My ten-pound-note! my ten-pound-note! The "words of promise" which thou breath'st, And shall some vulgar tradesman's hand Thy snowy charms profane? No! let them tick!-my ten-pound-note, Sleep in my purse again! My ten-pound-note! my ten-pound-note! My love for thee is wild ; Like father's love who gazes on His last consumptive child! Though Duns may thunder at my door, In their besieging train; They shall not have thee !—ten-pound-note, CHAPTER IX. ON THE HOLY ESTATE OF MATRIMONY: BEING A CONSIDERATION OF ITS ADVANTAGES AND INCONVENIENCES IN REFERENCE TO YOUNGER WOMAN! Sweet partner of our joys! gentle soother of our sorrows! art thou not the greatest blessing vouchsafed to man in this "vale of tears?" Art thou not his pride in health, his support in sickness, his fond and true companion always? What is wealth unsunned by thy smile? What is rank, ungraced by thy charms? What, in a word, is life itself, without thee? The world was formed out of chaos; the glad sun shone; the merry birds sang; the beauteous flowers sprang up, and Man walked forth in his Maker's image. But still there was something wanting; the cup of enchantment was not full, the spell of Eden's bliss was not complete. Then Woman in her beauty burst upon creation; and all the humbler denizens of earth worshipped and admired, while proud Man loved her. Woman! adorable woman! pure and unselfish being! devoted guardian of our blisses! thou art indeed the noblest work of the Creator! Falsehood may betray thee, error may mislead thee; but even in thy most fallen condition, there still lingers a ray of thy former radiance. The torch that is flung down and trampled upon the ground, emits long after some sparks of its pristine light. There, Detrimentals, there is sentiment for you! Yes, woman is indeed the crowning masterpiece of God, the most exquisite gem of this lovely earth! But, my good fellows, however capable your minds may be of acknowledging and paying homage to her manifold excellences, it is all in vain; woman is too high a blessing for your reach. You may form flattering and agreeable ideas of happy days spent in her society, and rapturous nights passed in her arms, but prudence-nay, necessity-forbids you to think of realizing those enchanting visions. To use a vulgar but expressive phrase, woman is "food for your betters." I am sorry for you, but such is the case. She is a prize you must not dare to clutch, a crown you must not presume to place upon your head, a companion you must not ask to tread with you the thorny paths of life, whose flowers grow still lovelier from her smile. Women, Detrimentals, are tender beings, but, alas! as fragile as they are tender. Their voluptous eyes soon grow dim beneath the stony gaze of Adversity; their graceful figures soon shrink and dwindle beneath the pressure of Poverty; their delicate feet soon become bruised upon the rough roads of Deprivation; and their sweetest songs are soon turned into "lamentations" more dismal than Jeremiah's, of doleful memory, when they have no other accompaniment but the squalling of half a dozen famishing children! Ornaments—and oh, what delicious ones to a wealthy home, they are incumbrances in a needy one; ever smiling angels in a palace, they are grumbling fiends in a hovel. Love is a magnificent preserve, full of the most rare and tempting game, but shut in from the high-road by a lofty wall, while an obliging board bids "Trespassers Beware "-and those "trespassers" are-Younger Sons! Love is a beautiful orchard, crammed with trees that are bending beneath the choicest and most delicious |