently, however, he turned and spoke to me in his peculiar quiet manner, half-deferential, halffamiliar, which it is impossible to describe. "We are arguing," said he, "won't you help us?" "I will help one of you," replied I, laughing, "when I know the subject of the argument." 66 "Oh, if you state my case," cried Lady Emily, you are certain to make me seem in the wrong. It is not fair. I'll tell you what we were discussing, Madeline-this terrible duel; and Mr. Tyrrell defends it." The "terrible duel" was an event just then occupying the attention of the whole fashionable world. Two young officers, nearly connected, and up to the time of their fatal difference strongly attached, had fought on some quarrel, which, beginning in a merely political question, had grown personal in the violence of the argument. One fell, and the other was scarcely restrained from committing suicide in the first agony of his fruitless remorse. That which rendered the case peculiarly distressing was the fact that the survivor had originally refused the challenge, and only been goaded into acceptance of it by taunts reflecting upon his courage. He was the more to be pitied, that, being of a highly nervous temperament physically, and never having been in action, nor had any opportunity of proving his mind to be stronger than his body, he must have felt himself peculiarly obnoxious to such suspicions, and unable, except by a very high mental effort, to despise them. Is it possible," asked I, addressing Mr. Tyrrell, "that you defend duelling on principle? I thought trial by combat had been abolished with other middle-age absurdities, and that nobody ever argued in favor of it, though, like many other things, plenty of people might be found who practise it." pardonable. The standard by which a woman, even if irreligious, tries thoughts and actions, is generally higher and purer than that of a man practically not inferior to herself; for two reasons:-first. because she is brought much less in contact with the actual, and therefore has not the same temptations to lower it; secondly, because, for the most part, she is less open-eyed to inconsistencies of all kinds, and therefore feels not the absolute need of making rule and practice, in some measure, accordant with each other. She is consequently prone to a state of mind which may be called the very reverse of masculine; she neither accommodates her rule to the reality, nor subdues the reality to her rule, but she unconsciously keeps them distinct, so that the one is pure, the other full of defects, and yet she is not distressed by the discrepancy. In many cases she perhaps fails to discover it. Thus. I was shocked by Mr. Tyrrell's proclamation of his own deliberate inconsistency; had he, on the contrary, expressed his determination never to fight a duel, and afterwards fought one, I should probably have forgiven him very easily. It is not for this, however, that I record the conversation. often have the words since recurred to my memory! Why did I not sooner comprehend the constraining principle of all his actions-the determination to do, not whatever was right, or wise, or even politic, but simply, whatever would preserve his honor from the merest possibility of a slur, either in his own eyes, or in the eyes of others. Strict, delicate, sensitive-nay, in a sense, if it be not profanation to use the word, spiritual was this honor of his. He was himself his own severest judge. Let it appear that he had in any way committed himself- -no matter how inadvertently--and no sacrifice appeared to him too mighty to redeem the pledge. But I was blind! How To return to that memorable evening. I was too much occupied with my triumphs and my admirers to notice the unusual demeanor of my father, though I have since been told that it was noticed by everybody else. He was in unusually high spirits at first, with some appearance of excitement. and he drank five or six glasses of wine in succession-a very uncommon practice for him, as he was a man not only of temperate but of abstemious habits. As the supper proceeded, he became apparently very tired, and unable to fulfil the ordinary conversational duties of a host. During the last half hour, he seemed in a state of absolute "Then you deliberately profess," observed I, exhaustion, exerting himself to answer such re "No," he replied; "I do not argue in favor of it. I only say, that, in Captain Methven's case, I should have done as he did." marks as were addressed to him with a smile of forced courtesy, but with a degree of effort so manifest, that it was painful to witness it. He roused himself again to pay the parting compliments to his guests, and stood bowing and making adieux, as each party took their leave, with a mechanical sort of regularity, and wandering eyes, which seemed to betoken that his thoughts were very far off. When the last was gone, he stood still a moment, pressing his hands upon his eyes, and then rapidly approached the sofa on which I was halfreclining, contemplating with languid satisfaction the becoming effect of my white draperies and lily coronet as displayed by a large mirror on the opposite side of the room. "Well, papa," said I, lifting my eyes to his as he drew near, "have you no compliments to pay me?" He looked at me fixedly in silence, and with an expression of gloom so profound, that I involuntarily started upright, and asked, "What is the matter?"—not, I confess, with any very grievous flutterings of heart, for one who loves nothing cannot possibly have many subjects of fear. He replied with his wonted cold brevity of man- | ner, which acquired repulsive harshness under the circumstances, "Madeline, you are a woman now, and a sensible one. I owe you my confidence. I am ruined." I sprang up, and caught him by the arm, looking wildly and eagerly into his face, almost expecting to discover symptoms of insanity. He met the look without flinching, and simply reiterated the words, "I am ruined." Then releasing himself from my grasp, and sitting down on the sofa, he made me sit beside him, and proceeded, with the same immovable conciseness, to explain the details of the case. These are unimportant, neither am I sufficiently conversant with business to record them accurately. The result is enough. It was ruin, dire, total, imminent! My mind could scarcely stretch to the comprehension of it. My father went on to say, that there was one chance of escape which it was impossible to render intelligible to me by reason of the technicalities which it involved. One thing was necessary, however—namely, secrecy; and this he took immense pains to make me comprehend. The secret must be kept for six months, and we must live as usual, incur our ordinary expenses, and take care to let no one suspect on how frail a tenure our prosperity-nay, our very means of existence, was hanging. At this point, my father came in contact with almost the only very strong feeling of right which existed in my mind-love of truth. I had a sovereign contempt for every species of deception, whether acted or expressed; it was not only impossible to me, but loathsome. I answered, on the impulse of the moment, "Papa, you must send me away. I cannot help you in this." He half smiled and I have since felt quite sure that he wished and intended to make me say this; indeed, it was evident at the moment that his plans had been arranged with a view to such a deter mination on my part. He immediately proposed to me to go and stay with some relations of ours, who, ever since I grew up, had been imploring a visit from me without success. The family consisted of an elderly bachelor brother, and two maiden sisters, likewise of sober maturity. Their name was Barron, and they resided in a large, formal, old-fashioned, country mansion, in dignified seclusion, or prim, periodical society, which it gave me the headache only to think of. Mr. Barron was my godfather, and he was likewise possessed of immense wealth; so that I suppose my father thought it no bad speculation to endeavor to secure his affections for me, just now, when other prospects seemed so lamentably failing. There was no help for it, and I reluctantly acquiesced. I felt half stunned, sure that some great misfortune had befallen me, yet by no means alive to its full extent; for I was in fact too ignorant of reality to conceive it. I had not, as yet, an idea of how much of my enjoyment of life was derived solely from the possession of wealth. I fancied that I should command as much admiration as I had hitherto commanded, with the additional satisfaction of feeling sure that I owed it to my personal claims only; and as I had never known what it was to want luxury and attendance, so I could not imagine the pain and discomfort of the deprivation-it never came across my thoughts. A vague, pretty vision of a cottage, such as stands often on the left-hand side of the stage, and is dwelt in by the heroines of melodramas, and of myself moving about in it, looking more handsome than ever in my simple attire, and gracefully busied in what I called to myself "household toils," without ever for one moment defining what such household toils might be, flitted not unpleasantly across my mind, and was my only embodiment of the idea of utter ruin." In the mean while, my maid packed up for me a wardrobe that might have suited a duchess, and, after receiving from my father a kiss which had less of coldness than any which I ever remembered to have received before, I took my place in the train, and started for I arrived at my destination about three o'clock in the afternoon, and was handed from the carriage by my godfather, whom I had not seen since I was a child. He was a somewhat stiff and heavylooking personage, some forty years old, whose hearty welcome was the most chilling that can be conceived. He took hold of my hand-for he did not shake it-said abruptly, and as if the words were produced by machinery, "I am glad to see you at Stanbury House," and then, giving me his arm, conducted me into the hall in silence. sisters were not at home, but would return to dinner; and he suggested that I should take a stroll in the grounds with him to wile away the time. Glad to do anything, I readily acquiesced, and we sauntered forth together. We walked for half an hour, and only one observation did he make in the whole course of the walk, except those that I wrenched from him by desperate questioning. This one was elicited by my stopping to admire a fine His aspen tree. "I don't know whether you have noticed Miss Eliza. "Last spring, Priscilla. Yes, certainly, I should n't have supposed anybody would have admired this furniture for its antiquity." Miss Barron. "I call June summer." Miss Eliza. "So do I; but this room was furnished in May." Another long silence. I gave it up, and determined to wait patiently for one of my hostesses to speak. I did wait a full quarter of an hour, during which both the sisters continued to sit bolt upright and stare at me. At the expiration of this period Miss Eliza volunteered an observation. "Did you notice a very curious thing in the grounds?" said she: " Iwe have an elm tree which grows just like an aspen, and an aspen which is shaped exactly like an elm.” There was no improvement when the sisters came in. They were hard-featured, angular women, with harsh, dull voices, and manners that were stiff, but scarcely polished enough to be called formal. They never spoke except in case of absolute necessity, and then said as little as they could. As for small talk, only a frantic person could have thought of such a thing in their presence. Occasionally each contradicted the other, and sometimes both at once briefly contradicted Mr. Barron; and these were the liveliest moments of the day. They never argued they could not Miss Barron remarked that the aspen was cerhave said consecutive words enough for an argu- tainly very like an elin, but she never could see ment; they might rather be said to deal in frag-that the elm had the smallest resemblance to an mentary and detached cavils. When we came into aspen. Miss Eliza said that was particularly the drawing-room after dinner, they both sat down strange. She would not have been surprised if bolt upright upon the sofa, and steadily stared at her sister had not seen the likeness in the aspen; me. I found I could not bear it, and many and but the elm was really so extraordinary like, that furious were the efforts which I made at conver- she could not understand how anybody could fail sation. Whatever I said Miss Barron doubted, to perceive it. Here the conversation dropped, and Miss Eliza Barron immediately differed from her sister, and did not agree with me. One specimen I may give: "I (hopelessly,) I have had a lovely day for my journey." and scarcely anything more was said, till we exchanged our frigid "Good-nights," and departed to rest. I believe these were both very good women; Miss Barron (sternly). “Do you call it lovely? they were strongly attached to each other, and inI found it very chilly." Miss Eliza Barron (very tended to be very kind to me. They were charquickly). "Oh! no, not chilly, Priscilla; the ther-itable to the poor, and regular in the performance mometer was above temperate. But certainly it could scarcely be called a lovely day; for there were two showers, and the clouds were very thick in the west." of their religious duties. They would have nursed each other in illness with devotion, though assuredly not with tenderness, and I do believe that if either had died, the survivor would have found it possible to look graver and say less than before. But, to live with them! I would rather live with three students of the French horn, and a singing master! My delight may be imagined, when, after a fortnight's endurance of this slow starvation, just as I was feeling that every spark of life, energy, and warmth was altogether extinguished within me, they gave a dinner-party, and among the first detachment of guests who entered, I recognized Mr. Tyrrell. And that they will be wil Hints on Public Architecture. By ROBERT DALE The Ladies' Work-Table Book; containing clear | lady should possess.' USEFUL and fashionable? O yes: there is knitting that is useful; we learned to knit. Of the fashionable, there is no doubt. We have had much pleasure in looking over the engravings, which are of the most entertaining kind-and can join in what the printer has said on the cover-"A work every We have received from Mr. Putnam, N. Y., a few sheets of this work as a specimen. They are very beautiful. Mordaunt Hall; or, A September Night. A Novel. Memoirs of my Youth. By A. DE LAMARTINE. of the condition and changes of foreign countries. And this not only because of their nearer connection with ourselves, but because the nations seem to be hastening through a rapid process of change, to some new state of things, which the merely political prophet cannot compute or foresee. PROSPECTUS. This work is conducted in the spirit of | now becomes every intelligent American to be informed Littell's Museum of Foreign Literature, (which was favorably received by the public for twenty years,) but as it is twice as large, and appears so often, we not only give spirit and freshness to it by many things which were excluded by a month's delay, but while thus extending our scope and gathering a greater and more attractive variety, are able so to increase the solid and substantial part of our literary, historical, and political harvest, as fully to satisfy the wants of the American reader. The elaborate and stately Essays of the Edinburgh, Quarterly, and other Reviews; and Blackroood's noble criticisms on Poetry, his keen political Commentaries, highly wrought Tales, and vivid descriptions of rural and mountain Scenery; and the contributions to Literature, History, and Common Life, by the sagacious Spectator, the sparkling Examiner, the judicious Athenæum, the busy and industrious Literary Gazette, the sensible and comprehensive Britannia, the sober and respectable Christian Observer; these are intermixed with the Military and Naval reminiscences of the United Service, and with the best articles of the Dublin University, New Monthly, Fraser's, Tait's, Atnsworth's, Hood's, and Sporting Magazines, and of Chambers' admirable Journal. We do not consider it beneath our dignity to borrow wit and wisdom from Punch; and, when we think it good enough, make ase of the thunder of The Times. We shall increase our variety by importations from the continent of Europe, and from the new growth of the British colonies. The steamship has brought Europe, Asia and Africa, into our neighborhood; and will greatly multiply our connections, as Merchants, Travellers, and Politicians, with all parts of the world; so that much more than ever it Geographical Discoveries, the progress of Colonization, (which is extending over the whole world,) and Voyages and Travels, will be favorite matter for our selections; and, in general, we shall systematically and very fully acquaint our readers with the great department of Foreign affairs, without entirely neglecting our own. While we aspire to make the Living Age desirable to all who wish to keep themselves informed of the rapid progress of the movement-to Statesmen, Divines, Lawyers, and Physicians-to men of business and men of leisure-it is still a stronger object to make it attractive and useful to their Wives and Children. 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It contains indeed the exposition only of the current literature of the English language, but this by its immense extent and comprehension includes a portraiture of the human mind in the utmost expansion of the present age. J. Q. ADAMS. LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 261.-19 MAY, 1849. From Fraser's Magazine. the marriage-state. That is, the husband is to be LETTER OF ADVICE FROM AN EXPERIENCED in all things supreme, you being virtually the ruler MATRON TO A YOUNG MARRIED LADY. LET other women say what they will, I for my part will ever maintain that a wife should always keep before her mind the very words of the marriage ceremony; and among others, the promise she has made to "love, honor, and obey.' This last word, I know, sounds ugly to many of my own sex; but that is entirely from a misapprehension. They suppose it to mean that a wife is to be a slave to her husband. And, to be sure, if you lived in a country of savages, and were fool enough to marry one of them, you might, I admit, be considered as fairly bound by your own act to be his slave; because among savages a wife is so regarded. And so again, if you took an oath of allegiance to the autocrat of Russia, you would make yourself his slave, because such is the Russian constitution. in the wife's proper department, but taking care, as far as possible, that your husband's sanction, and indeed command, should support whatever you do. You are, in your own proper sphere, hie representative, just as a judge represents the king; and you are to show your loyal obedience to him by doing your utmost to enforce compliance with all that he, in your person, shall decree and direct, and to bring him to give his sanction, as he is in duty bound to do, to all your decisions in your own department. And what is the wife's proper department? Evidently her household. Domestic management, almost all would say, belongs to the woman; as the trade or profession, or public business, belongs to the man. By domestic concerns I do not mean merely the office of a housekeeper, but all that relates to home: the servants, the children, social But when we in this country swear allegiance intercourse with friends and neighbors; all this, to the king, we do not bind ourselves to take his as well as the house and furniture, and the manproclamation for law, but only to obey him accord-agement of expenditure, belongs to the wife. ing to the constitution and custom of this country. And on the same principle you promise to obey your husband agreeably to the institutions and customs of a civilized country in the nineteenth century. In the humbler walks of life all people understand this. A carpenter, for instance, or a bricklayer, is reckoned a good husband if he keeps to his chisel or his trowel, works hard all the week, and regularly brings home his earnings to his wife. And it is her business to see that he and they should be. If he spends part of his earnings at the alehouse, the poor wife may be forced to submit; but she is not bound in duty. On the contrary, if she can scold him or scratch him away from the alehouse, she is bound, in obedience to him, to do so; because she represents him in her own proper department, and is acting by his authority—that is, by the authority of his right reason in opposition to his folly. And if he should stop part of his wages to buy a pair of shoes, without first consulting with her whether he wants them more than she does a new cap, she is to put a stop to this irregular proceeding if she can. He is rebelling against his own lawful authority, which is, in these matters, vested in her. The king, we know, is "in all causes and over all persons, within these his dominions, supreme;' "the children are fed and clothed, and lodged as that is, no act of Parliament is valid till it has received the royal assent, and no minister of state, or judge, &c., can hold office except under the king's "sign manual;" but we know, also, that in practice the king never thinks of refusing the royal assent to any bill that has passed both houses of Parliament, however distasteful it may be to him. And whatever papers his ministers put before him, he must sign; else they would not remain in office. And he cannot really appoint any ministers he may fancy; because no man could continue in office who could not command a majority in Parliament. He may, perhaps, sometimes wish his servants, the ministers," at the bottom of the sea, and his "faithful commons" along with them; but still he must do what his ministers bid him, and they must do whatever Parliament insists on. The "royal supremacy" consists, as all the world knows, in this that he is required not only to let ministers and Parliament do what they please, but also to issue his "royal commands" to that effect. They must act according to their own will, and he must declare it to be his will also, and must back" with all my worldly goods I thee endow ?"? it by his authority, even though his own private inclination should be quite another way. Such, as we all know, is our glorious constitution. And somewhat like it is the constitution of Now it is just the same in all situations in life. Let the physician attend to his patients, and the lawyer to his clients, and the squire receive his rents, &c.; and let each of these confine himself to these his professional duties, and let his wife manage the expenditure of his income in all par ticulars. What can be plainer than the words, Having once made over all that he has, or ever shall have, to the wife, it is most unfair that he should seek to recall any part of it. And the wife, though she may sometimes be unjustly re |