The ladies' garland. [volume], November 10, 1827, Page 86, Image 2

About The ladies' garland. [volume] (Harpers-Ferry, Va. [W. Va.]) 1824-1828

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and lii* ru'n in-lit one da}- J■ j the t lmrcii she
(i rijui nli'il, In jp-t ini opportunity of speaking to
li o i.
At the ronrlusi m of the seri ice, lie presented
In r a honk, mill an air ol' profound respect;
anil, thiii s raping aripiaintanee, he attended
In i lii ine. On tin r.i.ni he said nilli a most in
sinuating air, that lie Inal long lushed lor an
opportunity el tell,tin her the iiiiiiieasurahle de
cree ol H - pert he hit Inr her; and inning pre
lareil In r willing ears hy such a discourse, he
added, enijil, ill-alii.—
" I! I lie h linage r.f a man of tolerable l<n tune,
high rank, and nni'l ten ent desire to phu-e
Von, mil he aeeeplalilstyoti nil I find these ijna
lilies in youi must humble, affectionate, and be
voted slave
i lien- was no resisting the cunipllinent. 1 In;
widow s answer was niuelied in such gracious
tel ills, that ( olnhiai' lentuieil to a-k pel mission
to wait on hi r at holin' The widow acceded;
and under pretext of playing at piquet, the. Mar
tpiis lie Ma-eaidle (its Cullihiac had created
hilnscll on this occasion) said su many agreea
hh- things, and played Ins part so ucil, that the
widow u as perfectly delighted.
The idea of having made a conquest of so
great a man • tor titles must make great men.)
induced her to treat him with the greatest alia
bilily, and in a short time the marquis had made
sueli an impression, that he was admitted to the
house, on the most intimate tc-iui
At length he told the old lady that he could
no longer resist so many attractions, and that
his hie depended on her returning his love. The
Hiduu blushed, and the. marquis went on to tell
her that he should not have hesitated su long in
making his proposals, hut that, living of an ex
tremely jealous disposition, and as madam had
a marriageable daughter, lie should he always
alarmed lest those who came to pay their atten
tions to her, might he .smitten with the superior
attractions of her mama.
‘Therefore, madam,’ he added, ‘ it must he,
that y’ou will marry her without delay—and af
ter that, we shall live in a slate of perfect bliss ’
(■'loss as this was, the old lady swallowed it:
her extreme desire to be made a marchioness
made her then regret, for the first time, that she
had refused In r daughter's hand to I’astourd.—
Nhe graeiomly accepted the Marquis' oiler, and
told him that his wishes respecting Niehon
should he com plod with On the same day she
sent 1 r :lit* chevahi r, and told him she would
consent to his immediate marriage with her
daughter, l’astourd, who was of course ac
quainted with the plot, agreed to every thing—
and in twelve hours afterwards was united to
.Niehon.
'I he day after the marriage, and as the wi
dow was expecting a visit from her marquis,
she received from him the following letter:
‘ I am extremely grieved, madam, that busi
ness of importance, compels me to go into lias
cony, from whence I have received letters, stat
mg that the greater part of my property (in
cluding my patent of nobility which had been
preserved by my illustrious ancestors with the
greatest rare, from the time ol the deluge) has
hern destroyed by lire. All that remains to
console me under this loss and disappointment,
tor. w ithout fortune or title, how can I pretend
to l h r honor of your hand.’/ is, that I have been
the instrument of bringing about your (laugh
tor's marriage; and in bidding you farewell
(oiever, permit me to advise you. in case vu
should ever receive any mure oilers of mar
riage. to inquire a little more cautiously alter
'he geutleman than you did respecting your
MASCAUILU-:.’
It is ol cuurse impossible to describe the la
dy s indignation at being thus grossly deceived
and atlronted, lur she noiv saw through the
"hole atlair. She went into the country, and
declared she would never return. Time’, how
«ver, changed this deleiimuation , and the apo
logies and forbearance ol' her son in law, and
the allcctionate attentions ol her daughter, in
duced her to lurgne them, and to abandon that
silly v unity which might have destroyed her
happiness.
“ MARRIED WELL.”
I here is not an expression m the uiiole F.n"
li'li language more wretchedly abused than
’•‘is : It is abused, because it is misapplied.—
W lien properly used, it tells of a heart and a '
baud connexion ; a blending together of similar :
lustes and fancies through hie; a giving aw;iv
early in the spring of life the affections "of the
lieail, and a joining them in marriage, with
the steadiest determination of adding a joy to
the existence of each other. But this is all for- I
gotten in the race of selfishness; and the luti
guage is, Mr. James Lovemouey has mairicd
well, very well. "Ah! pray, who has lie mar
ried.1 " \\ hy, Miss Lucy Oiumiudi, the lady
•rum the south : her lather has lately died : and
she has forty thousand dollars at her command.
Indeed! well, I always thought James would
succeed well in the world ; he is such a genteel, \
good-looking fellow, and there is something so j
insinuating about him: but is the Lulv hand 1
some "1 never saw her but once: she was 1
elegantly dressed then, hut was a little lame, j
and squints with one eye.” 1 did not stop to
hear the further conversation: but probably
the third and last question was, “lias she a i
good disposition, or is she intelligent But this !
last is a trilling matter with those who wish to 1
marry well \\ ell, we live to he happy; vve
ponder much upon the best method of becoming
so; but d we wander Irom the true path in mat -
riage, we get lost in a wild of misery, where the
sunlight of enjoyment scarcely ever finds its
way. Now, I, for one, do not believe that mo
ney is the grand panacea for every ill of mar
riage, or that it will create a smile of jov upon
the brow where affection does not dwell. " 'lake
tli(; word of an old fellow lor it. he who woos
and wins modest merit; who seeks a^jiartner
for the social circle, and a helpmate for the do
mestic concerns o! life: w ho uses the voice of
reason (and 1 have no objection to his listening
a little to the wurblings of fancy) in his choices
w ill marry well. Although he may not obtain a
copper with his bride, yet she brings to him a I
willing heart and a free mind; and these arc of j
infinite value to have ever around us, as we ;
journey on through the world. There is a
warning in Mr. Loveinoney's ease, and a moral
to he gleaned from it: still' it is not in every in- I
stance that the lameness is perceptible, or the
blindness visible; yet there is many a poor fel- i
low who has been engaged in“ marrying well” I
m the world, and yet has iouad to Ins sorrow,
that he had been lame, and almost blind in the j
subject of matrimony. Away wi'h it all! the j
wealth of an intelligent, virtuous, and modest
partner, will last and grow bright with use, like
f ratiklin n key; while the other may ride away
,f,'; «i|>K of every speculation. 1 have done.
A little miscellaneous chat on the subject is well;
it interests us all; and always hy reasoning to
gether we shall become wiser, and belter.'and
! happier.—[Tanion Emporium.
[/Vowi the fiobton Spectator ]
A BACHELOR S OLD AOE.
At the request of two graceless Invourites ol
mine, who, when urchins, were as much my pets
as are now mv cat and dog, I have attempted to
C|ve a description of the lag end of a bachelor's
hie Time, when we. fust attempt to pull his
(lowing beard, in the young days of our exis
tence, when our blood gallops through our veins
with a swilt and healthy flow, then looks like a
respectable, decent old gentleman, with sugar
plums in both pockets But in after years, when
gray hairs and night-caps, gout and peevishness,
take the place of strength mid the worship of
Dan ( upid, he changes his appearance to a mi
serly old rascal, who covets all your pleasures,
and even lile itself. A young bachelor is like a
■stout ship in ballast, riding merrily over tbe bil
lows nl pain and wo, and should he go down to
the caverns of death, bis loss is little felt by the
owner, and but few beside are affected by the
catastrophe. But in the latter part of his life, he
resembles somewhat that same ship stripped ol
its rigging, a perishing nuisance in the dock of
society. 1 here is something ludicrous in the
situation ol our corps, when we have arrived at
(lie age ol sixty. It we have a little property,
we are daily reminded of the uncertainty of life
ami convenience ol a will, with the inuendo, that
the adviser is a particular friend of ours. Mis
sionarics, Bible Societies, interested fifteenth
cousins, and would-be-heirs, are haunting you
■ f ni^ht and by day,—hollow-hearted kindness,
and the treacle ut flattery, are lavished upon
you ■■ against the stomach of your sense."—
Should you take cold, physic by quantity is ar
iat cd.before you, or it caught napping, poured
d >\\n your throat, as one would drench a horse.
A little farther on. when you wax a little more
lanthern-jawed, the very servants east their
cy. ~ upon your visage, and then stealthy glan
ce toward the coat in which your pocket-book
bivouacs; and when your eyes shall have be
come glazed, they doubtless will come in as
lett-handed heirs ol some of your personal pro
pertv. 1 here is no child to watch and weep—■
no female, lip with its affectionate kiss to touch
your damp brow of agony—no fair hand to
smooth the pillow of dissolution—no tear of sin
cerity to water the sod when it shall rest on
your bosom ; but all of the hereafter of this
world, is, to have some vile speller with a chisel
as broad as his forehead, cut out upon a slate
stone, to be placed at your head, your epitaph
as follows :
Hear lyes the hoddv of
iclmbod singletown who
livved respexted & dyed
lame-hent-ed. IIaged sixty 1
Hut there are deeper causes of lament apper
taining to the life, old age. and death of a bach
elor He. dies the last link in the chain of an
existence which has especially hern handed
down to him for continuance—he has declined
to exercise the duties, to answer the responsi
bilities, and to participate in those pleasures,
which hie has presented to him The cup of
consolation, offered to him by his Maker, has
been rejected, and by his own act, at the hour
when it was most needed, he has deprived him
self of the reviving draught it contained. His
course, however gallant it may have been thro'
the waters of existence, leaves no trace behind
i hose kindly affections which entwine them
selves around every fibre of the heart of a bus
band, to him are unknown. He stands in old
age, a pyramid on the desert—around it deso
lation—within it death.
Go, get wives—act a; I preach, and not as I
hare practised. Iciubou