The National Republican And Ohio Political Register

THE HONEY MOON

Journal kept by Mr. Samuel Snacks.

Monday, April 1. All fool's day.—Quite otherwise with me, who on this auspicious day, have done the only wise thing I ever did, viz. taken unto myself a wife. After the ceremony, the happy couple (Mrs. Snacks and myself) set off in a chaise and four, for Ramsgate. Journey delightful, but how could it be otherwise? Thought I never saw my Amanda look so divine; Canova's Venus seems modelled from her; the same deep languishing eye, the same clustering ringlets; the same snowy voluptuous bosom; the same,--Oh! what a lucky dog I am!

Tuesday, 2--Evening: overwhelmed by the tumult of my thoughts. Felt quite young again (by the by I am only 49 after all) and indited the following letter to my friend Tomkins of the temple.--'Dear Tom, burn your books and marry.--Marry immediately, my old boy. Nothing like matrimony; it is Paradise itself, pure, genuine and unsophisticated.'--Read my note to Amanda, imprinted on her soft cheek a husband's tenderest kiss, and sat down to a hot supper..

Wednesday, 3.--Indulged in a pensive stroll along the sea shore, mind filled with connubial ecstacy. Thought of Thomson's exquisite lines on domestic bliss, 'O happy they,'&c. I need scarcely add that my Amanda accompanied me in this ramble, with her ringlets waving like gossamer to the wind, and a smile of the most bewitching softness illuminating her celestial countenance. Enchanting girl! she wants nothing of an angel but the wings.

Thursday, 4. How genuine, how lasting is domestic bliss! Study has its advantages; but, compared with the ecstacies of Hymen, it is nothing, absolutely nothing. Middleton and Milton I remember, both speak with enthusiasm of wedded love. Gibbon frequently alludes to it as the most 'tender of human connexions.' Johnson says 'that there is no happiness without it, and indeed all authors who are good for anything, are loud in its praise. By the Roman law, however, a wife was expressly called 'a thing,' a part of the domestic furniture, which might be sold by her husband; so that, on making a catalogue of his goods, he might thus enumerate them:

Lot, No. 1. Four sofas, two tables, three pillow-cases, one wash-tub, a wife, and a bed candlestick. Only conceive a wife (my Amanda for instance) placed side by side with a wash-tub!

Friday, 5.--Of all jokes, the most absurd are those launched against women, and wives in particular. For this reason I am resolved, should my darling Amanda ever bless me with children, to prevent them learning the Eton Latin Grammar, from its observing in one of the rules of syntax, that 'the masculine gender is more worthy than the feminine,' &c. Monstrous violation both of grammar and gratitude!

Sunday, 14.--Continued rain. What a bore is a wet Sunday in the country.--Amanda, by the by, said, pleasantly enough, that wet weather might at least be expected in a watering place.--Attended morning church, and inquired of a fat clerk whether there was any evening service. Lunched by way of amusement.--Looked out of the window, and busied myself in counting the eave-drops. Thought of my books in Lincoln's Inn. Untied my shoes in order to tie them up again.--Picked my best breeches to pieces, for one must do something

Mem. It seems a long time for dinner.

Monday.--Drove over to Margate--Amanda dressed in the extreme of fashion, and full, as usual, of vivacity. Walked together on the fort. Met one Captain Dermount O'Dorherty, a long Irishman of Ballyshannon, and a former suitor of my wife (till he found she had nothing.) Fortunately introduced to him, and shaken on the spot by a hand as hard as a deal board.

Mem.--Amanda seems much taken with him--but this of course, for the fellow is full of cravat and compliment, and stands six foot high, but about three broad.--Can't say I like his looks.

Tuesday, 16--Received a visit from the long Irishman. Offered Amanda and myself tickets for the Margate Assembly. Kicked her under the table as a hint to decline them. No use, one might as well kick a post. Fellow stayed a full hour, during which Mrs. Snacks never ceased talking. A pert sly giggling--but what can you expect from a woman: And yet notwithstanding, Solomon, in his Proverbs, has the assurance to say, 'whoso findeth a wife, findeth a good thing.'--Can't say I think so.

Wednesday, 17.--I had a tiff with Mrs. Snacks about the long Irishman. In return she called me jealous; shows how little she knows of human nature. How can I be jealous of such an uncouth, raw-boned disjointed jackanapes? Called him so before her face, and got nicknamed an 'old
frump' in reply.

Mem.--That's all one get's for one's good nature--'old frump' indeed! Think of that now. I should not mind her calling me a 'frump,' but 'old!' besides 'tis no such thing. I shall not be fifty till next Michaelmas day. Went to bed in a rage, and dreamed of the long Irishman.

Thursday. 18.--Walked out before breakfast and met the long Irishman. I detest swearing; but, d--n him, what does he mean by it! Dined at 3 o'clock, and helped twice to cheese by way of something to do. Went half price to the theatre, and at the corner of the stage box hobbled against the long Irishman. Mrs. Snacks smiled on him. I think at least she did; nay I'll swear she did--I'll take my oath she did--by Heaven she did!--conceive what a jack-ass I must have looked like.

Friday. 19.--Felt exceeding awkward about the temples, and dreamed that Mrs. Snacks, like Diana, had turned me into a stag. Received three letters of congratulation on my marriage. Lounged at Liddell's library, and met on my return the long Irishman in earnest conversation with Mrs. Samuel Snacks. How could Mrs. Snacks imagine it was possible to be jealous of such a wretch! Had a quarrel with her about him (not that I think him worth quarreling about) and rushed in a rage to the theatre.

Mem.--I forgot to mention that Mrs. Snacks went with me.

Saturday, 20.--Another quarrel. Astonishing Mrs. Snacks can't keep her temper. Threatened to throw the best sugar basin at my head. What a vixen! But it's no use, I see clearly how it is; I'm a wretch for life. Received a letter of condolence from Tomkins. Replied, by return as follows:--'Dear Tom--If you have not already married, avoid it like the devil; hanging is a mere joke to it.'

English paper.