A friend whose business calls him frequently to the West, tells us that he was at one time an inmate of Mr. Blackstone’s family for some weeks—that on one occasion the whole town had been wrapt in admiration at one of his magnificent addresses in the court-house—it was a speech which if it had been the only one of any man’s life would have insured enviable fame. Our informant, roused from the deep absorption which the speech produced, hastened at its close to the dwelling of Mr. B., that he might sit and enjoy the rich effect which the language and tone had produced upon his mind. Mrs. B. was in the parlor, and he informed her of the unexampled efforts and success of her husband. She merely remarked that she had heard him speak often before their marriage but never since. Of course, a lady was not going to laud her husband; she was modest. Later in the evening, the visiter was sitting in the library, when Mr. B. entered that portion of the house. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He knew that he had done great things, and he desired, as all men do, to have his wife share in the pleasure—nay, to double the pleasure to him by her kind, affectionate, partial commendation of his labors, and hearty rejoicings at his success. “It was, Cornelia,” said he, “one of my most fortunate hits, and when I summed up the testimony and presented the cause of the injured widow, there was not a dry eye in the court-room; and the gallery was crowded with ladies. Mrs. Campbell sat in front, listening with the most marked attention—” “Did she—what dress did Mrs. Campbell wear?” “Dress—but——” It was ever thus. Whatever effort Blackstone made—whatever applause abroad followed his exertions, there was an entire want of sympathy at home. Not that Mrs. B. was without high mental powers, not that those powers lacked cultivation; but she had no knowledge of what a public man expects of his home, no comprehension of the great fact, that no out-of-door applause, no huzza of the multitude, no approval of even a judicious public is complete in its effect upon the recipient, unless sanctioned and sealed by the council at home—a council the head and chief of which is the wife, but which includes every member of the domestic circle. Distinguished men are not candidates alone for _applause_. They receive the censure, the vituperation, and persecution sometimes of those whose views they may oppose. Whose good they can no longer promote—for whom they have done the ninety-nine good acts but failed in their attempt at the hundredth—and that failure cancels all obligations for former success; how prospective is public gratitude!