There is a much better contrivance than this of the philosopher, which is, to cover the walls of the house with paper: this is generally done; and, though it cannot abolish, it at least shortens, the period of female dominion. The paper is decorated with flowers of various fancies, and made so ornamental, that the women have admitted the fashion without perceiving the design.

There is also another alleviation of the husband's dis tress; he generally has the privilege of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the key of which he is allowed to keep. This is considered as a privileged place, and stands like the land of Goshen amid the plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and ever on his guard; for should he inadvertently go abroad and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is always on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately enters in triumph with buckets, brooms and brushes; takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers to rights-to his utter confusion, and sometimes serious detriment. For instance:

A gentleman was sued by the executors of a tradesman, on a charge found against him in the deceased's books, to the amount of thirty pounds. The defendant was strongly impressed with the idea, that he had discharged the debt and taken a receipt; but, as the transaction was of long standing, he knew not where to find the receipt. The suit went on in course, and the time approached when judgment would be obtained against him. He then sat seriously down to examine a large bundle of old papers, which he had untied and displayed on a table for that purpose. In the midst of his search, he was suddenly called away on business of importance ;-he forgot to lock the door of his room. The housemaid, who had been long looking out for such an opportunity, immediately entered with the usual implements, and with great alacrity fell to cleaning the room, and putting things to rights. The first object that struck her eye was the confused situation of the papers on the table; these were without delay bundled together as so many dirty knives and forks; but in the action, a small piece of paper fell unnoticed on the floor, which happened to be the very receipt in question: as it had no very re

spectable appearance, it was soon after swept out with the common dirt of the room, and carried in the rubbish-par into the yard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the credit in his book; the defendant could find nothing to obviate the charge, and so judgment went against him for the debt and costs. A fortnight after the whole was settled and the money paid, one of the children found the receipt among the rubbish in the yard.

There is another custom, peculiar to the city of Philadelphia, and nearly allied to the former. I mean, that of washing the pavement before the doors every Saturday evening. I at first took this to be a regulation of the police; but, on further inquiry, find it is a religious rite preparatory to the Sabbath; and is, I believe, the only religious rite, in which the numerous sectaries of this city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about sunset, and continues till about ten or eleven at night. It is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on those evenings; he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty water thrown against his legs; but a Philadelphian born is so much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian may be known any where by his gait. The streets of New York are paved with rough stones; these indeed are not washed, but the dirt is so thoroughly swept from before the doors, that the stones stand up sharp and prominent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not accustomed to so rough a path. But habit reconciles every thing. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian at New York, he walks the streets with as much painful caution as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet lamed with the gout; while a New Yorker, as little approving the plain masonry of Philadelphia, shuffles along the pavement like a parrot on a mahogany table.

It must be acknowledged, that the ablutions I have mentioned are attended with no small inconvenience; but the women would not be induced, on any consideration, to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can give you the strongest assurances that the women of America make the most faithful wives and the most attentive mothers in the world; and I am sure you will join me in opinion that

if a married man is made miserable only one week in a whole year, he will have no great cause to complain of the matrimonial bond.

May you die among your Kindred.-GREENWOOD.

IT is a sad thing to feel that we must die away from our home. Tell not the invalid who is yearning after his distant country, that the atmosphere around him is soft; that the gales are filled with balm, and the flowers are springing from the green earth ;-he knows that the softest air to his heart would be the air which hangs over his native land; that more grateful than all the gales of the south, would breathe the low whispers of anxious affection; that the very icicles clinging to his own eaves, and the snow beating against his own windows, would be far more pleasant to his eyes, than the bloom and verdure which only more forcibly remind him how far he is from that one spot which is dearer to him than the world beside. He may, indeed, find estimable friends, who will do all in their power to promote his comfort and assuage his pains; but they cannot supply the place of the long known and long loved; they cannot read as in a book the mute language of his face; they have not learned to wait upon his habits, and anticipate his wants, and he has not learned to communicate, without hesitation, all his wishes, impressions, and thoughts, to them. He feels that he is a stranger; and a more desolate feeling than that could not visit his soul. How much is expressed by that form of oriental benediction, May you die among your kindred!

Description of a Death Scene.-MISS FRANCIS,

GRACE, agitated by these events, and her slight form daily becoming more shadowy, seemed like a celestial spirit, which, having performed its mission on earth, melts into a misty wreath, then disappears forever. Hers had always

been the kind of beauty that is eloquence, though it speaks not. The love she inspired was like that of some fair infant, which we would fain clasp to our hearts in its guileless beauty; and when it repays our fondness with a cherub smile, its angelic influence rouses all that there is of heaven within the soul. Deep compassion was now added to these emotions; and wherever she moved, the eye of pity greeted her, as it would some wounded bird, nestling to the heart in its timid loveliness. Every one who knew her felt the influence of her exceeding purity and deep pathos of character; but very few had penetrated into its recesses, and discovered its hidden treasures. Melody was there, but it was too plaintive, too delicate in its combination, to be produced by an unskilful hand. The coarsest minds felt its witching effect, though they could not define its origin ;-like the servant mentioned by Addison, who drew the bow across every string of her master's violin, and then complained that she could not, for her life, find where the tune was secreted.

Souls of this fine mould keep the fountain of love sealed deep within its caverns; and to one only is access ever granted. Miss Osborne's affection had been tranquil on the surface, but it was as deep as it was pure. It was a pool which had granted its healing influence to one, but could never repeat the miracle, though an angel should trouble its waters. Assuredly he that could mix death in the cup of love which he offered to one so young, so fair, and so true, was guilty as the priest who administered poison in the holy eucharist.

Lucretia, now an inmate of the family, read to her, supported her across the chamber, and watched her brief, gentle slumbers with an intense interest, painfully tinged with self-reproach. She was the cause of this premature decay, innocent, indeed, but still the cause. Under such circumstances, the conscience is morbid in its sensibility,——— unreasonable in its acuteness; and the smiles and forgiveness of those we have injured, tear and scorch it like burning pincers. Yet there was one who suffered even more than Lucretia,-though he was never conscious of giving one moment's pain to the object of his earliest affection. During the winter, every leisure moment which Doctor Willard's numerous avocations allowed him, was spent in

Miss Osborne's sick chamber; and every tone, every look of his went to her heart with a thrilling expression, which seemed to say, "Would I could die for thee! Oh! would to God I could die for thee!"

Thus pillowed on the arm of Friendship, and watched over by the eye of Love, Grace languidly awaited the return of spring; and, when May did arrive, wasted as she was, she seemed to enjoy its pure breath and sunny smile. Alas! that the month, which dances around the flowery earth with such mirthful step and beaming glance, should call so many victims of consumption to their last home! Towards the close of this delightful season, the invalid, bolstered in her chair, and surrounded by her affectionate family, was seated at the window, watching the declining sun. There was deep silence for a long while ;-as if her friends feared that a breath might scare the flitting soul from its earthly habitation. Henry and Lucretia sat on either side, pressing her hands in mournful tenderness; Doctor Willard leaned over her chair and looked up to the unclouded sky, as if he reproached it for mocking him with brightness; and her father watched the hectic flush upon her cheek with the firmness of Abraham, when he offered his only son upon the altar. Oh! how would the heart of that aged sufferer have rejoiced within him, could he too have exchanged the victim!

She had asked Lucretia to place Somerville's rose on the window beside her. One solitary blossom was on it; and she reached forth her weak hand to pluck it; but its leaves scattered beneath her trembling touch. She looked up to Lucretia with an expression, which her friend could never forget, and one cold tear slowly glided down her pallid cheek. Gently as a mother kisses her sleeping babe, Doctor Willard brushed it away; and, turning hastily to conceal his quivering lip, he clasped Henry's hand with convulsive energy as he whispered, "Oh! God of mercies, how willingly would I have wiped away all tears from her eyes!"

There is something peculiarly impressive in manly grief. The eye of woman overflows as readily as her heart; but when waters gush from the rock, we feel that they are extorted by no gentle blow.