the bitter cup which they had been preparing for themselveseach for the other-and each for self-by precipitation on one part, and deception on the other.

Spiffard still continued sitting, as if unconscious of the departure of the young lady or the old; or as if he had no part to play in the matrimonial scene. In truth he was at a loss how to begin.

Before he had arrived at the theatre of action, he thought he had resolved to tell his wife how evil tongues spoke of her ;and to question her bluntly; but now, that she was before him, he had not the heart to do it. In truth, his nature was such that he would not willingly inflict pain upon any human being, and much less upon one who loved him. We say he would not willingly, that is, when reason was unclouded by passion. But it had become necessary that their marriage should be announced—that his wife's name; that the words 'Mrs. Spiffard' should be in the play-bills. It had been at his request that the union had been kept private, meaning to announce it at the end of the theatrical season. The secrecy had originated in a fear, which he did not avow to himself, of the ridicule of these same young gentlemen, who had now, by commencing an attack upon him, forced him to avow his blissful state. And what reason should he give for the change of plan and opinion?

Spiffard was a lover of truth; a declaimer against disguise : he had deviated from the path of rectitude in concealing his marriage; he had acted under the influence of self-delusion, and contrary to sober conviction, in contracting it he was punished by the consequences naturally flowing from the fault.

Mrs. Spiffard had resumed her uneasy seat, and sat looking at the livid countenance of her husband, and feeling that sickness of the heart which the consciousness of hidden acts, and the fear of detection, causes. At length, impatient of a suspense which became more dreadful each moment, and tortured by imaginings more harrowing than any reality, she started from her chair, and arousing all that whirlwind of passion which a bad education, and evil example from childhood, had made her own, and, as it were, engrafted upon her better nature, (and a display of which had never been made before her present husband, or even her cousin Emma,) she folded her beautiful arms, and with a step which is called theatrical, but which is the true indication of lofty feeling or great excitement, and belongs to the nature of passion, she walked the room, bending on her lord as threatening a look as ever Lady Mac beth bestowed upon her wavering would-be-king when he

hesitated to do that which he wished done; letting "I dare not wait upon I would, like the poor cat i'the adage." At length she ceased her walk, and stood before him; and, after a pause, assuming a tone of irony, she said, "I thought you had something of high import to propose, Mr. Spiffard !”

"Please to sit down, madam," said Zeb, who had been roused by his wife's tone and attitude; "please to be seated," and he led her to her chair. She resumed her seat with a scornful toss of the head. He slowly drew his chair near,

and placed himself beside her.

"It has become necessary, Mrs. Spiffard, that our marriage

should be announced."

A weight was lifted from the lady's bosom--she breathed freer-and replied, "the concealment was a plan of your own, Mr. Spiffard."

"It was, madam, and like all concealments, was foolish if not criminal, and rewarded accordingly."

Mrs. Spiffard felt the blood rush to her cheeks and forehead -again she breathed hard, as she said, "What has changed your view of the subject ?—I mean-what--?”?

Our hero felt unequal to the task of telling the truth, although thus questioned. He shrunk from inflicting pain on one who had committed her welfare to his keeping. He took refuge in a second concealment, while reprobating the first. This is weakness, but not uncommon. He hesitated, and then said, "concealment looks like fear of shame--or consciousness of wrong."

"The concealment was in compliance with your wish," replied his wife; but in a tone faltering and subdued.

66

My intention was, as I then stated to you, that your name should remain unaltered in the bills until the end of your present engagement; when we would leave town, and announce our marriage at the time. But circumstances-impertinent--in short, it is best to tell the truth openly—and meet—” he hesitated.

Mrs. Spiffard again had been pale; now, the blood rushed "Meet what, sir?"

to her face and neck.

"The consequences."

"The consequences !" she repeated. "The consequences !" "At least," he continued, “when it is known that you are my wife, I shall not hear-or-if I do—I shall have a right to resent as insults to myself" again he hesitated.

The haughty spirit of the unfortunate woman had been aroused. She had begun the conversation in a strain of high

feeling, and a tone of offended pride, and assumed superiority; but conscience now asserted its rights. We mean, by conscience, the memory of past transactions, which reason pronounces to be wrong. And the inward inquiry of, "What has he heard?" overpowered her.

at

"It is the misfortune of our profession-its curselength, she said, "that the idle, the mischievous, and the malignant, feel at liberty to suggest any ill, or frame any report to our detriment, and the world is ready to credit any story that may be fabricated to the disadvantage of an actress."

"It is too true.

"I do defy, sir!"

But you can defy— ?”

Short as had been the time between this quailing of her lofty spirit and the last question, she had rallied the energies of her character, so far, at least, as to act the offended innocent, but it was in a style of unnatural exaggeration; which, although not satisfactory to her husband, gave an excuse and opportunity for self-delusion; and he resolved to believe, where it was so much his interest that the belief should be well founded. Much of the belief of this credulous world has the same species of foundation.

All the native kindly disposition of the water-drinker returned-or rather burst forth from the cloud which had obscured it -and taking his wife's hand, he said, "I have been urged to uneasiness, irritation, anxious thought, and almost to unjust suspicions, by the foolish babble of two or three gentlemen, who no doubt knew, by some means, of our marriage, and took this mode of punishing me for the concealment. They perhaps, for the moment, think themselves justifiable; though I cannot see how the term quiz or hoax can justify falsehood of any description. Truth is too sacred to be jested with; and its violation, in any shape, is a blot upon the character of man or woman; it is a fault that ought to be punished by the contempt of the world, as well as by self-disapprobation. I will immediately announce our marriage. I wronged both you and myself in the wish for a moment's concealment. Your name shall appear as Mrs. Spiffard in the next bills of the theatre. This will prevent any more hoaxing; and I hope you will forgive me for allowing the jests of these thoughtless young men to have a momentary effect upon me."

Mrs. Spiffard burst into tears. She was moved by conflicting thoughts; and, though tears were a relief, there was a portion of bitterness mingled in the stream from the overflowing cup of conscience.

The husband spoke soothingly.

"Come, come, no more

of this-I am going out for a short time-when I come back let me see that this cloud has left no trace behind it."

"Oh, God! oh, God! what a wretch am I !" exclaimed his wife, as soon as left alone.

Having thus introduced our readers (in that abrupt manner recommended by critics, and long practised by story-tellers in prose and verse,) to some of the prominent personages of our history, we will now go to the beginning, and, soberly and regularly, give an account of the birth, parentage, and education of Zebediah Spiffard; and perhaps show that he is of noble descent, and might bear heraldric honours on his coach, if he had one-that is as it may be.

We will speak of the water-drinker, showing how he passed through the states or stages of life-of a barefooted Green Mountain boy-a Boston lawyer's clerk-and a travelling yankee gentleman, to the stage, on which we found him, of the New-York Theatre. But in all this it will be our pleasant duty, more especially, to account for that morbid sensibility, which was woven into his very essence, on the subject of ebriety; that dread which he entertained of the effects of any approach to a habit of intemperance-a dread, which, with the species of fascination that every victim to the habit exerted over him, formed the basis of his character.

CHAPTER V.

Beginning of a Town-and a Man.

"For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern."-Shakspeare.

"Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm,

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm:

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,

That hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey."-Gray.

GENTLE and courteous reader, or rather readers, (for like Legion, ye are many that shall read these memoirs ;) fair readers for the life of Zebediah Spiffard will be read by every

female that can read, (and all read in this our happy land ;) this book will be sought after by the fair sex, inasmuch as it treats of the gay and the grave-the good and bad-of ladies, and of those who, next to soldiers, are the delight of ladies; we mean players; those lively, happy, delightful children of the mimic world, who present to the minds of youth a picture of enchanting power, ever varying and ever bright. Kind readers, of both sexes, we sit down determined to write for your amusement, (far be it from us to attempt to instruct you,) a faithful narrative of adventures appertaining to the romance of real life, from the perusal of which you shall undoubtedly rise as tired in mind and body, owing to excessive excitement and long continued gratification, as ever you did from the representation of a play, or even of an Italian opera. But as we have promised to begin at the beginning, we must hasten to commence our story.

Zebediah Spiffard was born in the month of October, of the year 1786, in an obscure but very pleasant village, appertaining to the truly democratic state of Vermont. His father had been one of the first settlers, a pioneer, and the village, in accordance with self-complacency, which makes so great an item in the account of human happiness, was called "Spiffard Town."

Squire Spiffard, our hero's father, made the first clearing in the valley of Long-pond, where he arrived with all his worldly possessions, (an axe, a yoke of oxen, a wagon, and a wife,) before a tree had been "felled;" and where he, in a few years, saw a thriving village, the fruit of his enterprising industry, spread from his dwelling and surround him; the inhabitants of which were grateful to the man who had led them to the wilderness, pointing their way to a land flowing with milk and honey.

His first shelter, a log hut, now (that is, at this second beginning of our history, and the first beginning of the life of our hero in 1786,) appertained, or was appended to the neat and spacious white mansion that sheltered his numerous offspring, and served as a wash-house, having previously served as a kitchen, when the present kitchen was the mansion-house.

Such is the progress of a settler in the wilderness, and it is but a few years since Vermont was such. The log hut is at first "parlour, kitchen, and hall;" then is erected the log house, larger, better furnished, and more comfortably plastered with clay; then the hut becomes the kitchen, and shortly after, (a saw-mill having been erected on a neighbouring stream,) the framed and planked mansion arises, the house becomes, in its turn, the kitchen, while the original germ, the hut, is degraded to a wash-house or pig-sty.