e on the continent has had a sad effect upon
the young men; they have been ruined by light wines and French
quadrilles. "They've nothing," he says, "of the spirit of the old
service. There are none of your six-bottle men left, that were the
souls of a mess dinner, and used to play the very deuce among the
women."

As to a bachelor, the general affirms that he is a free and easy man,
with no baggage to take care of but his portmanteau; but a married
man, with his wife hanging on his arm, always puts him in mind of a
chamber candlestick, with its extinguisher hitched to it. I should hot
mind all this, if it were merely confined to the general; but I fear
he will be the ruin of my friend, Master Simon, who already begins to
echo his heresies, and to talk in the style of a gentleman that has
seen life, and lived upon the town. Indeed, the general seems to have
taken Master Simon in hand, and talks of showing him the lions when he
comes to town, and of introducing him to a knot of choice spirits at
the Mulligatawney club; which, I understand, is composed of old
nabobs, officers in the Company's employ, and other "men of Ind," that
have seen service in the East, and returned home burnt out with curry,
and touched with the liver complaint. They have their regular club,
where they eat Mulligatawney soup, smoke the hookah, talk about Tippoo
Saib, Seringapatam, and tiger-hunting; and are tediously agreeable in
each other's company.

WIVES.

Believe me, man, there is no greater blisse
Than is the quiet joy of loving wife;
Which whoso wants, half of himselfe doth misse.
Friend without change, playfellow without strife,
Food without fulnesse, counsaile without pride,
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.

--SIR P. SIDNEY.

There is so much talk about matrimony going on around me, in
consequence of the approaching event for which we are assembled at the
Hall, that I confess I find my thoughts singularly exercised on the
subject. Indeed, all the bachelors of the establishment seem to be
passing through a kind of fiery ordeal; for Lady Lillycraft is one of
those tender, romance-read dames of the old school, whose mind is
filled with flames and darts, and who breathe nothing but constancy
and wedlock. She is for ever immersed in the concerns of the heart;
and, to use a poetical phrase, is perfectly surrounded by "the purple
light of love." The very general seems to feel the influence of this
sentiment