There are many accidents in life which may oblige the most fond and tender husband to be absent from his wife for a much longer time than either of them could wish; but then his reluctance at parting, the transports he expresses on returning to her arms, will keep her from feeling any uneasy emotions on account of his affection during their separation, and give a double relish to the joys his presence brings on their re-union.

            But all this may be feigned, some people will say: 'tis true it may, and I believe very often is so; but, supposing that to be the case, if the fallacy carries with it so near a resemblance to truth as not be distinguished from it, a wife thus happily deceived is no less contented than the reality would make her.

            Besides, the constraint a man must necessarily put upon himself in counterfeiting passions he is insensible of, is, at least, a proof that he has some consideration of the person for whose sake he does it; and that the continuance of her affection is of consequence to him, though it is not in his power perhaps to return it in an adequate proportion: this very dissimulation therefore in him, if by any accident she discovers it to be such, will, if I know anything of womankind, be partly justified by the motive; and as it gratifies her pride, though not her love, will more easily be forgiven than a haughty disregard or a total indifference.

            So that upon the whole, whether a man has a more or less degree of affection for his wife, it certainly is no fault in him to display it to the best advantage he can, to the end that if compelled to be separated from her for any length of time, he may leave her possessed of such tender ideas of him, as will effectually keep her from doing anything in his absence which he may have cause to complain of on his return.

            It behoves him, however, to confirm her belief of his affection, which is the most sure means of confirming her in the constant practice of her duty, to let few posts escape without writing to her, and to renew in his letters all those protestations of an inviolable fidelity which he made to her on taking leave.

            But I believe I need only appeal to the experience of my readers in this point. I dare say, that there are very few of them who are not convinced of the great efficacy of a tender well wrote letter. The ingenious Mr. Philip Massenger, in one of his poems, has a sentiment which I cannot help thinking extremely just as well as applicable to this subject. These are the words in which he expresses himself:

Letters from those we love make deeper stamp
Upon the mind, than if engraved on plates
Of brass, or adamant;—the indelible marks
No time erases, nor no rust consumes;
They're fixed for ever on the memory,
And death alone ——
Perhaps, not even death itself, obliterates.

            I would not here be understood that a man should put his invention to the stretch for florid speeches, far-fetched metaphors, and high-flown hyperboles in writing to his wife: no, it is not the business of a husband to show his wit and learning, but his love, in these epistles; and if what he says seems to proceed from the heart, it will carry with it more weight and energy than all the rhetoric the schools can teach.

            A letter of the sort I mean, from a gentleman to his wife, happened accidentally into my hands, and I think will be no unwelcome present to the public, as it appears to me to have in it that simplicity which is the surest mark of true affection.

To Mrs. ******

            Soul of my Soul,
            It is with a great deal of pleasure, because I know it will give some to you, that I acquaint you with my safe arrival at **** this day about eleven, after a journey which had nothing disagreeable in it but the reflection that every minute carried me still further from the best part of myself: my friends received me with a welcome which I have no cause to doubt the sincerity of; but the most pleasing part of it is the news that by my brother's care my affairs are put in such a forwardness that instead of two months being detained here, as I feared, I now flatter myself that in less than half that time I shall be able to set out again for London, yet even that seems an age. Oh! my love, it is but three days since I left you, yet am I impatient to return to you and the precious pledges of our mutual affection. Methinks I hear my little Charley cry "Mamma, when will my papa come home?" and my sweet Louisa, in her imperfect, and as yet but half formed accents, lisp out, "Where is dada?" I wish their innocent prattle, at which you used to smile, may not now make you sad; but let it not, I beseech you. I repeat the injunction I gave you at parting, that you will take care of yourself, and spare nothing that may contribute to cheer your spirits. This is all the proof I shall ever exact of your obedience as a wife. Farewell, thou dearest, thou everlasting treasure of my soul; my heart swells with a thousand tender things, but the post waits, and I have time to add no more, than that all here salute you with their best good wishes; and that I am, what I hope you want nothing to be convinced of,
            Dearest life,
            Your most affectionate
            And ever faithful husband,
            C . ******.

            The recesses of the heart can only be discovered by the all-seeing eye of Heaven; and I will not take upon me to determine whether this gentleman in reality felt all that fervency of passion he pretended for his wife; but this I may venture to say, that if his behaviour was in any measure conformable to his protestations, she had no reason to be dissatisfied.

End of the First Book

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