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devil; for there is an old proverb, "The devil is goodnatured when he is pleased."

Consid. But it is a difficult matter to say when she is pleased; for if her husband dares not contradict her, yet she supposes herself at all times at liberty to contradict him. It has oftentimes grieved me to hear how rude and snappish she is to him upon every turn, and yet she won't suffer any one else to scold him but herself. Once, on an occasion of this sort, he said, "My dear, I should not care if all the world scolded me, provided you did not scold me yourself."

Traf. I'll warrant she gave him a good sharp curtain lecture for that speech.

Consid. No doubt of it. But this is not all of poor Mr. Placid's misery. She is such a horrid tormentor of her servants, hunting and driving them about like a mad woman: if there are any servants he likes, she is sure to dislike them, and to drive them out of the house as fast as she can. She says, if women won't keep up their authority, it is their own fault.

Loveg. It is a terrible evil when poor servants are to have their lives made a burthen to themselves, by such tyrannic usage. It is to be lamented, that such masters and mistresses were not made to serve also under the hard hand of oppression. There is not only a deal of ungodly cruelty, but a considerable degree of cowardly meanness exemplified by the conduct of these petty tyrants. But while some matches about these parts have been terribly calamitous, others of them have been as singularly ridiculous.

Traf. I suppose, Sir, you allude to that strange match which took place the other day, between Miss Sally Chatterbox, and old Mr. Taciturnity.

Loveg. Oh! that was a strange business. They say, the sedate old man is so grave, that he will not speak, till he has been spoken to two or three times, while her tongue is never at rest.

Consid. It seems she is good tempered, but the greatest chatterer that ever lived; and runs on with such egregious stuff, (for people who talk much, frequently talk nonsense) that she often puts the poor old man to the blush.

Traf. I wonder how the quiet old gentleman can answer half her questions.

Consid. I am told, she does not ask so many questions, but keeps on with a straight-forward rattle; and the few questions she asks, the old man evades as well as he can. He hums and haws; and now and then cries, "Yes, my dear," and then, "No, my dear;" and then again, "I can't answer you, you speak so fast." And when his patience is nearly exhausted, he will cry, My dear, you talk so fast that it quite makes my head ache." And sometimes she has her old aunt with her, who not only comes with her long Canterbury tales, but with all the chit-chat gossip of the town, and then he is sure to be bothered* out of all patience between them both.

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Loveg. What is supposed to be the difference between their ages?

Consid. Why, Miss was about twenty-five, and the old gentleman above sixty-five; and it seems, this young lady is his third wife. He is a very good sort of an old gentleman, and has a considerable deal of money, while the young lady has little or none, only she had, as it is called, a very polite education at a boardingschool; where I suppose, she was taught to talk at this extraordinary rate. But did you never hear what a sad mistake took place, when the old gentleman was on a journey, about a fortnight after their marriage, with his new wife and his son by his first wife, to pay a visit to some distant friends?

Loveg. The story is quite new to me.

• Very correctly bothered, i. e. both-ear'd.

Consid. Sir, report says, that when they came to the inn where they were to rest for the evening, the old gentleman and his son retired to sleep, somewhat sooner than the bride, she being engaged to write some letters to her friends, on this happy event. When she called for the chambermaid, she unfortunately turned her into the chamber of the old gentleman's son. The young man, finding that a young woman was beginning to undress by his bed side, and not immediately recollecting her, cried out against her as an impudent strumpet, and told her to get out of the room, or he would kick her down stairs. Directly she made her escape, called for the chambermaid, told her what a mistake she had made, and asked where the other gentleman was gone to bed the maid answered, "Why, ma'am, there is no other strange gentleman gone to bed in this house, but your grand-papa."

Loveg. What blunders are produced by these imprudent matches! But how came Mrs. Liberal to put up with Mr. Scraper for her second husband?

Traf. By all accounts, there is sad quarrelling between them already. While she will always have her table covered with sufficient provision, that a plenty may be left in the pantry for occasional visitants, he will be hunting after bits and scraps, supposing that almost any thing will do to mess up for a dinner. And as about food, so he is about raiment. He would appear like an old broken tradesman out of a workhouse, with his tattered clothes and darned stockings, if his wife would let him; and when she only gave away some of his old clothes the other day, that had got into this trim, to a poor old neighbour, this so offended him, that he would. not speak to her for near a fortnight.

Loveg. Does not he want her to dress as shabbily as himself?

Consid. O yes, Sir; and he is always telling her

where the cheapest old remnants are to be bought; and that she leaves off her clothes too soon, when she might scour and dye them, and then turn them, and thus wear them over and over again.

Loveg. This must make sad jarrings between them ; what strange confusion is created in the world, by the contests which exist between the different corruptions of the human heart!

Consid. Yes; and when people are united who are under the influence of the same sort of corruptions the evil will be abundantly worse. What a terrible misfortune it was to Mr. Sharp and Miss Trimmer that ever they should make a match of it!

Traf. Ah! that poor girl was ruined from her childhood. Her foolish mother humoured her on every occasion and, though her temper was naturally bad, yet her mother has made it ten thousand times worse by puffing up the pride of her heart, in telling her she was a girl of fortune and yet at first they appeared fond of each other, though such love scarcely deserves the

name.

Consid. Whatever love them, 'tis all hatred now. contradict her upon every return, like a fury, calling him fool, puppy; and tells him he would have been a beggar if it had not been for her fortune; though his business, as a large vinegar merchant, is quite equal to the trifling sum he may have received with her.

might have been between While he tries to thwart, and

occasion, she flies at him in

Far. But I'll warrant she pays him home again, and gives him tit for tat. I remember she came once to our house, to see my daughter Polly, so dressed up in her furbelows and fal-lals, and I thought her tongue run desperate glib. I have a notion she is a sad saucy puss.

Consid. However, it seems that her husband can

"Hold your

match her in language and insolence. tongue, you insolent jade. Madam, I will be master;" and sometimes the house is all of an uproar between them. Of late it seems that she has been very jealous of him, and trims him well on that score.

Loveg. Oh! the terrible consequences of sin! What a variety of little hells are created in hearts, in families, and throughout all the world, by its horrid existence! Lord, what is man! who can deny the fall!

Consid. True, dear Sir, and I think there is another union in our town, which perfectly proves the same awful truth. It evidently appears to me, that it is almost as necessary to prove that a man is to die, as that he is a fallen creature.

Loveg. To what other matches do you refer?

Consid. O Sir! it was that unhappy union between Miss Jemima Meek and Mr. Lofty, who is a great man in his own esteem, because his great grand-mother, was the daughter of some lord, who lived in the reign of Charles the Second; and, on this account, though he is almost a beggar in his circumstances, he can strut about with such consequence!

Loveg. What silly thoughts can feed that carrion bird of pride, when roosted during the night time of our ignorance, in the unregenerate heart of man! But who is this Mr. Lofty?

Consid. He is the gingerbread baker, that lives in Pride Alley.

Loveg. Oh! that is the shop, I suppose, where Mrs. Considerate is so kind as to buy her fine golden kings, and queens as presents to my little children.

Consid. Yes, Sir, and while he is selling these fine golden things for a farthing a-piece, he is feeding upon the conceit of his ancient noble blood. Besides, he fancies himself a man of reading, and great knowledge.

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