serious and persevering labour. Only think of the horrors of a house
without a queen--Yawning servants, negligent housekeepers, extorting
tradespeople,--these and a thousand other annoyances, for which you
have no relief, because you cannot stoop to meddle or make in such
transactions--are the agitations which perpetually infest the domestic
commonwealth of a bachelor.--But turn your eyes into the house of
'Benedick, the married man'--He wears his rue with a difference,
indeed!--There is a sense of life, bustle, mirth, and happiness, in
the very air of the dwelling. To be greeted with smiles at your going
forth and coming in--to know that there is at least one who serves you
without a self-interest--to hear the joyous, feminine laugh, delicate
and temperate in the very whirlwind of its ecstacy, ring through the
mansion from hour to hour--to hear the little foot pattering about you
as you sit at your philosophic studies--to have a friend with whom you
can converse freely and without fear of present offence or future
disadvantage--and whose presence is not without its influence and its
charm, even when the call of a worldly ambition summons you to--
"----Pursue
Your tasks, in social silence too,"
with just sense enough to understand all you can say to her--and
nothing so wise as to mortify you at any time by setting you right.
Then, instead of the natty primness of your bachelor's apartment, you
have your eyes feasted by that elegant confusion of the little
sanctuary--the charm of which cannot, unseen, be apprehended, and is
only known to those who are privileged to enter, by the passport of
Hymen. A bit of bobbin here--a thread-paper there--here a hat
feather--there a scrap of silk.--Besides," [drawing his chair closer
to mine and looking very tender] "when you love her, you know--." He
paused and sighed, and I groaned strenuously.--