The Sun.
London, England, 1849-11-13 00:00:00

THE SUN,

ratter of the former. This conversation, which ap-
pears really the simple and natural discourse of two
girls, is one of many proofs that, whether or no
Currer Bell be a true appellation, " Shirley" is the
work of a woman's pen.
"' I often wonder, Shirley, whether roost men re-
semble my uncle in their domestic relations; whether
it is necessary to be new and unfrtmilior to• them, in
order to seam agreeable or estimable in their eyes ;
and whether it is impossible to their natures to retain
a constant interest and affection for those they see
every day.'
" I don't know : I can't clear up your doubts. I
ponder over similar ones myself sometimes. But, to
tell you a secret, if I were convinced that they aro
necessarily and universally different from us--fickle,
soon petrifying, unsympathizing I would never
marry. I should not like to find out that what I loved
did not love me, that it was weary of me, and that
whatever effort I might make to please would hereafter
be worse than useless, since it was inevitably in its
nature to change and become indifferent. 'Zilat dis-
covery once made, what should I long for ? To go
away—to remove from a presence where my society
gave no pleasure.'

- 66 6 But you could not, if you were married.'
" No, I could not—there it is. I could never be my
own mistress more. A terrible thought!—it suffocates
me! Nothing irks me like the idea of being a 'burden
and a born—an inevitable burden—a ceaseless bore !
Now, when I feel my company superfluous, I cart com-
fortably fold my independence round me like a mantle,
•

and drop my pride like a veil, and withdraw to solitude,
If married, that could not be.'
I wonder we don't all make up our minds to remain
_ _

single,' said Caroline : w© should. if we listened. to the
wisdom of experience. My uncle always speaks of
marriage as a burden; and I believe whenever he hears
of a man being married, he invariably regard; him as a
fool, or, at any rate, as doing a fooli.th
" ' But, Caroline, men are not all like your uncle :

surely not—l hope not.' •
" She paused and mused.
" I suppose we each find an exception in the one we

love, till ire are married,' suggested Caroline.
" 6 I suppose so: and this exception we believe to be
of sterling materials ; we fancy it like ourselves; we
imagine a sense of harmony. We think his voice gives
the softest, truest promise of a heart thqt will never
harden against us: we read in his eyes that faithful
feeling—affection. I don't think wo should trust to
what they call passion, at all, Caroline. I believe it is
a mere fire of dry sticks, blazing up and vanishing; but

we watch him, and sen him kind to animals, to little
children, to poor people. He is kind to us likewise—
good—considerate : he does not flatter women, but he
is patient with them, and ho seems to be easy in their
presence, and to find their company genial. He likes
them not only for vain and selfish reasons, but as we
like him—because we like him. Then we observe that
he is just—that he always speaks the truth—that he is
conscientious. We feel joy and peace when he comes
into a room: we feel sadness and trouble when he leaves
it. We know that this man has been a kind son, that
he is a kind brother: will any one dare to tell me that
he will not be a kind husband?'

" • My uncle would affirm it unhesitatingly.
be sick of you in a month," he would say.'
" Mrs. Pryor would seriously intimate the same.'

" Lie wi;

" 'Mrs. Yorke and Miss Man❑ would darkly singes