Note that gentleman and lady opposite. He is her husband. Having seen his wife in dishabille the morning after his wedding, and meeting her upon his return home at noon arrayed for public inspection, it is currently reported, he found her so much improved and beautified that he mistook her for a stranger, and absolutely asked her of the whereabout of his spouse. Nature has been exceedingly kind after all. If it has ordained that youth should fade, it has generously furnished the material whereby a century can be made to assume the appearance of a score. What matters it that old Father Cyprian thought all change the work of satan, and pronounced it running counter to the will of God to paint or black the hair, because he had read, “Thou canst not make one hair white or black?” Who cares for the declaration of Tertullian, that “it is the devil that mounts the actors on their buskins, in order to make Jesus Christ a liar, who has said, that no one can add one cubit to his stature?” They were both wofully mistaken, and our ladies have most triumphantly refuted their errors, by silently exhibiting that a hundred Tophets could not supply imps enough to make half the changes and additions which they daily parade before our eyes. It is marvellous, reflected Peter, what artificial charms can be conjured up by those who properly understand the art of beauty; and why should they fret and complain against fate, when, with paint, powder, and cotton, they are constantly proving that their troublesome deficiencies were simply meant as so many kindnesses, by leaving them at liberty to manufacture whatever hue and dimensions that might best please their fancies? The young lady and gentleman who have just passed by, seem to have arrested your attention. They are intimate acquaintances, and it is conjectured they will be something more in due time. You heard her indignant remark upon the dissoluteness of that young man yonder, a distant and ill-starred connexion of hers, and her emphatic wish for an edict providing for the decapitation of all such reckless creatures. Her creed, my dear sir, if impartially carried into effect, would scarcely permit a head to remain solidly upon the shoulders of a single citizen in the country; and her companion, though he does share her virtuous affections, would be one of the first to despair for his own. If shrewder and more cunning, he certainly is no better than the individual who has elicited her censure, though she knows it not. Her ignorance is blissful, however deceptive. Should some superhuman agency, thought Peter, suddenly reveal the truthful characters of Cupid’s followers, how many confiding maidens would be startled at having admired the most knavish deceivers, and how many foolish swains would stand aghast with horror at the dishonest treachery of their lady-loves!