Nor is health only ruined by debauchery and idle hours; it is equally neglected by the slaves of business, by men who toil more than their duty requires of them, either in the sun, at drill, or in heated and over crowded offices, in the vain hope of raising for themselves a name. The name they frequently acquire; it is generally coupled with some epithet of pity or contempt; and never or but very rarely do they obtain that promotion and increase of salary which, in Services where promotion is gained by seniority, not by merit, it is foolish in them to expect, but to which their own cases, they fondly hope, will prove the triumphant exception. Here the quick eye of the fond wife will soon detect the almost imperceptible inroads of disease; and she will, either by the charm of her society, allure her husband from over exertion, or, by her persuasions, induce him to moderate his zeal. She will remind him that he has other and equally important duties to perform in the great drama of life. She will not induce or wish him to be idle, but teach him that his exertions should be restained within due bounds; and that he who labours to the injury of his own health, by forcing the body beyond its power, is not only the destroyer of his own happiness and of those dependent upon him, but the defrauder of the Public. This was the secret which induced the Athenian Lawgivers to render it imperative that every public officer should be a married man; and did the Court of Directors but understand their real interests, as well as the Athenians did theirs, they might perhaps make it as imperative that their officers should, on entering into their service, be provided with a wife, as they now do, that he should have a silver spoon and fork.

Nor is it only the bodily health of men that is improved by marriage. What is of more importance, their minds are regulated, their ideas and manners become softened, and their souls are cared for. The two first propositions are, we believe, generally admitted to be the effect of marriages in England, and the steps by which they are produced need not therefore be traced by us. The inducements to increased exertions is the same in both countries; and in both is the effect of women upon men's manners the same. But in India is an enhanced regard for religion more particularly the fruit of marriage.

That women are in general more religiously disposed than men is an almost indisputable fact; and their being so is their greatest charm, their greatest attraction: for religion is the only real security for their virtue. That they should be so, is not to be wondered at, for they are by nature gentler and more retiring than men, and their nature is strengthened by the barriers

of their peculiar education. As married women, they are more intimately mixed up with those domestic trials and sorrows, which are naturally fitted to admonish them to "set their house. in order" and be ready; and this preparation is not the work of a day or of an hour, but of years, of a life. The necessity of such a preparation, were any thing more forcible wanting to impress it on their minds, is in this country perpetually recurring to them, owing to the many instances of sudden death which they almost daily hear of; and as their fond hearts are ever ready to encompass those whom they love with imaginary changes, they picture to themselves the possibility that their husbands may be summoned next, and they are naturally rendered anxious about their future state. They remember that there are but few clergymen in India, and these scattered far and wide,—and they devote themselves with all the energetic warmth of their natures to supply their place, and endeavour to rescue the beloved one of their hearts from the pit of destruction. Sometimes their exertions are repaid by indifference, but oftener by success; and it is seldom that a thoroughly irreligious married man is to be met with. That there are such men we do not deny; for to deny it would be to deny that men are mortals.

In England, marriage is oftentimes considered as a signal for the reunion of families separated from political motives, and is the source of reconcilement after petty domestic quarrels ; but in India it has become gradually and imperceptibly productive of greater benefits. In this country, where the English may be looked upon as a large family, there existed in bygone days a jealousy between the Civil and the Military servants of the Company-between, as it were, twin brothers. The Civilians were jealous of the honors earned and nobly earned by the Military, with the points of their bayonets, while the Military envied the salaries earned and honestly earned by the Civilians, with the points of their pens. In the seasons of war, the jealousy of the Civilians was paramount, in those of peace, the envy of the Military; and yet both were forgetful that each was slaving for the other-the Civilians, in collecting revenue—the Military, in securing the enjoyment of it to both.

By an unacknowledged arrangement each Service has, in the present day, obtained a share of the rewards of the other, the Civilians, by obtaining Cadetships for their sons in the Army, the Military, by procuring Writerships for their sons in the Civil Service; while the daughters of each have so intermarried with the sons of the other, that the honor and interests of

both Services have become identified. The jealousy of each was discreditable to both, and both must rejoice that it is now virtually at an end.

One other benefit occurs to us as a peculiar result of marriage in India, which we will mention, though it may excite a smile, and that is good station roads-the existence of which is of incalculable benefit both to the natives and the English. In Calcutta, the roads are kept in order chiefly for the purposes of traffic, but in the Mofussil principally for the accommodation of the English inhabitants; and, on entering a station, the practised eye will soon tell whether the Magistrate is a single or a married man. If the former, the station has generally a dirty and slovenly appearance; the roads are execrable and unrepaired the very unevenness of them making the glass and bottle rattle against each other in the palanqueen as it enters. Herds of oxen are to be seen strolling on and defiling the roads at every step; the hedge rows are covered with shreds of old clothes; and if near the Kacherry, paper is to be seen blown about in all directions; the fences of the young trees, planted by some former married magistrate, are broken down, and a straight sapling, devoid of leaves, alone meets the eyes, destined, when big enough, to become a riding stick. Crowds of naked children are to be seen playing at Punchisi in every gutter, while Fakirs, clothed in nature's garb, alone are roaming at their leisure in all directions.

If, on the contrary, the magistrate is a married man, the roads are excellent; not a jolt is to be felt; the hedge rows are trimmed carefully, and the cornices of the bridges are white. Trees, planted with the view of shelter, are springing up in every direction with an eager growth; and an air of neatness and order pervades the whole station, which clearly speaks of woman's presence and of woman's influence. The inhabitants appear neatly and decently dressed, and move about with a light and jaunty step. Gardens, teeming with fruits and flowers, meet the eye in every direction, and the air is loaded with sweetness. The very crows caw joyously among their nests in the trees; and the doves moan forth their simple loves, secure of sympathy in woman's heart.

Having thus furnished subjects for reflection, by briefly shadowing forth the advantages of marriage, as peculiar to India, we must revert to some of the disadvantages the separation of wife and husband, of parents and children. But as the causes and necessity of such separation were discussed in a former article, we shall, in this place, merely offer a few reflections on the subject. Let it, however, be borne in mind that we

are writing only of those women who are really compelled by ill health to separate themselves for a season from their husbands, and not of those who are disgusted with India or tired of their husbands, or who are anxious to roseate a complexion which many rupees' worth of the far-puffed Rowland's Kalydor has failed to restore. Such women, we trust, are rare. Happy would it be if they never existed, but in the imagination.

The separation of a husband and wife really attached to each other, in consequence of ill health, is the most painful subject for reflection that we know of. It is as it were the temporary death of each, but it is armed with bitterness that death has not. In death, all anxiety for the departed one is at an end; we know that he is at rest, and that no exertions of our own can in any way alter the doom that has been passed. And though we may wish that the decree of the Almighty might be reversed, we wish that which we cannot really hope for; we know that the dead shall never return, that the past shall never be recalled.

In the temporary separation we are considering, the moment of departure is the commencement of anxiety, and of conflicting emotions. We know that the separation must be for years, and yet dread that it may be for ever. We know that we cannot ward off the unforeseen evils which may beset each other's path, and yet fruitlessly feel that they may be averted by our own exertions. We know that absence must produce some change in us, and yet we hope that we shall remain unchanged. We long for our reunion, and yet remember that unavailing longings should never be indulged in. desires are not alone fixed upon the past, but look forward to the future, and we recollect that we have lost a possession which we hope to regain at some future time."

"Our

The pangs of separation are not perhaps so unendurable as they were in former days; the magical power of Steam has reduced distance, and enables us to receive letters from those we love with wonderful regularity. We are enabled thereby to render absence somewhat supportable, by mutually recalling to our recollection, with melancholy tenderness, the expressions of affection which have lately passed between us, and review again the many scenes, while fresh in our minds, which we have visited together. We can narrate and canvass the various transactions which are daily taking place around us, and fondly lay down plans of happiness for the future,-that future which perhaps we are destined never to arrive at. But these reflections ought not to make us melancholy or despondent; but should animate us to more than ordinary diligence and the exercise of virtue. We should live as if we were living in each other's

presence; and we should thereby learn to practise a degree of charity and forbearance to one another when we meet again, of which we may now perhaps imagine ourselves incapable.

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If there be any who, from the dread of separation, may be disposed to say, we will never marry, we will never indulge in the luxury of fondness," we would address to them the words of the Rambler;" an exact compliance with this rule might perhaps contribute to tranquillity, but surely it would never produce happiness. He that regards none so much as to be afraid of loving them, must live ever without the gentle pleasures of sympathy and confidence; he must feel no melting fondness, no warmth of benevolence, nor any of those honest joys which nature annexes to the power of pleasing. And as no man can justly claim more tenderness than he pays, he must forfeit his share in that officious and watchful kindness which love only can dictate, and those lenient endearments by which love only can soften life. He may justly be overlooked and neglected by such as have more warmth in their hearts; for who would be the friend of him, whom, with whatever assiduity he may be courted, and with whatever services obliged, his principles will not suffer to make equal returns, and who, when you have exhausted all the instances of good will, can only be prevailed not to be an enemy? If by excluding joy we could shut out grief, the scheme would deserve very serious attention; but since, however we may debar ourselves from happiness, misery will find its way at many inlets, we may surely endeavour to raise life above the middle point of apathy at one time, since it will necessarily sink below it at another."

The real antidote against the sorrow of separation is employment, for " sorrow is a kind of rust of the soul which every new idea contributes in its passage to scour away. It is the putrefaction of stagnant life, and is remedied by exercise and motion." The separation of parents from their children is as painful, (only of shorter duration), as that of husband and wife; nay more so, where, as is not unfrequently the case, the parents have no relations to watch over their offspring while in England. They are then consigned to the care of strangers; and when they meet again, they meet as aliens, and are mutually ignorant of each other's dispositions. But this subject was fully discussed in a former paper.

We would now wish to say a few words to such of our countrywomen as have lately arrived in India, and may have taken on themselves, or may be about to take on themselves, the duties of Matrimony. Were they in our presence, we would address them somewhat as follows: