his Feet, and begged of him to return them.  He with the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety, swore he would read them.  I grew more importunate, he more curious, till at last, with an Indignation arising from a Passion I then first discovered in him, he threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing that since he was not to read them, the Man who writ them should never be so happy as to have me read them over again.  It is insignificant to tell you my Tears and Reproaches made the boisterous Calf leave the Room ashamed and out of Countenance, when I had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with more than ordinary Sorrow:  However, such was then my Confidence in my Husband, that I writ to him the Misfortune, and desired another Paper of the same kind.  He deferred writing two or three Posts, and at last answered me in general, That he could not then send me what I asked for, but when he could find a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to have it.  From this time his Letters were more cold every Day than the other, and as he grew indifferent I grew jealous.  This has at last brought me to Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriage dead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation, has buried a young Lady whom he married in Obedience to his Father.  In a word, he shuns and disowns me.  Should I come to the House and confront him, the Father would join in supporting him against me, though he believed my Story; should I talk it to the World, what Reparation can I expect for an Injury I cannot make out?  I believe he means to bring me, through Necessity, to resign my Pretentions to him for some Provision for my Life; but I will die first.  Pray bid him remember what he said, and how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedless Discovery I often made of my self; let him remember how awkward he was in my dissembled Indifference towards him before Company; ask him how I, who could never conceal my Love for him, at his own Request, can part with him for ever?  Oh, Mr. SPECTATOR, sensible Spirits know no Indifference in Marriage; what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?—–­I leave you to represent my Distress your own way, in which I desire you to be speedy, if you have Compassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy.  Octavia.

T.

* * * * *

No. 323.  Tuesday, March 11, 1712.  Addison.

  Modo Vir, modo Foemina. [1]

  Virg.

The journal with which I presented my Reader on Tuesday last, has brought me in several Letters, with Accounts of many private Lives cast into that Form.  I have the Rakes Journal, the Sots Journal, the Whoremasters Journal, and among several others a very curious Piece, entituled, The Journal of a Mohock.  By these Instances I find that the Intention of my last Tuesdays Paper has been mistaken by many of my Readers.  I did not design so much to expose Vice as Idleness, and aimed at those Persons who pass away their Time rather in Trifle and Impertinence, than in Crimes and Immoralities.  Offences of this latter kind are not to be dallied with, or treated in so ludicrous a manner.  In short, my Journal only holds up Folly to the Light, and shews the Disagreeableness of such Actions as are indifferent in themselves, and blameable only as they proceed from Creatures endow’d with Reason.