The treasures of the deep are not so precious

As are the concealed comforts of a man

Lockd up in womans love. I scent the air

Of blessings, when I came but near the house,

What a delicious breath marriage sends forth--

The violet beds no sweeter!

MIDDLETON.

I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching, than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness, while threading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and support of her husband under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking ?rmness the bitterest blasts of adversity.

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