We gain by their loss. And the void to us, 

 and we fear to them, is anything but an 

 " aching void." 



In society a Miss is, not to make a pun, 

 amiss. Your sixteens and seventeens are 

 always at sixes and sevens among the men. 

 They are so walled about by what is proper 

 and what is not proper, that they can do 

 nothing but sit bolt upright with their arms 

 folded. Their sitting, walking, riding, danc- 

 ing, talking, are all carefully graduated to the 

 proper. They start when you speak to them, 

 as a pigeon does when it sees a hawk, and take 

 hold of a man's arm as though he were made 

 of phosphorus ; and are bound to look silly, 

 and take refuge under mamma's wings, if the 

 air be tainted by the ghost of a possible 

 impropriety. In Spanish society, young 

 ladies are danced with, but never spoken to ; 

 but no more of them. But a widow as soon 

 as the becoming sorrow is over, which soon 

 takes place, is always gay, always 

 charming : — 



" Jeppo. — La princesse est veuve, Maffio. 

 Map. — On le voit bien a sa gaiete." 



In the first place, the widow sait vivre. She 

 knows how to talk to men and how to treat 

 them. In the second, she does what she 

 pleases, and Miss Scandal has to shriek, 

 " How improper !" in a whisper. In the 

 third place, she never grows old. A spinster 

 is on the wane at five-and-twenty, and at 

 forty, even Echo would be afraid to answer 

 her, for fear she should consider it an offer ; 

 but a widow at thirty is on the " wax," and 

 in her prime at forty ; at least so says the 

 song. We wonder that all women do not 

 wish they were born widows ; and that 

 failing, and the occasion presenting itself, 

 do not emulate the fifty Misses Danaus, in 

 the mythology, who in their haste to become 

 widows, stabbed their husbands on the 

 wedding night. 



The Rev. Dr. Sterne remarks, that " Hea- 

 ven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 

 Bereaved married people must be shorn 

 lambs. We have heard widowers, a fort- 

 night after the sad event, humming Gai! 

 Gai! deprofundis ! — and widows finding the 

 breeze of a most comfortable temperature, 

 and keeping up a cheerful liveman-loving 

 spirit behind their impenetrable black veils, 

 just as the sun shines as brightly as ever 

 behind the darkest thunder-cloud. 



The first tale is that of the Matron of 

 Ephesus, told with infinite spirit by La 

 Fontaine in his Contes. He took it from 

 Boccaccio. It is to be found in Petronius, 

 who had it from the G-reeks. They borrowed 

 it from the Arabians, who in their turn owe 

 it to the Chinese. Du Halde has it in his 

 version. The origin of most of our every- 



day stories, is as completely hidden in the 

 obscurity of by-gone ages as the name of 

 the inventor of the plough. Who, let Us 

 ask, was the father of jokes ? Was Joseph 

 Miller the Joseph who found favor in the 

 eyes of the facile Fatima ? or did Pharaoh 

 write facetiae ? 



Once upon a time there lived in Ephesus, 

 a lady renowned for her beauty and for her 

 wit, but most of all for her intense affection 

 for her husband. Mothers cited her as an 

 example to their daughters, and husbands 

 were for ever singing her praises to their 

 wives. In short, the town esteemed itself 

 lucky in possessing within its walls such a 

 model of virtue. But, alas ! the husband 

 died. Far from being consoled by a will full 

 of legacies in her favor, the widow abandoned 

 herself to the most distressing grief, and 

 sobbed and groaned so bitterly and so 

 loudly, that all the neighborhood was in 

 tears. Frantic with her loss, she resolved 

 to descend into the tomb with her husband, 

 and to die upon his body. A faithful maid- 

 servant accompanied her, after trying in 

 vain to bring back her mistress to the love 

 of life. She wished to feed her eyes to the 

 last upon the bier of the deceased, and this 

 was the only aliment she intended to allow 

 herself. One day passed in sighing and 

 weeping ; and her grief omitted nothing which 

 is necessary in such cases. 



Another dead body was lodged not far 

 from this tomb, but very differently. His 

 monument was a gallows, and himself his only 

 epitaph — a warning to all thieves ! A soldier 

 watched him night and day, and was threat- 

 ened with instant death if the body were 

 removed. During the night, the sentinel 

 perceived, to his great surprise, a light 

 flashing through the crevices of the tomb, 

 and stealing toward it, heard many soft oWs 

 and alas's. Entering, he was amazed to see 

 two pretty women in tears, and inquired 

 politely what motive could induce them to 

 inhabit so melancholy an abode ? The widow 

 did not of course deign to answer, but the ser- 

 vant explained to him that they had resolved 

 to starve themselves to death for love of the 

 deceased. The soldier explained as well as 

 he was able what life was, and asked leave 

 to take his supper in their presence, if they 

 would eat nothing themselves. They gave 

 him permission. Animated by the beauty 

 of the lady, and assisted by the maid, who 

 began to tire of starvation, he pleaded so 

 warmly and so well, that the dame consented 

 by degrees to forget her mort, and bestow 

 herself upon him. Just as they had ratified 

 the compact by a " chaste salute," under the 

 very nose of the defunct, he heard a noise 

 without, and rushing to his post, found the 

 body gone ! Overwhelmed with shame and 

 fear, he returned to the tomb, acquainted 



