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Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country-scaf!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book;
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town.
O charming noons! and nights divine!
Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My friends above, my folks below,
Chatting and laughing all-a-row,
The beans and bacon set before 'em,
The grace-cup serv'd with all decorum :
Each willing to be pleas'd and please,
And even the very dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things,
How this or that Italian sings,
A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's,
Or what's in either of the houses
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier or the wiser,
A man of merit or a miser?
Whether we ought to choose our friends,
For their own worth, or our own ends?
What good, or better, we may call,
And what, the very best of all?

Our friend Dan Prior told (you know)
A tale extremely "à propos:"
Name a town life, and in a trice
He had a story of two mice.
Once on a time (so runs the fable)
A country mouse right hospitable,
Receiv'd a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer might a lord.
A frugal mouse upon the whole,
Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul,
Knew what was handsome, and would do't,
On just occasion, "coûte qui coûte."
He brought him bacon (nothing lean);
Pudding, that might have pleas'd a dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He eat himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his breeding and his wit;
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cry'd, "I vow you're mighty neat.
But lord, my friend, this savage scene!
For God's sake, come, and live with men :

Consider mice, like men, must die, Both small and great, both you and I : Then spend your life in joy and sport, (This doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court.")

The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, God knows, to strong temptation.

Away they came, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-Inn:
("Twas on the night of a debate,
When all their lordships had sat late).

Behold the place, where, if a poet Shin'd in description, he might show it. Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls, And tips with silver all the walls; Palladian walls, Venetian doors, Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors: But let it (in a word) be said, The moon was up, and men abed, The napkin 's white, the carpet red : The guests withdrawn, had left the treat, And down the mice sat, " tête-à-tête.”

Our courtier walks from dish to dish, Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish ; Tells all their names, lays down the law, Que ça est bon ! Ah, goûtez ça !

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That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing,
Pray dip your whiskers and your tail
in."

Was ever such a happy swain?
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
"I'm quite asham'd-'tis mighty rude
To eat so much-but all's so good.
I have a thousand thanks to give-
My lord alone knows how to live."
No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all :

"A rat, a rat! clap to the door"The cat comes bouncing on the floor. O for the heart of Homer's mice, Or Gods to save them in a trice! (It was by providence they think, For your damn'd stucco has no chink). "An't please your honour, quoth the peasant,

This same dessert is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread and liberty!

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[Ir may appear singular that we should turn to 'Reports of Cases argued and determined in the Consistory Court of London,' to select a passage from one of The Best Authors.' Yet, in all the attributes of strong sense, of deep insight into character, and in force and elegance of style, there are few compositions more remarkable than some of the judgments of Sir William Scott, afterwards Lord Stowell. The following extracts are from his judg ment in the case of divorce, instituted by Mrs. Evans against her husband, upon an allega tion of cruelty. We take only those passages which are of general application.

William Scott was the brother of John Scott, the more celebrated Lord Eldon. He was born near Newcastle in 1745; was educated at the Grammar School of Newcastle, and at Corpus Christi College, Oxford; became a Master of the Faculty of Advocates in 1780; was made Judge of the High Court of Adniralty in 1798; and was raised to the Peerage in 1821. He died in 1836.]

This cause has been carefully instructed with evidence by the practisers who have had the conduct of it; and has been very claborately argued by the counsel on both sides. It now devolves upon me to pronounce the legal result of the evidence which has been thus collected, and of the arguments raised upon that evidence—a duty heavy in itself, from the quantity and the weight of the matter; and extremely painful, from the nature and tendency of a great part of it, and from the inefficacy of this court to give relief adequate to the wishes of both parties. Heavy and painful as it is, it is a duty which must be discharged; and which can only be discharged with satisfaction under a consciousness, that it is discharged with attention and impartiality, and under the reflection, that if, after the endeavours which I have used in cleansing and instructing my own conscience upon the subject, I should have taken what may be deemed an undue impression of the case, the laws of this country have not been deficient in providing a mode by which the parties may be relieved against the infirmities of my judgment.

The humanity of the court has been loudly and repeatedly invoked.

Humanity

is the second virtue of courts, but undoubtedly the first is justice. If it were a question of humanity simply, and of humanity which confined its views merely to the happiness of the present parties, it would be a question easily decided upon first impressions. Everybody must feel a wish to sever those who wish to live separate from each other, who cannot live together with any degree of harmony, and consequently with any degree of happiness; but my situation does not allow me to indulge the feelings, much less the first feelings, of an individual. The law has said that married persons shall not be legally separated upon the mere disinclination of one or both to cohabit together. The disinclination must be founded upon reasons which the law approves, and it is my duty to see whether those reasons exist in the present case.

To vindicate the policy of the law is no necessary part of the office of a judge; but if it were, it would not be difficult to show that the law in this respect has acted with its usual wisdom and humanity, with that true wisdom, and that real humanity, that regards the general interests of mankind. For though in particular cases the repugnance of the law to dissolve the obligations of matrimonial cohabitation may operate with great severity upon individuals, yet it must be carefully remembered that the general happiness of the married life is secured by its indissolubility. When people understand that they must live together, except for a very few reasons known to the law, they learn to soften by mutual accommodation that yoke which they know they cannot shake off; they become good husbands, and good wives, from the necessity of remaining husbands and wives; for necessity is a powerful master in teaching the duties which it imposes. If it were once under

stood that upon mutual disgust married persons might be legally separated, many couples, who now pass through the world with mutual comfort, with attention to their common offspring and to the moral order of civil society, might have been at this moment living in a state of mutual unkindness-in a state of estrangement from their common offspring-and in a state of the most licentious and unreserved immorality. In this case, as in many others, the happiness of some individuals must be sacrificed to the greater and more general good.

That the duty of cohabitation is released by the cruelty of one of the parties is admitted, but the question occurs, What is cruelty? In the present case it is hardly necessary for me to define it; because the facts here complained of are such as fall within the most restricted definition of cruelty; they affect not only the comfort, but they affect the health, and even the life cf the party. I shall, therefore, decline the task of laying down a direct definition. This, however, must be understood, that it is the duty of courts, and consequently the inclination of courts, to keep the rule extremely strict. The causes must be grave and weighty, and such as show an absolute impossibility that the duties of the married life can be discharged. In a state of personal dauger no duties can be discharged; for the duty of self-preservation must take place before the duties of marriage, which are secondary both in commencement and in obligation; but what falls short of this is with great caution to be admitted. The rule of "per quod consortium amittitur” is but an inadequate test; for it still remains to be inquired, what conduct ought to produce that effect? whether the consortium is reasonably lost and whether the party quitting has not too hastily abandoned the consortium ?

Mere

What merely wounds the mental feelings is in few cases to be admitted, where they are not accompanied with bodily injury, either actual or menaced. austerity of temper, petulance of manners, rudeness of language, a want of civil attention and accommodation, even occasional sallies of passion, if they do not threaten bodily harm, do not amount to legal cruelty: they are high moral offences in the marriage-state undoubtedly, not innocent surely in any state of life, but still they are not that cruelty against which the law can relieve. Under such misconduct of either of the parties, for it may exist on the one side as well as on the other, the suffering party must bear in some degree the consequences of an injudicious connection; must subdue by decent resistance or by prudent conciliation; and if this cannot be done, both must suffer in silence. And if it be complained that by this inactivity of the courts much injustice may be suffered, and much misery produced, the answer is, that courts of justice do not pretend to furnish cures for all the miseries of human life. They redress or punish gross violations of duty, but they go no farther; they cannot make men virtuous, and, as the happiness of the world depends upon its virtue, there may be much unhappiness in it which human laws cannot undertake to remove.

Still less is it cruelty, where it wounds not the natural feelings, but the acquired feelings arising from particular rank and situation; for the court has no scale of sensibilities by which it can gauge the quantum of injury done and felt; and therefore, though the court will not absolutely exclude considerations of that sort, where they are stated merely as matter of aggravation, yet they cannot constitute cruelty where it would not otherwise have existed of course, the denial of little indulgences and particular accommodations, which the delicacy of the world is apt to number amongst its necessaries, is not cruelty. It may, to be sure, be a harsh thing to refuse the use of a carriage, or the use of a servant; it may in many cases be extremely unhandsome, extremely disgraceful to the character of the husband; but the ecclesiastical court does not look to such matters: the great ends of marriage may very well be carried on without them; and if people will quarrel about such

matters, and which they certainly may do in many cases with a great deal of acrimony, and sometimes with much reason, they yet must decide such matters as well as they can in their own domestic forum.

These are negative descriptions of cruelty; they show only what is not cruelty, and are yet perhaps the safest definitions which can be given under the infinite variety of possible cases that may come before the court. But if it were at all necessary to lay down an affirmative rule, I take it that the rule cited by Dr. Bever from Clarke, and the other books of practice, is a good general outline of the canon law, the law of this country, upon this subject. In the older cases of this sort, which I have had an opportunity of looking into, I have observed that the danger of life, limb, or health, is usually inserted as the ground upon which the court has proceeded to a separation. This doctrine has been repeatedly applied by the court in the cases that have been cited. The court has never been driven off this ground. It has been always jealous of the inconvenience of departing from it, and I have heard no one case cited, in which the court has granted a divorce without proof given of a reasonable apprehension of bodily hurt. I say an apprehension, because assuredly the court is not to wait till the hurt is actually done; but the apprehension must be reasonable: it must not be an apprehension arising merely from an exquisite and diseased sensibility of mind. Petty vexations applied to such a constitution of mind may certainly in time wear out the animal machine, but still they are not cases of legal relief; people must relieve themselves as well as they can by prudent resistance-by calling in the succours of religion and the consolation of friends; but the aid of courts is not to be resorted to in such cases with any effect.

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The truth of the case, according to the impression which the whole of it makes upon my mind, is this:-Two persons marry together; both of good moral characters, but with something of warmth and sensibility in each of their tempers; the husband is occasionally inattentive; the wife has a vivacity that sometimes offends and sometimes is offended; something like unkindness is produced, and is then easily inflamed; the lady broods over petty resentments, which are anxiously fed by the busy whispers of humble confidantes; her complaints, aggravated by their reports, are carried to her relations, and meet perhaps with a facility of reception, from their honest, but well-intentioned, minds. A state of mutual irritation increases; something like incivility is continually practising; and, where it is not practised, it is continually suspected; every word, every act, every look, has a meaning attached to it; it becomes a contest of spirit, in form, between two persons eager to take, and not absolutely backward to give, mutual offence; at last the husband breaks up the family connection, and breaks it up with circumstances sufficiently expressive of disgust: treaties are attempted, and they miscarry, as they might be expected to do, in the hands of persons strongly disaffected towards cach other; and then, for the very first time, as Dr. Arnold has observed, a suit of cruelty is thought of; a libel is given in, black with criminating matter; recrimination comes from the other side; accusations rain heavy and thick on all sides, till all is involved in gloom, and the parties lose total sight of each other's real character, and of the truth of every one fact which is involved in the cause.

Out of this state of darkness and error it will not be easy for them to find their way. It were much to be wished that they could find it back again to domestic peace and happiness. Mr. Evans has received a complete vindication of his character. Standing upon that ground, I trust he will act prudently and generously; for generosity is prudence in such circumstances. He will do well to remember, that the person he contends with is one over whom victory is painful; that she is one to whom he is bound by every tie that can fasten the heart of one human being

to another; she is the partner of his bed !-the mother of his offspring! And, if mistakes have been committed, and grievous mistakes have been committed, most certainly, in this suit, she is still that person whose mistakes he is bound to cover, not only from his own notice, but, as far as he can, from that of every other person in the world.

Mrs. Evans has likewise something to forget; mistakes have been made to her disadvantage too in this business: she, I say, has something to forget. And I hope she has not to learn that the dignity of a wife cannot be violated by submission to a husband.

319.-WINTER WALK AT NOON.

THE night was winter in his roughest mood;
The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon,
Upon the southern side of the slant hills,

And where the woods fence off the northern blast,
The season smiles, resigning all its rage,

And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue
Without a cloud, and white without a speck
The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Again the harmony comes o'er the vale,

And through the trees I view the embattled tower,
Whence all the music. I again perceive
The soothing influence of the wafted strains,
And settle in soft musings as I tread

The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms,
Whose outspread branches overarch the glade.
The roof, though moveable through all its length
As the wind sways it, has yet well sufficed,
And, intercepting in their silent fall

The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me.
No noise is here, or none that hinders thought.

The redbreast warbles still, but is content

With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd:

Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light

From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice,

That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below.

Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft,
Charms more than silence. Meditation here

May think down hours to moments. Here the heart
May give a useful lesson to the head,

And learning wiser grow without his books.
Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells
In heads replete with thoughts of other men,
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass,
The mere materials with which wisdom builds,
Till smooth'd and squared and fitted to its place,
Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much,

COWPER.

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