epistles, however, was opened by me: I tossed them into the fire, on their receipt, concluding they could not be the offspring of genuine, ardent love, as it is always prompt in its motions.

Well, I at length got to the most important part of the business-that of reading the letters, and deciding as to the claims of their respective authors. Oh how my heart palpitated as I sat down to the task! I commenced. Though the inditers of all professed a boundless attachment to me, there were great diversities in their contents. The first epistle I read, augured very ill indeed. The writer made sundry inquiries about my finances, my prospects in life, the rank of my relations, &c., which I assuredly did not like. I consigned her letter at once to the fire. The second epistle revealed a candidate for matrimonial bliss, who spoke a great deal touching the propriety, necessity indeed, of being regularly asked in church before marriage; and of having, in the event of making a "bargain," a respectable wedding. Bargain! I hated the word: it imported something too sordid for me. The third lady ran quite to the

opposite extreme.

She proposed an instantane

ous elopement, lest her brother should hear of the matter, and by that means prevent the marriage. Elopement! Brother! How the words grated on my ears! I had already—the reader will not yet have forgotten poor Lavinia and the inn-I had already had a great deal too much of brothers and elopements, to run my head into anything so foolish again. This letter, as well as the second, followed the first epistle up the chimney in a volume of smoke. It would be endless, and would, besides, answer no good purpose, to specify the objectionable matter I discovered in every intervening letter, until I came to number twenty-four. It was just the thing. Its contents were as much to my mind, as if I myself had guided the pen of the lovely writer. I put it to all of my readers who are aspirants after connubial felicity, whether they also would not have been charmed by it. Here it is :

:

“MY DEAR SIR,-Though as yet personally unknown to you, I hope I am justified (I am sure my own feelings justify me) in using the

above affectionate phrase. I have read your intimation in the Herald' of this morning; and never, I assure you, has human composition made such an impression on my mind: it went directly to my heart, from which I know it will never depart. My dearest unknown, but, I trust, destined husband, believe me when I say, that your advertisement has led me to conceive of you as the beau ideal of all that a lover or husband should be. Words cannot express my admiration of your generosity and disinterestedness. It betrays no sordid feeling. You speak not, you give not the most distant hint of a love of money. How unlike the infinite majority of those who advertise for wives! But, though money seems to be no object with you, I hope it will prove no objection-other matters being to your mind. I have a handsome competency solely at my own disposal; indeed, I have no near relatives in Europe to interfere, either directly or indirectly, with me or mine. As it is moral worth and not sordid pelf of which you are in quest, my fortune shall be the more readily laid at your feet. Of my personal appearance

I will not speak, farther than to express a hope, that it is not disagreeable. My age, not being matter of opinion but fact, I may mention is thirty. I am morally certain, from the spirit that manifestly prompted your advertisement, that our dispositions are similar; and that, as far as human eye can see, our union if it be effected, which I hope and pray it may, will prove one of unusual happiness to both. May I, my dear Sir, have the felicity of an interview? If vouchsafed to me, be so kind as to write to me immediately, when I will appoint such time and place for our meeting, as will be most likely to secure us against the intrusion of any third party. Waiting with intense anxiety your an

swer,

I remain, my dear Sir,

Yours most affectionately,

C. D.

"P.S.-Please direct C. D., 27, Paul's Street, Fitzroy Square."

I was who in my situation would not have been?-in raptures with this letter. It was just the thing; there was intellect in it; there was

judgment in it; there was affection in it. There was something else in it; between you and me, respected reader, there was money in it. It is needless to say I liked it none the worse on that account. Philosophers may reason, and divines may declaim as much as they please respecting the vanity and worthlessness of money, I must take the liberty of differing from them. Abstractly speaking, I admit the circulating medium is despicable enough; but though this be true, and though, I hope, I am the last man in the world that would do any dishonourable action to gain money, yet it is not to be denied that it is a remarkably useful commodity. It is a necessary evil; it smoothes the rugged path of life: it enables a man to walk the public thoroughfares more consequentially; to hold his head more erect in society than he could otherwise do; in a word, money works miracles.

Shall I open and peruse any more of the mountain of epistles lying before me in beautiful chaos? I asked myself this question. I hesitated a moment as to whether or not I ought to open more of the A. B. letters. It is certain,