the purgatory of the school-room, and the paradise of an eligible offer:
'The horizon's fair deceit,
Where earth and heaven but seem, alas! to meet.'
I do not feel my spirits equal to dwelling on the wretchedness of an unappropriated débutante, that last stage of maiden misery; but suppose our aspirant safely settled in some park in the country, or some square in town—Hymen's bark fairly launched—but
'Are the roses still fresh by the bright Bendemeer?'
A woman never thoroughly knows her dependence till she is married. I pass also the jealousies, the quarrels, the disgusts, that make the catholic questions and corn-bills of married life—and only dwell on one particular: some irresistible hat, some adorable cap, some exquisite robe, has rather elongated your milliner's list of inevitables—I always think the husband's answer greatly resembles the judge's response to the criminal, who urged he must live,—'I do not see the necessity.' Is not this just the reply for a husband when the fair defaulter urges she must dress? How will he ejaculate, 'I do not see the necessity.' Truly, when my
