e believing wife. But if gross sins be added to a want
of religious faith, I contend that no woman is justified in forming this
connection. Should she detect such traits and practices in her lover, on
the eve of their marriage, she is bound to dismiss him. God will provide
a lamb, if we come boldly to the altar, and keep not back our dearest
affection.

Some females have consented to bestow their hand, without a gift of the
heart, upon one who importuned them by ceaseless addresses. They did not
love, nor could they, where consent to marriage was yielded with such
reluctance. Perhaps some considerable aversion to the union was
expressed, but it was at length abandoned, as they thought, from
necessity. "I am fated," such an one will say, "to marry a person I
cannot love, and so it must be." We have known many instances, in which
it was paradoxically asserted, that the lady "married a certain
gentleman to get rid of him."

The sentiment of compassion, has a large share in some of these cases. A
suitor relates his troubles again and again; his happiness will he
forever blighted; he shall even sicken and die, if rejected. Desdemona
listens to the story:

"'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;
She wished she had not heard it."

But alas, from pitying, the steps are few to "embracing." To relieve
such sufferings, a lady resigns her every prospect of peace and comfort.

How many, indeed, after once rejecting a suitor, are moved by his
renewed entreaties, to sacrifice themselves, merely to assuage his
flowing tears. They think it a duty, it may be, to forego every hope of
happiness, to fly in the face of certain evil and woe, rather than see
one so pained by a refusal.

Benevolence deserves commendation in all cases. Yet not always is it the
result of sound judgment, or the demand of duty to marry one, because
importuned to that step. He, who waits at your feet and implores
acceptance, might not be so miserable after all, as he and you imagine,
should you decline his overtures. In the cares of a busy world, he may
find a draught of the waters of Lethe. His affections,--if it be a pure
and deep love that impels him, and not insanity or mental
intoxication,--may be turned into other channels, and the remnant of his
life prove, after all, an endurable evil. He may be directed to a
companion, who will render his lot far more agreeable than it could be,
had you, with the feelings under which you separated, been his w