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he inadvertently go abroad and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is always on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately enters in triumph with buckets, brooms, and brushes; takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers to rights-to his utter confusion, and sometimes serious detriment. For instance,

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A gentleman was sued by the executors of a trades. man, on a charge found against him in the deceased's books, to the amount of 30. The defendant was strongly impressed with an idea that he had discharg ed the debt and taken a receipt but as the trans. action was of long standing, he knew not where to find the receipt. The suit went on in course, and the time approached when judgment would be obtain. ed against him. He then sat seriously down to examine a large bundle of old papers, which he had untied and displayed on a table for that purpose. In the midst of his search, he was suddenly called away on business of importance; he forgot to lock the door of his room. The housemaid, who had been long looking out for such an opportunity, immediately entered with the usual implements, and with. great alacrity fell to cleaning the room, and putting things to rights. The first object that struck her eye was the confused situation of the papers on the table; these were without delay bundled together like so many dirty knives and forks: but in the action a small piece of paper fell unnoticed on the floor, which happened to be the very receipt in question: as it had no very respectable appearance, it was soon after swept out with the common dirt of the room, and carried in a rubbish-pan into the yard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the credit in his book; the defendant could find nothing to obviate the charge, and so judgment went against him for the debt and costs. A fortnight after the whole was settled, and the money paid, one of the children found the receipt among the rubbish in the yard.

There is also another custom peculiar to the city of Philadelphia, and nearly allied to the former. I mean that of washing the pavement before the doors every Saturday evening. I at first took this to a

regulation of the police; but, on further inquiry, find it is a religious rite, preparatory to the sabbatlı; and is, I believe, the only religious rite in which the numorous sectaries of this city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about sun-set, and continues till about ten or eleven at night. It is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on those evenings; he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty water thrown against his legs: but a Philadelphian born, is so much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian may be known any where by his gait. The streets of New York are paved with rough stones; these indeed are not washed, but the dirt is so thoroughly swept from before the doors, that the stones stand up sharp and prominent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not accustomed to so rough a path. But habit reconciles every thing. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian at New York he walks the streets with as much painful caution, as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet lamed with the gout; while a New Yorker, as little approving the plain masonry of Philadelphia, shuffles along the pavement like a parrot on a mahogany table.

It must be acknowledged that the ablutions I have mentioned are attended with no small inconvenience : but the women would not be induced, from any consideration to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can give you the strongest assurances. that the women of America make the most faithful wives and the most attentive mothers in the world; and I am sure you will join me in opinion, that if a married man is made miserable only one week in a whole year, he will have no great cause to complain of the matrimonial bond.

I am, &c.

ANSWER TO THE ABOVE.

In the Character of a Lady, but really by

THE SAME HAND.

SIR,

I HAVE lately seen a letter upon the subject_of white-washing, in which that necessary duty of a good house-wife is treated with unmerited ridicule. I should probably have forgot the foolish thing by this time but the season coming on which most women think suitable for cleansing their apartments from smoke and dirt of the winter, I find this saucy author dished up in every family, and his flippant performance quoted wherever a wife attempts to exercise her reasonable prerogative, or execute the duties of her station. Women generally employ their time to better purposes than scribbling. The cares and comforts of a family rest principally upon their shoulders; hence it is that there are but few female authors; and the men, knowing how necessary our attentions are to their happiness, take every opportunity of discouraging literary accomplishments in the fair sex. You hear it echoed from every quarter. My wife cannot make verses, it is true; but she makes an exceilent pudding; she can't correct the press, but she can correct her children, and scolds her servants with admirable discretion: she can't unravel the intricacies of political economy, and the federal government; but she can knit charming stockings." And this they call praising a wife, and doing justice to her character, with much nonsense of the like kind.

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I say, women generally employ their time to much better purposes than scribbling; otherwise this facetious writer had not gone so long unanswered. We have ladies who sometimes lay down the needle, and take up the pen; I wonder none of them have attempted some reply. For my part, I do not pretend to be an author. I never appeared in print in my life, but I can no longer forbear saying something in answer to such impertinence, circulate how it may, Only, sir, consider our situation. Men are naturally inattentive to the decencies of life; but why should I be so complaisant? I say, they are naturally filthy creatures. If it were not that their connexion with the refined sex polished their manners, and had a happy influence on the general economy of life, these lords of the creation would wallow in filth, and populous cities would infect the atmosphere with their noxious vapours. It is the attention and assiduity of the women that prevent men from degenerating into mere swine. How important then are the services we render; and yet for these very services we are made the subject of ridicule and fun. Base ingratitude! Nauseous creatures! Perhaps you may think I am in a passion. No, sir, I do assure you I never was more composed in my life, and yet it is enough to provoke a saint to see how unreasonably we are treated by the men. Why now, there's my husband-a good-enough sort of man in the mainbut I will give you a sample of him. He come into the parlour the other day, where, to be sure I was cutting up a piece of linen. "Lord!" says he, "what a flutter here is! I can't bear to see the parlour look like a tailor's shop; besides, I am going to make some important philosophical experiments, and must have sufficient room." You must know my husband is one of your would-be-philosophers, Well, I bundled up my linen as quick as I could, and began to darn a pair of ruffles, which took no room, and could give no offence. I thought, however, I would watch my lord and master's important business, In about half an hour the table was covered with all manner of trumpery; bottles of water, phials

of drugs, pasteboards, paper and cards, glue, paste, and gum-arabic; files, knives, scissors, needles, ro sin, wax, silk, thread, rags, jags, tags, books, pam. phlets and papers. Lord bless me! I am almost out of breath, and yet I have not enumerated half the articles. Well, to work he went, and although I did not understand the object of his manœuvres, yet! could sufficiently discover that he did not succeed in any one operation. I was glad of that, I confess, and with good reason too: for, after he had fatigued himself with mischief, like a monkey in a china-shop, and had called the servants to clear every thing away, I took a view of the scene my parlour exhibited. I shall not even attempt a minute description; suffice it to say, that he had overset his ink-stand, and stained my best mahogany table with ink: he had spilt a quantity of vitriol, and burnt a large hole in my carpet; my marble hearth was all over spotted with melted rosin besides this, he had broken three china cups, four wine glasses, two tumblers, and one of my handsomest decanters. And, after all, as I said before, I perceived that he had not succeeded in any one operation. By the bye, tell your friend, the white-wash scribbler, that this is one means by which our closets become furnished with halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken wine-glasses, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of departed decanters. I say, I took a view of the dirt and devastation my philosophic husband had occasioned; and there I sat, like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief; but it worked inwardly. I would almost as soon the melted rosin and vitriol had been in his throat, as on my dear marble hearth, and my beautiful carpet. It is not true that women have no power over their own feelings; for notwithstanding this provocation, I said nothing, or next to nothing, for I only observed, very pleasantly, what a lady of my acquaintance had told me, that the reason why philosophers are called literary men, is, because they make a great litter not a word more: however, the servant cleared away, and down sat the philosopher. A friend dropped in soon after-"Your servant, sir, how do

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