public, in the hands of those who have professed themselves its advocates. We are willing to allow exception in the instance of any good-natured old bachelor-uncle, who atones for his sins against the sex, by a generous bequest, at his demise, of his hoarded gold, to a regiment of blooming and loving nephews and nieces; this, indeed, seems to us the best use to which such an unfortunate oddity in humanity could be assigned. Such cases, however, are comparatively of rare occurrence. Such gentry are generally more inclined to think of themselves and nobody else;" and if they should be surprised by some sudden "shock of fate," and find that a portion of their treasured spoil should survive them, they are generally governed by some strange moral obliquity in its disposal, and thus divert its use from the just claims of their own " kith and kin." But as it is not our wish to incur the charge of dealing out undeserved censure, and lest our testimony as to the inutility of crusty and crabbed, old bachelors, in the social compact, should be questioned, we snbjoin the phillippic of a certain spinster, whose sentiments on the subject were doubtless as well founded as they are unequivocal. Here they are:

"Old Bachelors are hateful things,
And ought to be despised;
With hearts like broken fiddle-strings,
And just as little prized.

"Untuned to love's soft thrilling touch,
No pleasures do they know;
They feel not, and they taste not much
Of happiness below.

"The joys of wedlock, which they spurn,
With all its numerous cares-
E'en for one year, should love's lamp burn,
Are worth an age of their's.

"Were all like them, the human race
Would soon be swept away;
And even earth to their disgrace,
Would tumble to decay.

"The social bond-that bond so sweet,
Where hearts and souls unite-
Where friendship, love, and union meet,
Would sink in endless night.

"But 'tis in vain for me to prate,
I cannot make them clever;
Old Bachelors I always hate,
And must and shall forever."

Whichever way we look at the matter under discussion, we are compelled to the same judgment. If, as a question of conventional expediency, it admits of no apology, for celibacy, if tolerated to any great extent, would speedily reduce the all-but Eden bliss of social life to a weary desolation; or, if we view it simply in its relations to the opposite sex, the result will be found to be no less fatal to its advocates, in addition to which, it involves the exhibition of a moral defection of character utterly inconsistent with the dignity of the boasted "lords of creation." And lastly, had not this union of the sexes been a wise, beneficent, fitting and necessary institute of our being, would nature herself have so strikingly indicated it? Says an ingenious writer : "There is an admirable partition of qualities between the sexes, which the Author of our being has distributed to eacii, with a wisdom that challenges our unbounded admiration.

Man is strong-woman is beautiful.

Man is daring and confident-woman is diffident and unassuming.

Man is great in action-woman in suffering.

Man shines abroad-woman at home.

Man talks to convince-woman to persuade and please.
Man has a rugged heart-woman a soft and tender one.

Man prevents misery-woman relieves it.

Man has science-woman taste.

Man has judgment-woman sensibility.

Man is a being of justice-woman an angel of mercy."

"Poor

If it is right to visit with our reprehension the voluntary old bachelor, we ought perhaps to extend our pity towards any who may happen to be excluded from the privilege of connubial happiness by the force of adverse circumstances; albeit we incline to the opinion that few such instances exist. How any man invested with the sensibilities and susceptibilities of humanity could be found proof against the fascinations and bewiching charms of an amiable woman-and all the sex may be said primarily to possess in common such attributes-it is as difficult to imagine, as to suppose him capable of reconciling himself to the deprivation of those exquisite and placid pleasures which encircle the domestic relation. Is not such a hapless wight, therefore, a fit object of our commiseration and pity? He is an exile alike, from the solacing sweets of the gentle beings whose radiant smile would dissipate his sorrows, and enhance his purest pleasures, as well as from the alluring delights of a hallowed home. fellow! he returns to his lodging; there may be everything he can desire, in the shape of mere external comforts, provided for him by the official zeal of his housekeeper; but still the room has an air of chilling vacancy; the very atmosphere of the apartment has a dim, uninhabited appearance-the chairs, set round with provoking neatness, look reproachfully useless and unoccupied, and the tables and other furniture shine with impertinent and futile brightness. All is dreary and repelling. Nogentle face to welcome his arrival; no loving hand meets his; no kind looks answer the listless gaze he throws round the apartment as he enters. He sits to a book-alone; there is no one by his side, to enjoy with him the favorite passage, the apt remark, the just criticism; no eyes in which to read his own feelings; his own tastes are unappreciated and unreflected; he has no resource but himself, no one to look up to but himself; all his enjoyments, all his happiness, must emanate from himself. He flings down the volume in despair; buries his face in his hands, and sings aloud-O! me miserum." The panacea of all a poor forlorn bachelor's infelicities is to be found in "a help-meet" -a wife.

"Yes, 'tis to lovely woman given

To soothe our griefs, our cares allay;
To heal the heart by anguish riven-
Change earth into an embryo heaven,

And chase life's rankling cares away."

Few topics have been made so fruitful a theme of badinage and sarcasm by the wits of all ages, as that of the marriage union. If the old bache

lor is said to become bearish in his single selfishness, a man of the opposite class during courtship is thought to exhibit a strong resemblance to a goose, and when this incipient stage is exchanged for the estate matrimonial, he is honored with the epithet, sheepish. Some have indulged their vein of irony in verse, a curious specimen of which we subjoin; it evinces as much ingenuity as wit, for it admits of being read two ways which convey a directly opposite sentiment. We transcribe it according to what we consider its true meaning; but in order to make it tell the reverse, it will be necessary to alternate the lines, reading the first and third, then the second and fourth.

chains,

"That man must lead a happy life
Who is directed by a wife;
Who's freed from matrimonial
Is sure to suffer for his pains.
Adam could find no solid peace
Till he beheld a woman's face;
When Eve was given for a mate
Adam was in a happy state.
In all the female race appear
Truth, darling of a heart sincere;
Hypocrisy, deceit and pride
In woman never did reside.
What tongue is able to unfold
The worth in woman we behold?
The failings that in woman dwell
Are almost imperceptible.
Shame on the ungrateful men, I say,
Who no regard to women pay,
Who changes from his singleness,
Is sure of perfect blessedness."

We are not about to inflict upon the patient reader an heroic defence of woman's claims, they are pretty generally understood and appreciated, for after all, the "sweet affinities" of the sexes prevail in all lands-with the savage as well as the civilized-the poor no less than the affluent; so that indeed it seems to our second thought very much like a task of supererogation to repudiate the comparatively few exceptions to the Yule. A capital joke is told of a certain divine, who flourished somewhere down east, and who seems to have studied human nature to some purpose, referring to the magnetic influence of the sex. It should be premised, however, that his own matrimonial relations were supposed to have been not of the most felicitous kind, which may account for the pungency of his remark. One Sabbath, reading the parable of the supper, in Luke xiv., coming to the passage, " and another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and, I go to prove them, I pray thee to have me excused; and another said, I have married a wife and therefore I cannot come, "-suddenly paused, drew off his spectacles, and looking round upon his hearers, said with emphasis, -the fact is, brethren, one woman can draw a man further from the kingdom of heaven than five yoke of oxen! A good and true woman, however, will be much more likely to draw him onward in the path of present and future happiness. Without female society, it has been aptly said, the beginning of men's lives would be helpless, the middle joyless and desolate, and the close comfortless and cheerless. Willis says, love women a little for what we do know of them, and a great deal for what we do not;" this corresponds with the definition we once saw in a

we

slang dictionary, in which, under the name woman, was put as expository of its import the significant term-mystery! Still, though it is not to be denied, that women not only impart the glad sunshine of life, in all its phases, yet they are also, it will readily be admitted, in more senses than one, dear delights. Perhaps the best etymological definition of the name woman that has been given, is the following:

"When Eve brought woe to all mankind,
Old Adam cal ed her wo-man;
But when she wooed with love so kind,
He then pronounced her woo-man:
But now with folly and with pride
Their husband's pockets trimming,
The ladies are so full of whims

That people call them whim-men."

But it is time we took leave of our refractory friends; and having indulged the liberty of indicating some of their prominent peculiarities and peccadilloes, we feel inclined to venture, in conclusion, a little piece of sage advice, which is, that they seek, with all possible despatch, to atone for past remissness by avowing their loyalty to the sex; and by annihilating all further differences, reduce the number of the disaffected, in the prompt surrender of heart and hand, to the victims of their selfishness, a fitting tribute upon the hymeneal altar.

SELECT LIBRARY OF THE GERMAN CLASSICS. [Copyright secured.]

THE HERMAN AND DOROTHEA OF GOETHE,

ERATO.

DOROTHEA.

(CONTINUED.)

Joyful heard the Youth the free resolve of the Maiden,
Doubtful whether now the truth to her to discover;
But to him seem'd best yet awhile to leave her in error,
Into his house to lead her, and not till then of his love speak.
And he spied too, alas! the golden ring on her finger.
So he checkt her not, but eagerly listen'd her converse.

"And let us now," she said, " go back to our friends! for the maidens

Ever incur reproof who tarry long at the draw-well;

Yet by the gushing source to tell our story is pleasant."
And so up they rose, and once more into the well lookt
Both, ere away they turn'd, and longing rose in their bosoms.

Silent then the Maid the pitchers took by the handles,
Upward trod the steps, and Herman follow'd the lov'd one.
Fain he the burthen had shared, and one of the vessels had taken;
"Leave it thus," she said; "so balanced easier carried,
Nor let him serve me, whom I must obey as a master.
Look at me not so gravely, as though my lot were a sad one!
Woman should learn betimes to serve, for that is her office;

'Tis by obeying alone she comes to rule, and attains to
Merited sway and gentle command which is hers in the household.
Still in the outset of life the sister yields to the brother,
Yields to her parents; and still her life is a Going and Coming,
Fetching and Carrying still, and Making and Mending for others.
Well for her, when so she is wont that no way is too rugged,
That the hours of the night to her as the hours of the day are,
That the work never seems too nice, too cunning the needle,
That she forgets herself, and lives in those who are near her!
For, in truth, as a mother she needs all virtue and patience,
Oft in her weakness roused by the nursling asking refreshment,
From her suffering form; her cares thus sharpen her sorrows.
Ne'er could a score of the stronger sex endure such a burthen,
Nor is it theirs to endure; yet should they gratefully view it."

Thus spake she; and came, with her mute companion, winding On by a garden path, to the ample door of the shed, where Lay the new-made Mother, rejoicing there with her daughters, Damsels by her preserved, in youth's fair purity blooming. Into the space stept both; and from the opposite quarter Came, with a child in either hand, the Judge of the people. Until now these two had been lost to the sorrowing mother, But that ancient man in the throng of the people had found them. Forth they joyful sprang, to cling to the mother they loved, And their brother, a playmate new, to handle and gaze on. Then Dorothea they saw, and springing eagerly held her, Asking for bread and for fruit, but most of all for the water. So she gave them to drink all round. First drank it the children, Drank the sick woman then, with her daughters; then did the Judge drink. All were slak'd and refresht, and prais'd the excellent water, Sweet and sharp to the taste, a wholesome draught to the thirsty.

Then spoke forth the maid, and with look right serious, thus said: "Friends, 'tis the last time now, that I your lips with my pitcher Moisten, and give to your thirst the grateful gush of the water. But when in future time, refresht from the dust and the hot day, Still in the shade you enjoy the cooling draught and the quiet, Think then kindly of me, and of my office of friendship, Giv'n you of love far more than because of kindred that binds us. Good that to me ye have done, through life shall I gratefully think on. And full sad is my heart that I leave you; but here as we wander, Each is to each more burthen than help; and we in the end must All amid strangers disperse, if speedy return is denied us. See, here stands the good Youth, who deserves our thanks for his bounty, Garments that warm the poor child, and welcome food that ye tasted. Hither he comes, and sues that I to his home should betake me, And that I there should serve his wealthy and virtuous parents. And I refuse not the proffer; for still is the maiden a servant; And an incumbrance were I, did I seek attendance of others. And so willingly go I with him; right-minded the Youth seems, And right-minded the Parents will be, as should be the wealthy. Wherefore now farewell, you, much-lov'd friend! and rejoice in