Wife.—­Yes, and I will make no return to all those I have a mind to drop, and there’s an end of all their acquaintance at once.

Husb.—­And what must I do?

Wife.—­Nay, my dear, it is not for me to direct that part; you know how to cure the evil which you sensibly feel the mischief of.  If I do my part, I don’t doubt you know how to do yours.

Husb.—­Yes, I know, but it is hard, very hard.

Wife.—­Nay, I hope it is no harder for you than it is for your wife.

Husb.—­That is true, indeed, but I’ll see.

Wife.—­The question to me is not whether it is hard, but whether it is necessary.

Husb.—­Nay, it is necessary, that is certain.

Wife.—­Then I hope it is as necessary to you as to your wife.

Husb.—­I know not where to begin.

Wife.—­Why, you keep two horses and a groom, you keep rich high company, and you sit long at the Fleece every evening.  I need say no more; you know where to begin well enough.

Husb.—­It is very hard; I have not your spirit, my dear.

Wife.—­I hope you are not more ashamed to retrench, than you would be to have your name in the Gazette.

Husb.—­It is sad work to come down hill thus.

Wife.—­It would be worse to fall down at one blow from the top; better slide gently and voluntarily down the smooth part, than to be pushed down the precipice, and be dashed all in pieces.

There was more of this dialogue, but I give the part which I think most to the present purpose; and as I strive to shorten the doctrine, so I will abridge the application also; the substance of the case lies in a few particulars, thus:—­

I. The man was melancholy, and oppressed with the thoughts of his declining circumstances, and yet had not any thought of letting his wife know it, whose way of living was high and expensive, and more than he could support; but though it must have ended in ruin, he would rather let it have gone on till she was surprised in it, than to tell her the danger that was before her.

His wife very well argues the injustice and unkindness of such usage, and how hard it was to a wife, who, being of necessity to suffer in the fall, ought certainly to have the most early notice of it—­that, if possible, she might prevent it, or, at least, that she might not be overwhelmed with the suddenness and the terror of it.

II.  Upon discovering it to his wife, or rather her drawing the discovery from him by her importunity, she immediately, and most readily and cheerfully, enters into measures to retrench her expenses, and, as far as she was able, to prevent the blow, which was otherwise apparent and unavoidable.

Hence it is apparent, that the expensive living of most tradesmen in their families, is for want of a serious acquainting their wives with their circumstances, and acquainting them also in time; for there are very few ladies so unreasonable, who, if their husbands seriously informed them how things stood with them, and that they could not support their way of living, would not willingly come into measures to prevent their own destruction.