Behold, how fair of eye, and mild of mien,
Walks forth of marriage yonder gentle queen:
What chaste sobriety whene’er she speaks,
What glad content sits smiling on her cheeks,
What plans of goodness in that bosom glow,
What prudent care is throned upon her brow,
What tender truth in all she does or says,
What pleasantness and peace in all her ways!
For ever blooming on that cheerful face
Home’s best affections grow divine in grace;
Her eyes are ray’d with love, serene and bright;
Charity wreathes her lips with smiles of light;
Her kindly voice hath music in its notes;
And heav’n’s own atmosphere around her floats!

Thus, wife-like, for better or worse, is the above portrait charmant consigned to the dingy digits of an unidistinguishing printer’s-devil; so doth Caesar’s dust come to stop a bung-hole. One morsel more, about children, blessed children, and for this bout I shall have tilted sufficiently in the Muses’ court; or, if it must be so said, unhandsome critic, stilted to satiety in false heroics: stay not false; judge me, my heart. Suppose then an imaginary parent thus to speak about his