There is a possibility for a woman, though endowed with a thousand virtues, a thousand perfections, to fail giving all the satisfaction she wishes to her husband, if nature has unhappily rendered her deficient in one particular quality of the mind to actuate her behaviour.

            She may be chaste,—temperate,—discreet,—a lover of home,—a good economist,—an affectionate wife,—a careful mother: in fine, may perform all the duties of her station with the utmost exactness; yet if what she does be not accompanied with cheerfulness, she will deprive herself of half the praises she deserves; and the man she would make happy, of the pleasure she might otherwise be capable of affording him.

            The famous Mrs. Behn, who it must be owned was no mean judge of what is agreeable to the humour of mankind, in enumerating the qualifications which constitute a woman born to give delight, places cheerfulness among the principal. These are her words upon that head:

Cheerful as birds that welcome in the morn.

            Another author also, of a much later date, and at least of equal reputation, gives this description of it:

Cheerfulness is the soul of every other charm, without it conversation is languid, wine tasteless, beauty insipid, and even wit itself spiritless.

            The poets and painters, both ancient and modern, have always expressed so high an idea of cheerfulness, that Venus, Cupid, the Graces, and every emblematical figure, or hieroglyphic of love and beauty, in all their pictures and picturesque descriptions, had their faces constantly adorned with smiles.

            But to quit the sublime, and descend to the more plain and familiar way of reasoning; it is certain, that a gracious manner, which indeed is no other than cheerfulness, either in discharging a duty, or conferring an obligation, greatly adds to the merit of both: but, alas! all have not this happy talent in their power, though their hearts may be equally good, and their intentions perfectly sincere.

            Much therefore is that woman to be pitied, whose true value is disgraced by her having the misfortune of a contracted brow; few, like Barsianus, choose the iron chest; an outside glare is apt to take the eye, and the affections of the mind pursue it.

            When this is not a defect in nature I think it possible to be rectified, as I take the outward indications of a cheerful disposition to consist chiefly in the eyes and the tone of voice, neither of which there is a possibility of changing; but when it proceeds from an ill habit, or a narrow and gloomy education, care and a constant application may do much.

            But I am sorry to say that the pride of virtue in some women destroys their affability, conscious of having done their duty in the greater points, they think it beneath them to study or put in practice those little douceurs, and nameless tendernesses, which are in fact of the most consequence to endear them to their husbands; and in this case, whatever they want by nature they will never supply by art.

            The husband of such a wife will be apt to look on her best actions as merely owing to the respect she has for her own character, rather than to any love she has for him; and in this opinion he will think of her with indifference, and treat her with no more than a cold civility.

            Cheerfulness, on the contrary, as it testifies she takes a pleasure in obliging him, will also make him take a pleasure in receiving every mark of kindness she bestows; and this alone can make the happiness of a wedded life complete; without it, nor wealth, nor grandeur can give perfect joy; with it, the humble villager is blessed; and it is indeed among these latter that a sincere cheerfulness is chiefly to be found. Mr. Cowley doubtless thought so when he described the pleasures of a rural life, in which fine poem there are some lines very proper for the observation of every wife, and I shall therefore insert for the benefit of those who may not happen to have read them:

Here if a chaste and clean, though homely wife,
Crown the rich blessings of a husband's life;
Who makes her children and her house her care,
And joyfully the work of life does share;
Nor thinks herself too noble, nor too fine,
To pen the sheepfold, or to milk the kine:
Who waits at door against her husband come
From rural duties, late and wearied, home,
Where she receives him with a kind embrace,
A cheerful fire, and a more cheerful face,
And fills the bowl up to her homely lord,
And with domestic plenty loads the board:
Not all the lustful shellfish of the sea,
Dressed by the wanton hand of luxury;
Nor ortalans, nor godwits, nor the rest
Of costly names, that glorify a feast,
Are at a prince's table better cheer,
Than lamb and kid, lettuce, and olives here.

            Thus does this great poet make a cheerful temper the source of all contentment; let not the best wife satisfy herself with being a rough diamond, but let a modest gaiety polish and brighten all she does; let a perpetual cheerfulness dance in her eyes and dimple on her cheeks, and no reserve, no austerity, no sullenness, ever gain admittance within the circle of the conjugal hoop.

            End of the SECOND BOOK.

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