I WAS ever of opinion, that the honest man who married and brought up a large family, did more service than he who
continued single and only talked of population. From this motive I had scarcely taken orders a year, before I began to think
seriously of matrimony, and choose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surf ace, but such qualities as
would wear well, To do her justice, she was a good-natured, notable woman; and as for breeding, there were few country
ladies who could show more. She could read any English book without much spelling; but for pickling, preserving, and cookery
none could excel her. She prided herself also upon being an excellent contriver in housekeeping, though I never could find that
we grew richer with all her contrivances.

   However, we loved each other tenderly, and our fondness increased as we grew old. There was, in fact, nothing that could
make us angry with the world

or each other. We had an elegant house, situated in a fine country, and a good neighborhood. The year was spent in moral or
rural amusements, in visiting our rich neighbors, and relieving such as were poor. We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues to
undergo; all our adventures were by the fireside, and all our migrations from the blue bed to the brown.

   As we lived near the road, we often had the traveller or stranger visit us to taste our gooseberry wine, for which we had great
reputation; and I profess, with the veracity of an historian, that I never knew one of them to find fault with it. Our cousins, too,
even to the fortieth remove, all remembered their affinity, without any help from the Herald's Office, and came very frequently
to see us. Some of them did us no great honor by these claims of kindred; as we had the blind, the maimed, and the halt
amongst the number. However, my wife always insisted that as they were the same flesh and blood, they should sit with us at
the same table. So that if we had not very rich, we generally had very happy friends about us; for this remark will hold good
through life, that the poorer the guest, the better pleased be ever is with being treated; and as some men gaze with admiration at
the colors of a tulip, or the wing of a butterfly, so I was by nature an admirer of happy human faces. However, when any one of
our relations was found to be a person of very bad character, a troublesome guest, or

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one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving my house I ever took care to lend him a riding-coat or a pair of-boots, or
sometimes a horse of small value, and I always had the satisfaction of finding he never came back to return them. By this the
house was cleared of such as we did not like; but never was the family of Wakefield known to turn the traveller or the poor
dependent out of doors.

   Thus we lived several years in a state of much happiness, not but that we sometimes had those little rubs which Providence
sends to enhance the value of its favors. My orchard was often robbed by schoolboys, and my wife's custards plundered by the
cats or the children. The 'Squire would sometimes fall asleep in the most pathetic parts of my sermon, or his lady return my
wife's civilities at church with a mutilated courtesy. But we soon got over the uneasiness caused by such accidents, and usually
in three or four days began to wonder how they vexed us.

   My children, the offspring of temperance, as they were educated without softness, so they were at once well formed and
healthy; my sons hardy and active, my daughters beautiful and blooming. When I stood in the midst of the little circle, which
promised to be the support of my declining age, I could not avoid repeating the famous story of Count Abensberg, who, in
Henry the Second's progress through Germany, while other courtiers came with their treasures,

brought his thirty-two children, and presented them to his sovereign as the most valuable offering he had to bestow. In this
manner, though I had but six, I considered them as a very valuable present made to my country, and consequently looked upon
it as my debtor. Our oldest son was named George, after his uncle, who left us ten thousand pounds. Our second child, a girl, I
intended to call after her aunt Grissel; but my wife, who during her pregnancy had been reading romances, insisted upon her
being called Olivia. In less than another year we had another daughter, and now I was determined that Grissel should be her
name; but a rich relation taking a fancy to stand god-mother, the girl was, by her directions, called Sophia, so that we had two
romantic names in the family; but I solemnly protest I had no hand in it. Moses was our next, and after an interval of twelve
years we had two sons more.

   It would be fruitless to deny my exultation when I saw my little ones about me; but the vanity and the satisfaction of my wife
were even greater than mine. When our visitors would say: "Well, upon my word, Mrs. Primrose, you have the finest children in
the whole country," "Ay, neighbor," she would answer, "they are as Heaven made them, handsome enough, if they be good
enough; for handsome is that handsome does." And then she would bid the girls hold up their heads, who, to conceal nothing,
were certainly

very handsome. Mere outside is so very trifling a circumstance with me, that I should scarcely have remembered to mention it
had it not been a general topic of conversation in the country. Olivia, now about eighteen, had that luxuriance of beauty with
which painters generally draw Hebe-open, sprightly, and commanding. Sophia's features were not so striking at first, but often
did more certain execution; for they were soft, modest and alluring. The one vanquished by a single blow, the other by efforts
successfully repeated.

   The temper of a woman is generally formed from the turn of her features; at least it was so with my daughters. Olivia wished
for many lovers, Sophia to secure one. Olivia was often affected with too great a desire to please. Sophia even repressed
excellence from her fears to offend. The one entertained me with her vivacity when I was gay, the other with her sense when I
was serious. But these qualities were never carried to excess in either, and I have often seen them exchange characters for a
whole day together. A suit of mourning has transformed my coquette into a prude, and a new set of ribands has given her
younger sister more than natural vivacity. My eldest son George was bred at Oxford, as I intended him for one of the learned
professions. My second boy Moses, whom I designed for business, received a sort of miscellaneous education at home. But it
is needless to attempt

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describing the particular characters of young people that had seen but very little of the world. In short, a family likeness
prevailed through all; and, properly speaking, they had but one character, that of being all equally generous, credulous, simple,
and inoffensive.