morning, at as early an hour as etiquette would allow, she made her appearance.

21. "I could not stay away this morning," she said the moment she entered. "I am so vexed and so hurt, I must have the sympathy of some friendly heart; and you are a friend to every one, especially when in trouble."

22. "What troubles you, Mrs. Cunningham ?" Mrs. Westbury inquired.

23. "You recollect," said Mrs. Cunningham, "what I said to you about Mr. Cunningham's indisposition. Well, as soon as I got home, I ran up stairs, of course, you know, to see how he was, expecting to find him in bed and asleep. Judge how I felt, when I found the bed as I left it, and no husband in the chamber. I flew down stairs, and searched every room for him, but in vain. I then rung for the servant, and asked if she knew where Mr. Cunningham was?' 'La, ma'am,' said she, 'I'm sure I don't know. He went out just after you did. He called me to give charge about the fires, and said he was going out. I thought he had altered his mind, and was going to Mrs. T――'s.'

24. "I dismissed the girl, and went to my chamber in agony, as you may suppose. I declare I hardly know what I did or thought for three long hours; for it was so long before Mr. Cunningham came home! I don't know what I said to him when he came, but he was not the kind, affectionate creature that he had ever been; for he almost harshly told me to 'cease my upbraidings,'-(upbraidings! think what a word!) 'for, if I sought pleasure where I liked, I must not quarrel with him for doing the same!' My dear Mrs. Westbury, I could not make him tell me where he had been, do all I could -and I have horrible surmises. What shall I do? I am sick at heart and almost distracted."

25. "Will you follow my advice, my dear Mrs. Cunningham ?" said Mrs. Westbury, who truly pitied her distress, much as she blamed her.

26. "O yes, I will do any thing to feel happier than I now

do. Really my heart is brcken," and she burst into a passion of tears. Mrs. Westbury attempted to soothe her, and then said: "Forgive me, if I wound, when I would only heal. You have been a little imprudent, and must retrace your steps by conforming to the taste of your husband. He does not like crowds, and you must, in part, relinquish them for his sake."

66

27. "And is not that hard ?" said Mrs. Cunningham. 'Why should he not conform to my taste, as well as I to his? Why must men always have their own way ?"

28. "That point it is not worth while to discuss," said Mrs. Westbury. "Your happiness, my friend, is at stake. you hesitate an instant which to relinquish, these pleasures, which, after all, are so unsatisfying, or the approbation, the happiness, perhaps, the heart even of your husband?"

29. "But why," persisted Mrs. Cunningham, “need he be so obstinate? You see he could go out and stay till two in the morning! It seems as if he did it on purpose to torment me;" and she again burst into tears.

30. "I have not the least doubt," said Mrs. Westbury, "that would you yield to Mr. Cunningham's wishes,—would

you let him see, that you care more about pleasing him than

yourself, he would cheerfully, and frequently, perhaps, accommodate himself to your taste. Few men will bear being driven, and they would be objects of our contempt if they would; for authority is divinely delegated to them; but almost any man would have generosity enough to take pleasure in gratifying the wife who evidently strives to meet his wishes, and is willing to sacrifice her own pleasures, that she may promote his happiness."

31. "But I can't see," said Mrs. Cunningham, "why my nappiness is not of as much consequence as my husband's ; I can't see why all the sacrifice should be on my side."

32. "Do you not perceive," said Mrs. Westbury, "that the sacrifices you make, are made to secure your happiness, and not to destroy it?"

33. “I don't know," said Mrs. Cunningham. "I can't bear to have Edward think to manage me as he would a little child, and then punish me as he did last night, if I don't do just as he says. I don't think it fair. And I don't know as it would be of any avail, should I follow your advice. Some mer will be ugly, do what you will! and why should you understand managing the men better than I do? You are two or three years younger!

34. "I never studied how to manage them," said Mrs. Westbury, "but I have thought a good deal on the best way of securing domestic happiness; and reason, observation, and the word of God teach me, that would the wife be happy and beloved, she must be in subjection to her own husband. He may not always be reasonable, but she can not 'usurp authority,' without at once warring against Heaven and her own peace and respectability.

it;

35. "Think of it, my dear Mrs. Cunningham; ruminate upon and in your decision be careful not to let will influence you to sacrifice a greater good for a less. It is not degrading for a wife to submit to her husband. On the contrary, she never appears more lovely than, when cheerfully and gracefully yielding up her own wishes, that she may comply with his. Women were not made to rule; and, in my view, the wife who attempts to govern, and the husband who submits to be governed, are equally contemptible."

36. “What an admirable wife you would be for a tyrant !" exclaimed Mrs. Cunningham. "I never heard the doctrine of passive obedience more strenuously inculcated. Indeed, you would make a tyrant of any man!"

37. "If any thing would disarm the tyrant," said Mrs. Westbury, "I think this passive obedience would do it, if at the same time, it were a cheerful obedience. But happily, you have no tyrant to disarm. Your husband, I am satisfied, would be easily pleased. Try, my friend, for a little while, to yield to him, and see, if you do not meet a rich reward."

38. "Well, I will think of it," said Mrs. Cunningham," and, perhaps, shall do as you advise; for really I am wretched now. O dear, I do wish the men were not so obstinate! so overbearing! so selfish!"

QUESTIONS.-1. On what principle are he, I, my, and his, emphatic, twenty-seventh paragraph? See Note VII, page 22. 2. What kind of emphasis on will, thirty-fifth paragraph! See Note VI., page 21

EXERCISE CXXXVIII.

FOREST TREES.

WASHINGTON IRVING.

1. I am fond of listening to the conversation of English gentlemen on rural concerns, and of noticing with what taste and discrimination, and what strong, unaffected interest, they will discuss topics, which, in other countries, are abandoned to mere woodmen, or rustic cultivators. I have heard a noble earl descant on park and forest scenery, with the science and feeling of a painter.

2. He dwelt on the shape and beauty of particular trees on his estate, with as much pride and technical precision, as though he had been discussing the merits of statues in his collection. I found that he had gone considerable distances to examine trees which were celebrated among rural amateurs; for it seems that trees, like horses, have their established points of excellence, and that there are some in England, which enjoy very extensive celebrity from being perfect in their kind.

3. There is something nobly simple and pure in such a taste. It argues, I think, a sweet and generous nature, to have this strong relish for the beauties of vegetation, and this friendship for the hardy and glorious sons of the forest. There is a grandeur of thought connected with this part of rural economy. It is, if I may be allowed the figure, the

heroic line of husbandry. It is worthy of liberal, and freeborn, and aspiring men.

4. He who plants an oak, looks forward to future ages, and plants for posterity. Nothing can be less selfish than this. He can not expect to sit in its shade, nor enjoy its shelter; but he exults in the idea, that the acorn which he has buried in the earth, will grow up into a lofty pile, and shall keep on flourishing, and increasing, and benefiting mankind, long after he shall have ceased to tread his paternal fields.

5. Indeed, it is the nature of such occupations, to lift the thoughts above mere worldliness. As the leaves of trees are said to absorb all noxious qualities of the air, and breathe forth a purer atmosphere, so it seems to me as if they drew from us all sordid and angry passions, and breathed forth peace and philanthropy.

6. There is a serene and settled majesty in woodland scenery, that enters into the soul, and dilates and elevates it, and fills it with noble inclinations. The ancient and hereditary groves, too, that embower this island, are most of them full of story. They are haunted by the recollections of the great spirits of past ages, who have sought for relaxation among them, from the tumult of arms, or the toils of state, or have wooed the muse beneath their shade.

7. It is becoming, then, for the high and generous spirits of an ancient nation, to cherish these sacred groves that surround their ancestral mansions, and to perpetuate them to their descendants. Brought up, as I have been, in republican habits and principles, I can feel nothing of the servile reverence for titled rank, merely because it is titled. But I trust I am neither churl nor bigot in my creed. I do see and feel how hereditary distinction, when it falls to the lot of a generous mind, may elevate that mind into true nobility.

8. It is one of the effects of hereditary rank, when it falls thus happily, that it multiplies the duties, and, as it were, extends the existence of the possessor. He does not feel himself a mere individual link in creation, responsible only for