Litchfield enquirer., 1841-06-03

1 U our duty to our Maker, to our neighbor, and to ourselves. So mote it be.
 | MATRIMONIAL ADVENTURE. The Knickerbocker for April contains much agreeable matter, a sample of which we subjoin. It is an anecdote of Governor Wentworth, the last of the Colonial Cover nors of New.Hampshire, and is still related by the aged people of the neighborhood in which he lived.-N. Y. Post.
 He had, it seems, married very pretty little girl, some thirty years his junior, who, like most young wives, was fond of gayety, and liked better to pass the evening in stroll ling through the woods by moonlight, or in dancing at some merry. making, than in the arms of her gray haired husband. Never. theless, although she kept late hours, she was in every other respect an exemplary wife. The governor, who was quiet, sober parsonage, and careful of his health, prefer. red going to bed early, and rising before the sun, to inhale the cool breeze of the morn- ing; and as the lady seldom came home till past midnight, he was not very well pleased at being disturbed by her late hours. At length, after repeated congratulations, his pa. tience was completely exhausted, and he frankly told her that he could bear it no lon. ger, and that if she did not return home in future before twelve o'clock, she should not be admitted to the house.
 The lady laughed at her spouse, as pretty ladies are wont to do in such cases; and on the very next occasion of a merry making, she did not return till till past two in the morning. The governor heard the carriage drive 10 the door, and the ponderous clang for admittance; but he did not stir. The la- dy then bade her servant try the windows; but this the governor had foreseen; they were all secured. Determined not to be out generalled, she alighted from the carriage. sent it through the window into the very chamber of her good man. This answered her purpose. Presently night-capped head peered from the window. and demanded the cause of the disturbance. Let me into the house, sir !! sharply demanded the wife, The governor was immoveable, and very un- gallantly declared she should remain with out all night. The fair culprit coaxed, en- was all in vain. At length, becoming fran tic at his iml erturable obstinacy, she declar- ed that unless she were admitted at once, she would throw herself into the lake, and he might console hirlself with tho reflection that he was the cause of her death. The governor begged she would do so, if it would afford her any pleasure, and shutting the window, he retired again to bed.
 The governess now instructed her ser wants to run swiftly to the water, as if in pursuit of her, and to throw large stone over the bank, screaming as if in terror, at at the moment of doing it, while she would remain concealed behind tho door. The good governor, notwithstanding all his decis- ion and nonchalance, was not quite at ease when he heard his wife express his determi- Ahne aff Vp. ! ly, he heard the rush to the water side-ihe approximations of the servants-the plunge, and the screams-and knowing his wife to be very rash, in her moments of vexatlon, and really loving her most tenderly, he no | longer doubted the reality. "Good God IS it possible !" said he; and springing from his bed, he ran to the door with nothing about him save his robe de nut, and crying out "save her, you rascals !-leap in and save your mistress !'' made for the lake. In the mean time his wife hastened indoors locked and made all fast, and shortly after appeared at the window, from which her husband had addressed her. The governor discovered the ruse, but it was too late; and he became in his turn the expostulator. II was all in vain. however; the fair lady bade him a pleasant good night, and shutting the window, retired to bed, leaving the little man 10 shift for himself as best he might, until morning. Whether the governor forgave his fair lady, tradition docs not say; but | is reasonable to presume that he never again interfered with the hours she might choose to keep.
 l LADIES' SLIPPERS AND THE GRAVE !-Ihe Philadelphia North American, not too sol emnly and with great truth, thus moraiiZes l A summer bird that has fingered late into the autumn, leaving its timid foot print il the first fall of snow, ever reminds us o that delicate fair one, in light thin slippers on cold icy pavement. The bird, howev Ter. can escape to a warmer cline, and IT the spring it can re-appear; but the lady h
 on that journey from which there IS no re- turn. The music of the bird may agaii
 gladden. its native tree, but her voice VII not again cheer the hearth of her home.- The badges of sorrow and the slowly re- turning hcarse will tell what that slipper has done. It has taken from us ln inc bloom of life one that we loved, but Wht would not listen to the voice of adnonitioh Her bright days are now passed the iign Inf her countenance has fed, and the nIgh of inc grave curtains the deep couch ot he' reposc. But q voice speaks tcnderly iron
 that grave to those whom she has left be hind: 1t whispers the admonition which sh' Idisregarded. Shall that whisper not D' Fheard! IL is a sisters voice that pleads.