Very specific

I still think my point on how oddly specific the Goth sensibility is stands well. Consider this. Liking things with anthropomorphic animals (or zoomorphic humans) doesn’t necessarily make somebody furry and so is dressing up like an animal to whatever degree. Bugs Bunny could make a furry out of somebody but not all people who like Looney Tunes are necessarily furries.

Dressing in an animal costume doesn’t make somebody furry. In fact, cat ear headbands are worn by non-furries too. Liking stories with furries in it doesn’t necessarily make the person a furry. It’s a lot more specific than that and I think I’ve been beaten to it by an actual furry. Likewise, liking spooky things doesn’t necessarily make somebody Goth. Metalheads do it too and if I’m not mistaken, the Prodigy’s Liam Howlett liked horror movies but he’s not a Goth member.

He could’ve listened to Goth music at some point (as he samples a lot) but he’s not necessarily part of it as much as he was part of the rave subculture. Dressing in black often doesn’t necessarily make somebody Goth as athletes and the clergy also do it too. (Actually there’s even a Brazilian Goth football/soccer team.)

Listening to any of the Goth classics (Bauhaus, Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees or even Sisters of Mercy, Virgin Prunes and XMal Deutschland) doesn’t necessarily make somebody Goth especially if they’re not that involved in that subculture, let alone for long. Liking horror movies doesn’t always make somebody Goth as I said about Liam Howlett.

There might be some overlap but not all horror movie fans are necessarily fans of Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Cure or Sisters of Mercy. Now if you wanted me to honest, I did have something of a Goth phase but I really can’t get into Edgar Allan Poe much and I turned out to have more of a thing for folk music and even heavy metal.

So keep in mind that the Goth sensibility’s a lot more specific than this though this might also be my epiphany.

Bali Raw: An expose of the underbelly of Bali, Indonesia (Extrait/Excerpt)

Romance on the Road: Traveling Women who Love Foreign Men › books

Jeannette Belliveau – 2006 – ‎Snippet view
femme enough to attract toms, and not butch enough to attract dees) to be challenging hurdles.” One academic … In the Bali of the 1930s, many expatriate artists and visitors, including two women, found themselves roused by the comely and sensually refined locals (the island remains … One indication of how times have changed is this blatant proposition from a Javanese gigolo: “Want banana, Miss?
Bali: tourisme culturel et culture touristique – Page 89 › books – Translate this page

Michel Picard – 1992 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
Par ailleurs, le développement de la station y a attiré une force de travail originaire d’autres régions de Bali ou d’autres îles de l’archipel. … manières occidentalisées et à l’accent australien, composés d’artistes ratés, de gigolos, de souteneurs, de trafiquants en tous genres, … recherchées pour leur argent autant que pour leur réputation de femmes faciles, et fréquente assidûment les endroits à la mode, …
Sex at the Margins: Migration, Labour Markets and the Rescue … › books

Laura María Agustín – 2007 – ‎Preview – ‎More editions
Laura Agustín presents an analysis of the position prostitutes occupy within the global economy.
The Revival of Tradition in Indonesian Politics: The … › books

Jamie Davidson, ‎David Henley – 2007 – ‎Preview – ‎More editions
This book investigates the revival of adat in Indonesian politics, identifying its origins, the historical factors that have conditioned it and the reasons behind its recent blossoming.
New York – Volume 32, Issue 4 – Page 82 › books

2000 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
UA Astoria— 28-60 Steinway St. (7 1 8-726-1 279) Anna and the King; Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo; Galaxy Quest; Tlie Green Mile; Sleepy Hollow; Snow Falling on (Cedars. … 1 /20: Smiles of a Summer Night (1955); Les Bonnes Femmes (1960). …. Dance of the I ir- gins (1935) accompanied by a Balinese orchestra.
Halliwell’s Film, Video & DVD Guide › books

2008 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
… et une Femme: see A Man and a Woman Ho mm* i Femmes: Mode d’emploi: see Men Women; A User’s Manual ‘First she …. Elsa Lanchester, Kecnan Wynn Honeymoon in Bali US 1939 95m bw Paramount (Jeff Lazarus) GB title: Husbands or … A gigolo and a nurse team up to prey upon women looking for a husband.
The Loving Dominant › books

John Warren – 2000 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
John Warren, known as “Mentor” to the many who have read his books or hearkened to his sage advice at his workshops and gatherings, brought his decades of BDSM experience to his classic manual “The Loving Dominant”.
Who is who in Music: A Complete Presentation of the … › books

1940 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
… 657—Mr. Freddie Blues; 1862–Oh ! You Crazy Moon; 2613—On the Beach at Bali Bali ; 829—Outside of Paradise; 1568—Panic Is …. Bourbon, Ray, voc: Gigolo ; Chiropractor’s Wife; Lib. … 242—C’Est Pas La Peine; 23.1—C’Est Toujours La Meme Chanson: 327–Chez-Moi; 307—Comme Une Femme; 237—Coup Dur, …
Dirty French: Everyday Slang from › books

Adrien Clautrier, ‎Henry Rowe – 2009 – ‎Preview – ‎More editions
This book includes phrases for every situation, including expressions for describing art that make one sound smart and cool.
Dynamiques identitaires en Asie et dans le Pacifique: Enjeux … › books – Translate this page

Françoise Douaire-Marsaudon, ‎Bernard Sellato, ‎Chantal Zheng – 2006 – ‎Snippet view
Les femmes, certes encore très minoritaires, commencent à fréquenter certaines destinations pour chercher la compagnie de beach boys et autres gigolos bronzés. Ainsi les Japonaises et les Australiennes qui partent seules à Bali, les Israéliennes qui voyagent en groupe à Bangkok et les Japonaises qui se rendent à Phuket. Si les débats actuels autour de la prostitution au sein de l’Europe témoignent …

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

An interesting phenomenon, which was recently exposed in the fascinating film documentary ‘Cowboys in Paradise’, is the large number of Western and Japanese women who come to Bali seeking the attention of young men, both Western and Indonesian. Some of these women seem to have a bee in their bonnet about Western men living in Southeast Asia but they believe their own actions are beyond reproach.

I was once accused of paying Indonesian girls for sex by a forty-year-old Western woman who was sleeping with male Western tourists in their twenties. This accusation was levelled at me while we were sitting in a large group of people and for no other reason than because I lived in Bali. I was still in my no-payment phase but my accuser refused to accept this.

On another occasion, a forty-two year-old Australian divorcee boasted to me about her latest conquest: a nineteen-year-old Western boy. I didn’t judge her but I did make a note of the fact that she complained about Western men dating younger Indonesian girls.

On yet another occasion a Western woman, who booked a friend’s villa, rang all her friends and stated she would not stay in the house because the owner was sleeping with children. She claimed the victim was a child when in fact she was twenty-six, she was the owner’s long-time girlfriend and she had a five-year-old son from a previous relationship. Obviously the accusation hurt the man’s reputation and business.

I have met Western women who come to Bali for two weeks, pick up a different bloke every night, and then go home to their families to play wife and mum. This seems to happen on a rotational basis and the two-week girl’s holiday away from hubby and the kids is an organised triple-S tour: shop, spa and sex.

Female tourists also love young Indonesian boys. They pick them up, pay all their bills and buy them clothes, drinks and food. For some reason, a lot of these women see this as normal; they are just helping the poorer partner in the relationship keep up. That is until a man does the same thing. This they term as prostitution.

Surprisingly this is most prevalent among Japanese women, who seem to love Indonesian boys, and you often see a beautiful young Japanese girl traipsing around with her Indonesian boyfriend. As for the older Japanese women they are somewhat careful about these liaisons and they are generally carried out behind closed doors.

I was told once that this is a dominance thing. Japanese girls are given very little respect or power in their country, and creating a relationship with an Indonesian and controlling the finances allows them a level of power that they would not otherwise not receive. I was told this by one of the legendary Kuta cowboys, Bali’s beach gigolos. The guy told me this has gone as far as marrying two Western women and living in Australia with both, and he also has a child with a Japanese girl. He has since given up this lifestyle and wants to marry an Indonesian girl.

For Western women this happens more often than most people would believe, and although it has been going for a long time Western women are now becoming a little more blase in these endeavours. I have no problem with this, but it can be a case of glass houses, especially when I hear the problems Indonesian women have with Western women when they try and settle down with their Western men in a place like Australia.

The other thing about Western women that surprises me is that they attempt to pick up Indonesian working girls. Only recently, a friend’s Indonesian girlfriend told me that two Western women had tried to pick her up in a nightclub. This was not the first time I had heard of this and a lot of working girls have had similar experiences. Timi, a girl I know who works as a masseuse, tells me that Western women often ask for happy endings. Timi works in an upmarket, supposedly legitimate, spa; the place is exclusively for women and Timi worked hard to get the job so she did not have to give happy endings to men. I questioned Timi relentlessly about this and she swore it was true and it was happening in spas all over Bali.

Personally I couldn’t give a toss what female tourists get up to; I only mention it because male tourists get such a bad rap.

Picky, picky

Like I said, some black men don’t even like thugs and practise celibacy. In fact, it’s not uncommon for black men to be just as sexually picky as their white counterparts are. There are some black men who don’t want to date women who’re too attached to their dogs (or any other pet). There are also some black men who don’t like tattooed women, single mothers, feminists and promiscuous women.

Some don’t like fat women. Likewise there are blacks who bash both white men and women just as there are some white women who’re racist to black men in the expected, stereotypical sense of the word. (This is partly why some interracial relationships fail.) Not all black men are like this and some black men do in fact marry and date black women. Whatever women for non-stereotypical reasons.

Not all black men in interracial relationships are like this. But keep in mind not all black men are necessarily that sexually available, especially if they’re sexually picky and even celibate.

The cliches comes falling

I still think part of the real reason why some interracial relationships don’t go as expected isn’t just due to peer disapproval but also having far too high expectations. It’s like expecting black men to be horny and well-endowed but then again some black men don’t like or refuse sex. Just as some black men might even have small penises. (I’m not surprised by a Kenyatalk poster proclaiming that he has a small penis which should be a logically damning posssibility in this context.)

I’m not any better in some regards before. But keep in mind not all black men neccessarily fulfill stereotypes, not even entirely so. I actually know some black men who don’t like thugs, practise celibacy and are even misogynistic to both black and white women. Alternately speaking, some white women are domineering and/or regard blacks in such a stereotypical manner that their relationships deteriorate. There’s even a study on some gay men where if their ethnic lovers fit cliches, they get disposed right away.

As if they’re not seen as people. (I actually think the possibility of some black men having small penises and black men refusing men should enable others to see them as people.) Like I said, there are some black people who don’t like thugs but white people who continue to see all blacks as thugs (or whatever daft stereotype) is partly why some interracial relationships deteriorate. If you keep seeing somebody as a stereotype, it makes it harder to see them as actual people. Even if it’s positive, it’s not true for everybody.

Not even 100%. You could be black, athletic but not that well-endowed and you’re this disinterested in sex. Some black men are unathletic and others aren’t that into sports in general. Though again that would mean they’re people whether if you’re attracted or not.

Good Health (Google Books)

Illustrated London News – Volume 37 – Page 688 › books

1905 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
It must be a wrench to her Royal Highness to leave such small children, but the Queen has undertaken to have them under her personal charge. Queen Victoria’s way … A high medical authority declares that domestic pets, and especially lap-dogs, are responsible for much of the spreading of consumption. … How many thousands are thus addressed, especially amongst solitary and childless women!

Country dogs, too, are thoroughly miserable on their first introduction to the comforts of city life ; they rise every half minute from their couch in the chimney corner, and hang about the door, looking appealingly at every visitor, even though a blizzard howls without. They seem at first unable to disassociate the ideas of confinement and captivity, and probably also mourn the lost opportunities for exercise and moonlight rambles, or their separation from caches of buried bones, for, with all the relatives of the burrowing fox, the enjoyment of fresh air is a secondary consideration. The proverbial wretchedness of a tan-yard dog has nothing to do with the effluvia of the hide-vat. The pulmonary resisting power of man’s truest friend was strikingly illustrated by a recent tragedy in Chicago. A Danish dairyman, in stress of hard times, prepared for suicide, and conceived the horrible idea of taking all his relatives and pets along. His wife, four children, canary birds, and Newfoundlander, were sleeping in two adjoining rooms; and after locking the doors and screwing down the windows, the desperado turned on the gas, and went to bed. At eleven o’clock the next morning the house door was opened by two policemen, who were almost suffocated before they succeeded in opening the windows. The atmosphere resembled that of a gas tank, and the murderer had attained his purpose in all essentials. He had probably died before midnight. His wife, children, and birds were all hopelessly dead, but the big Newfoundlander was not only alive, but in the full possession of his five senses, and rose with a menacing growl when the strangers approached the bed of his master. But, as a rule, that four-footed miracle had probably passed the nights in the back-yard of the little cottage, and protracted confinement in a vitiated atmosphere at last affects the respiratory comfort of parlor dogs. They begin to sniffle and get so asthmatic that their efforts at locomotion are attended with an audible wheeze. Their digestive apparatus, however, generally shows the first symptoms of disorder. They become fastidious, turning up their stove-dried noses at dainties which the lank trampdogs of the Western prairies would purchase at the price of a fifty-mile trot through the snow ; surfeits avenge themselves in retching fits, dietetic caprices (the mastication of rags, as the best available substitute for grass), or, to their patrons’ still greater alarm, in a complete loss of appetite. Fido declines to answer the dinner call. He sticks to his couch or the ounge, uttering now and then a querulous whine, wags his tail apologetically in reply to my lady’s

inquiries, but snarls at the approach of the man with the medicine bottle. Still there are specialists for complaints of that sort. In Vienna and Paris they have veterinary hospitals with special wards for the treatment of canine disorders. “Is the dog physician in P” inquires Madame Baizze-Chien, entering the office with a waddling pug-dog. “Yes; take a chair, madame ; kindly state the symptoms of the complaint, and I will take charge of your pet, and warrant a cure in four days.” “Couldn’t you just make out a prescription and—” “Let you physic him at home, you mean P. We could hardly guarantee the results. You see, it is necessary to watch the effect of our prescriptions from hour to hour. There is not the slightest risk if you will intrust him to us for half a week.” “O it will half kill me ! But if I leave him, please treat him as you would your own — remember his enfeebled condition, I mean, and do not prescribe too violent drugs ; promise me that.” “With pleasure. We shall try to dispense with drastic drugs altogether. Kindly let me arrange his bed in this basket of wool.” Madam finally consents, and a minute after her departure the specialist rings a bell. “Here, Jacques, fling a pailful of water on this little monster, and tie him up in the kennel-yard. Give him all the water he wants, but not one crumb of lunch before next Friday night. Then try him with a small slice of bread; but take care he does not snap your fingers off. We have to return him by Saturday noon.” Fido returns, like a regenerate prodigal, and only the deficient caliber of his hide, not lack of appetite, will hinder him from devouring a fatted calf, bones and all. But a suspicion of their business methods has diminished the popularity of these pug-dog hospitals. Drugs failing, Fido is left to his misery, and its consequences avenge him upon the race of his tormentors. He becomes a night yelper, awakening invalids and anathemas for a dozen blocks around his master’s back porch. The watch-dog instinct constitutes half the value of the animal that disputes the horse’s claim to supreme usefulness, but no one who has listened all night to the monotonous, querulous yelping of city curs, can doubt that they bark for precisely the same reason that makes city babies squall, and caged jackals howl; viz., the lack of better exercise. Vocal efforts to some degree supplement deficient opportunities for the exertion of the motive organs, and, combined with the promptings of a fretful humor, the close confinement of domestic pets thus evolves the most horrid forms of that noise nuisance that has made thousands of city dwellers envy the silence of the desert, or even of the grave. The East Indian jungle cock, the ancestor of our barn-yard fowl, crows at daybreak to rally the beauties of his harem, or warn them to seek shelter from the eye of the forest hawk; but only captivity has developed the penchant for those moonlight serenades that make one long for a visitation of that chicken epidemic which in 1859 killed off the poultry of nearly all Southern China.

“If I could get a good sleep,” writes Mrs. Jane Carlyle in formentis, “I would have a chance to recover ; but that dreadful woman next door, instead of suppressing the cock which we so pathetically appealed against, has produced another. Her servant has ceased to take charge of them. They are stuffed, with ever so many hens, into a small hen-coop every night. Of course they are not comfortable, and of course they crow and screech, not only from daylight, but from midnight, and so near that it goes through one’s head every time like a sword. The night before last they woke me every quarter of an hour; but I slept some in the intervals, for they had not succeeded in rousing him above. But last night they had him up at three. He went to bed again, and I listened every minute for a new screech that would send him down a second time. What is to be done, God knows. If this goes on, he will soon be in Bedlam, and I, too, for anything I see to the conThe last note we sent that woman she would not open. I send for the maid, and she will not come. I would give them guineas for peace, but they prefer torminenting us. In the law there is no recourse in such cases. They may keep wild beasts in their back-yard if they choose to do so.”

A year ago the managers of the Pullman colony were probably the best-hated men in America, but it must have modified the verdict of thousands to learn that one cause of their tenants’ complaints was the “tyrannous regulation ” against the keeping of pigs and roosters.

Mrs. Carlyle’s theory about the approximate cause of crowing concerts agrees with that of a noteworthy Italian couplet:

trary, and how to hinder it from going on 2

“Mo Aor Alacer, ma for rabbia
Canfa il wrello nella gabbia —”

“It is not pleasure, it is rage,
That makes the bird sing in his cage.”

The crow of a caged rooster is not a shriek of triumph, but of distress and complaint. The habit of drowsing in a chimney-corner at last grows upon lap-dogs; and when they are put out for the night, their humor may often resemble that of the abbots whom Joseph the Second ousted from their snug convents. In a similar manner the dependence upon dry-goods becomes a second nature with pet monkeys and marmots, and Dr. Brehm’s baby chimpanzee insisted on being rocked to sleep, and screeched violently if his nurse stopped the cradle before he had entered the realm of dreamland. Facts of that sort, indeed, often tempt one to conclude that all kinds of unnaturalism can become a “second nature.” The sheep of the Shetlands learn to prefer dried fish to grass, and there is a story of an Indian rajah who, by way of experiment, fed a colt on a mixture of meat and meal, and finally on meat-hash alone’; and this in the course of a year produced a maned monster that would gallop down billy goats, stamp them out of shape, and tear out pieces with its teeth, snorting viciously if any one attempted to interfere with its wolfish feast. Corpulent lap-dogs get used to pepper-sauce, to ketchup, and even to strong, bitter coffee, a stimulant unredeemed by the least trace of nutritive ingredient; that is, they learn to prefer it to milk. Their organism somehow adapts itself to the abnormal habit, but experiences the evil consequences the sooner, the less their development is neutralized by the redeeming influence of active exercise. Papfed hounds lose their teeth, and pampered lap-dogs incur what Hippolyte Taine called the “penalty of effeminacy and absinthe ”— they perish childless. The wolfish tramp-dogs of the Mexican border raise about nine out of ten pups; dyspeptic pugs, hardly one out of five. The few whelps they do raise are so ill-favored and snappish that the vote of the first referendum is likely to doom them to the Stygian whirlpool. Overfed pets also forfeit a hereditary accomplishment that manifests itself even in the youngsters of vigorous breeds — they cannot swim. Their adipose tissue may keep them afloat for a while, but they cannot stem the current of any swift stream, and succumb to the problem of climbing a slippery bank.

(To be continued.)

The Ohio Journal of Commerce, Volume 4

Sex Knowledge – Page 70 › books

Norah Helena March – 1922 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
When a childless woman directs her motherhood interests to an infatuated care of cats, lap-dogs, and canaries, she is much more to be pitied than to be blamed, for her peculiarity is the result of unsatisfied desires, probably unconscious ones, …
Animal heroes of the great war – Page xxxviii › books

Ernest Harold Baynes, ‎Owen Wister – 1925 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
It is more commonly to be seen in women than in men. It is not always, though it is for the most part, the childless woman in … With them in the railway compartment was a lady with a little daughter and two pet lap-dogs. On learning that in …
Chicago Sunday Tribune Magazine of Books – Page 1 › books

1958 – ‎Snippet view
The heroine is a childless woman whose deepest love is for the boy, who is not her own. The scene is a little Alpine village. … John Steinbeck, for instance, sheds light on the origin of the lap dog. He claims to have discovered in one of the first …

The Ohio Journal of Commerce, Volume 4

Old Fashioned Mothers Needed By Rev. George R. Stewart of Cleveland, Tenn.

women and lap dogs do not make a country; it takes fathers and mothers and children.

You can. with immense advantage to the country, load up about 5000 of these giddy, godless, childless women and ship them out of the country and bring in an equal number of good old-fashioned mothers. ‘

This country needs obedience to authority. Anarchy is not born in Chicago’s Haymarket square, but in the slums. If a boy does not obey his father or mother it is incipient anarchy. I do not blame the sixteen-year-old girls for the way they dress. There is not a girl of that age who knows enough to dress as she ought. That is the reason she needs a mother.

I asked a successful dog trainer how he did his work and he replied, I take the dogs when they are pups and then I get

September 16, 1911 173 THE OHIO JOURNAL OF COMMERCE

complete control over them and keep them doing the same – things over and over again until it becomes nature.

This is the secret of bringing up children. God gives them to us when they are absolutely helpless in our hands and He expects us to train them until goodness becomes a second nature. The man who said he raised his boys on prayers and hickory had the secret. Never lie to your children. It is lying parents who most quickly break down their children’s integrity.

Chambers’s Journal (Google Books)


In the summer of 1819, while on a strolling excursion through Perthshire, I chanced one day to ramble to the top of a considerable eminence, from which I beheld one of the most charming scenes that had ever met my eye in the course of my wanderings. Directly before me lay a small vale, or rather a portion of a vale, finely cultivated, and plentifully besprinkled with trees. A large mountain stream winded along the centre of the dale; and from the vantage ground I occupied, its waters were visible here and there, glistening in the sun. The day was remarkably fine, and accordingly the scene presented every sight and sound of busy rural life, appropriate to the season. The object, however, which attracted my attention most particularly, was a mansion-house, in which, as I concluded, the proprietor of the vale resided. Chance had led me to the very spot from which I could view this seat most favourably. An avenue of fine old trees ran exactly parallel with the line of vision, and disclosed at its farther end an irregular house, of no great size, and evidently of ancient architecture, but contrasting most pleasingly with the green earth ald dark foliage around. Behind the mansion at some distance rose the height which formed part of the opposite boundary of the vale; and this being covered with thick pine-wood, heightened greatly the fine effect of the antique walls. Every point of this prospect seemed to my eye perfect, and all was distinctly visible, as the vale could not be much more than a mile in breadth.

Pleasure being then my only business, I resolved to walk down from the heathy ridge, and examine more closely, if practicable, the beauties of this Arcadian spot. Seeing a small porter’s-lodge-looking tenement near the foot of the avenue, I made my way towards it; and being unchallenged in my conversion of parks into paths, I soon reached it. A porter’s lodge it turned out to be, and my knock at the gate brought out a tidy young matron, who, in answer to my question, told me the name of the mansion and of its proprietor. The reader, for certain reasons, must permit me to call the former Glendale, and its master Mr Grant. After an apparently satisfactory glance at my attire, the porteress further informed me, to my great gratification, that Mr Grant permitted any gentleman to view his pleasure-grounds and dwelling. Thus licensed, I entered immediately, and commenced a leisurely walk up the fine old-fashioned avenue.

It is unnecessary to detail to the reader how many natural beauties, and tasteful supplements of art, I observed on closer inspection of Glendale. Suffice it to say, that in this instance distance had lent no false enchantment to the scene. Pleased with all I saw, I was about to depart by the road I came, when near the head of the avenue I was met by a gentleman and lady, with a little girl of three or four years old walking between them. They passed me very closely, and gave me an opportunity of observing fully their appearance, as far, at least, as decorum would permit. The gentleman had a manly, handsome figure, and seemed about forty years of age. But the lady cannot be described in such tame language. She was strikingly beautiful in face, and in person faultlessly elegant. That grace which perfect symmetry only can impart, and which is discernible at a glance, betrayed itself in every movement of her form. Even without the countenance of the pretty little child to act as an index, I should have surmised at once that the parties were husband and wife. They had scarcely passed me when another pair came into view, a gentleman and lady also. They were walking arm-and-arm, and in close converse. As they approached, I observed in the lady a most remarkable resemblance to the one who had already passed me. The second was indeed a little younger, and less matured in form, but in other respects was an exact counterpart of the first, possessing the same beauty of features and elegance of person.

What I have taken so much time to describe, I was not a moment in gathering. But rapidly as these personages flitted before my eyes, they did not soon depart from my mind. The beautiful countenances of the two ladies—sisters evidently— haunted my mind’s eye; and being somewhat given to romantic, or, as my friends are occasionally rude enough to term them, absurd speculations, I was occupied all the way back to the village inn, with fancies respecting the situations of the parties I had seen. The first pair, I had determined, were Mr Grant of Glendale and his lady, and the other pair were most certainly lovers. For what reason had they lingered behind but to enjoy their sweet love-converse 2 The thing was plain and undeniable. At the inn, to which I got back about the hour of dinner, I found that a respectable member of the commercial body, a traveller from Leeds, was to be the companion of my meal. Down we sat to table, the traveller’s mind too much engrossed with the important business of the moment, and mine ruminating too deeply on the Arcady of my thoughts, Glendale, to talk any more than was necessary to each other. The great matter, however, was at last got over, and speech became almost indispensable. The reader, knowing the peculiar direction of my thoughts, may easily guess how much I was surprised with the turn our conAversation took at the very first. I asked the traveller § listlessly, and scarcely, indeed, heeding what I uttered, “If he had ever seen Glendale 2″ “No, sir,” was his reply; “I have never seen Mr Grant’s property; but I know some curious matters regarding him and his family.” “Indeed!” exclaimed I, in astonishment. “You are amazed,” said my companion, with a smile, “at the idea that a Leeds traveller should know any thing of a Perthshire gentleman’s affairs. But that is easily explained. You shall hear, if you please, a story, nnd a romantic one too, about Glendale and its inhabitants.” It is impossible to tell how interesting a person the traveller became in my eyes by these words. A story ! and that a romantic one, about the paragons I had seen The thought was delightful. “Several years ago,” said my communicative acquaintance, “there resided in a small town to the west of Glasgow, a worthy man of the name of Penman. He was in business as a cloth-merchant, and by prudence and industry had earned a high character, and maintained his family in comfort. Two daughters and their mother constituted Mr Penman’s little household. One of the merchant’s greatest anxieties was to educate his daughters well; and as far as common and elementary instruction was concerned, this he was easily enabled to effect. But those higher intellectual accomplishments, which mark the refined portion of the sex, it was above his means to procure for them. Under these circumstances, when his eldest girl reached the age of seventeen, he resolved to take advantage of an invitation that had been frequently made to him from his two maiden sisters, who wished one of his daughters to come and reside with them. These ladies kept a highly respectable boarding-school in Perth, and it was only because the affectionate parents could not bear to send their children so great a distance away, that the opportunity had not been made use of before. Now, however, Mr and Mrs Penman saw that they should neglect their duty, did they not take advantage of the offers of their relations. Every thing was prepared for the departure of the eldest girl, Mary; and after taking farewell of her parents, she entered the stage-coach for Glasgow, whence she was to proceed immediately to Perth. On reaching Glasgow, where she had frequently been before, Miss Penman took the opportunity of the hour that intervened before the departure of the Perth stage, to make some purchases. While passing along the street, she became the unconscious object of observation to a young gentleman, walking in the same direction. Mary was both beautiful and handsome, more so, the gentleman thought, than any woman he had ever before seen. He followed her footsteps on the street; and when she entered a shop for the purpose we have mentioned, he walked into it also, and, as an excuse, made purchase of a pair of gloves. He had thus the gratification of standing for a moment by Miss Penman’s side; but before he had received his change from the shopman, she had concluded her bargain and left the place. On issuing to the street, all the anxious glances which the gentleman sent in every direction, in search of the form and face which had fascinated him so much, were in vain. The place was the Trongate, and Miss Penman had stept into the Perth coach, which was standing, ready to start, only a few paces from the shop she had entered. So that, whilst her admirer of the moment was parading the street fruitlessly, she was whirled rapidly on her way to a distant city. Two years passed away, and the gentleman, among many beauties who fell under his observation, never saw one who was able to drive from his memory the image of the fair unknown. Her he had looked for in all societies, in all the haunts of the fair and gay, to no purpose. At the expiry of these two years, he chanced again to be in Glasgow; and in passing one day along the streets, he again saw, to his great delight, the features and the form which had formerly impressed his mind so deeply. Determined not to lose sight of the lady as he had done before, he followed closely in her footsteps, and saw her direct her course once more towards the Trongate. No shop, however, was entered on this occasion. The lady, passing up before her admirer’s eyes to the coach-stand, entered the Perth coach, which was preparing to start, and in a few minutes was driven, with her chance compamions, out of sight.

“So 1′ cried the gentleman to himself, “here is some clue ! But how uncertain a one ! since I know neither name nor anything else about this apparition which has a second time dazzled me !” It chanced, however, that the gentleman belonged himself to Perthshire; and therefore, as soon as he could conclude his business in Glasgow, he posted home, in the hope that, by diligent personal search in the old city of St Johnstoun, he might fall in with his nameless mistress. This gentleman was no other than Mr Grant of Glendale, whose property you have mentioned to-day. Every day for many weeks, after returning to Glendale, did Mr Grant ride into Perth, and, on horseback or on foot, wander up and down the streets. The second glimpse of the young lady had revived the original impression with increased force. All was in vain for a time; his eye never lighted on the face it sought. At last, while standing, on one of these visits, in a bookseller’s shop, the individual he was in quest of came in, and inquired for a book. Mr Grant’s heart beat quickly while the object of his admiration stood beside him; and the instant she left the place, he inquired of the bookseller if he knew her. The reply was, “Perfectly well. She is the niece of two respectable ladies, who conduct a boarding-school close at hand.” “Are you upon visiting terms with these ladies 2″ asked Mr Grant, almost incapable of concealing his agitation. ‘ I am, sir, replied the bookseller; “they visit my family frequently.” “I am most anxious,” said Mr Grant, “to meet these ladies. Would you oblige me by inviting them on an i. day, and including me in the party ” The bookseller, proud of such an honour from a man of Mr Grant’s station, assented readily, and fixed the party for the following day. It is a curious circumstance, that the young lady whom Mr Grant thus tracked out, and identified in his own mind with the lady he had seen in Glasgow two years before, was really not the same person—not Mary Penman. She was Miss Penman’s sister, however, and bore a striking resemblance to her. Mr Grant, on seeing them together at the bookseller’s party, discovered his mistake at once; and, though grateful for the similarity which had been so strangely serviceable to him, he almost wondered how any form or face could supply the place in his eye of that which had first charmed him. Throughout the evening he attached himself closely to Mary, and was delighted to find her mind in every respect equal to her personal advantages. It is unnecessary now to linger over the story. A short time after this meeting, the aunts of Miss Penman received Mr Grant with pleasure as their niece’s avowed suitor, his character being as honourable and excellent as his circumstances were above their highest expectations. The consent of the parents was in such a case easily obtained, and Mr Grant and Miss Penman were married within a few months after their meeting in Perth. The marriage,” said the traveller to me, in conclusion, “has been, I understand, an exceedingly happy one. Many a time have I heard these circumstances which I have now related, from old Mr Penman, whom I always call upon, though he has now retired from the business which first led to our acquaintance.” “And the second daughter, sir, what has become of her ?” “She now resides with her sister, and is, it is said, about to be married to a younger brother of Mr Grant, an officer in the army.” So, reader, after all, my speculations were neither romantic nor absurd ; that is to say, not absurd at all, and not too romantic to be natural or true. In fact, it turns out that there is much more romance about Glendale than I had imagined. The true sometimes goes beyond the fanciful, and is often the most untrue in appearance, as must be well known to many, even from their own experience of the affairs of daily life.

THE BLACKSMITii’S BOTTLE. A BLAcks Mith, in extensive business, had a bottle that held exactly a pint, and in the large village where he resided, it was soon known in its various trips to the stores as an exact guage for that quantity, and on its appearance for replenishing, was filled without recourse to the measure. This bottle became celebrated. Eighteen years it performed the drudgery of being the medium of conveying the ruinous beverage to the owner and his workmen. During this long course of service, the shop in which it was so conspicuous an appendage, was three several times consumed by fire, but each time the bottle was found among the ruins uninjured. Phoenix-like it rose, and was taken again into active service. It was kept in motion like a weaver’s shuttle; and such zealous devotees, at the bacchanalian altar, were its possessors, that it has been known to convey Fount EEN shi LLINGs worth of the poison IN A sing LE DAY to the occupants of the shop. The bottle has survived its owner, who has recently passed into the grave at the age of sixty, a veteran toper; although he originally possessed a constitution, that, under different habits, promised to carry him to the period attained by Inany a temperate pilgrim, that of eighty years or more : and instead of competence to his survivors, has left the little bottle, emptied of its contents, as their only legacy. This veteran bottle has been the medium of conveying more wealth from its owner and his workmen, than would have sufficed to purchase the most extensive and valuable farm the country can boast of. As well might the occupants of the shop have heaped up coals on their forge, and put their utmost exertions in exercise

-upon their bellows to put out the fire, as to undertake to quench alcoholic thirst with ardent spirits. The more frequent the recurrence to the little bottle for supplies, the more powerful is the desire to embrace it again and again; and the more frequent the embrace, the greater and more certain the necessity of return.

Are there not many more little bottles that are con. veying the wealth, by daily, small, certain, and sure steps, out of the possession of the owners, and pouring into their systems a tide of ruin which will never cease to flow, and which will finally overwhelm them in a destruction that has eternity for its duration ?

[The above is from the Irish Temperance and Literary Gazette, a cheap newspaper, recently established in Dublin for the promotion of temperance among all classes of the people. Publications of this description, in general, commit the serious error of attacking the practice of drinking spirituous fluids too broadly and coarsely—we should almost say, ill-naturedly. This does no good. Drunkards are a species of lunatics—their craving for liquor is a kind of mental dcrangement; they should therefore be treated precisely as madmen; gently, and with a humane consideration of their infirmities. We hope this useful miscellany will not fall into the same blunder.]


OUR readers are most probably aware, that the furs with which the British and European markets are supplied, are chiefly brought from North America. When Canada was a province of France, the colonists of that nation carried on an extensive and lucrative fur trade, and the British, eager to participate in so advantageous a traffic, established, so early as the year 1670, a company, termed the Hudson’s Bay Company, which exists under the same name till the present day, and has always possessed a large share of the traffic. Numerous other companies have sprung up from time to time with the same views; of which the NorthWest, the North American, and the Columbian Companies, have been the most important and successful. In all these establishments, the natives of America are the principal collectors of the furs, which they barter for arms, and such other commodities as civilised nations can alone manufacture. It would be useless to enter into the particular history of these several companies. Only two, indeed, properly speaking, now exist; the Hudson’s Bay Company having been of late years incorporated with the North-West one. The shareholders of this establishment are almost all of them British merchants, resident in London. With respect to the other companies, the North American was composed of a body of New York merchants, and the Columbian likewise was supported by the inhabitants of the United States. The latter of these companies confined its operations to the Mississippi and St Peter’s River, while the American company held possession of the trade on the Upper Mississippi, Missouri, and the great lakes. After existing separately for many years, these establishnemts were united, and still continue so. The Hudson’s Bay Company, again, as its name implies, trades in the more northern regions of the new world, occupying with its numerous branches and stations, the whole range of country between the lakes and the arctic

sea. Private adventurers, and smaller firms, are to

be found, besides, engaged in many quarters in the fur trade, but it can only be carried on efficiently by an enlarged combination both of men and capital. It is from this cause, rather than from privileges and charters, that the large companies have always enjoyed a monopoly, which smaller associations, rising now and then, could never disturb. Lord Selkirk and Sir Alexander Mackenzie have both left full descriptions, from personal observation, of the manner in which the details of fur-dealing are conducted ; and though some time has elapsed since these accounts were written, the plan of operations continues unchanged till the present hour. During Sir Alexander’s connection with the trade in Canada, the North-West Company were in the habit of penetrating to the great distance of four thousand miles to the westward of Montreal. In the service of the establishment were fifty clerks, seventy-one interpreters, and one thousand one hundred and twenty canoe men. A great number of these individuals were Indians, or halfbreeds, and their wives and children, who generally accompany the expeditions, amounted to about seven hundred persons. This great body of people embarked every spring, in different divisions, in slight canoes of bark, upon rivers newly freed from the ice, and coursed along them, encountering at every step difficulties and dangers, from rocks, rapids, and other natural obstacles. The slender boats were always heavily laden with provisions for the party, and goods of various kinds, particularly arms and clothing, to exchange for the furs. On reaching Lake Superior, where the company had their chief winter stations, the expedition met parties who had spent the winter there, engaged in collecting the furs, and two months were spent in the settlement of debts and other affairs. The furs were then packed in August, and embarked in a portion of the canoes for Montreal: while the remainder proceeded, with the articles necessary for the traffic, to different posts in the Indian country, there to remain in log-huts for the winter, and collect a fresh stock of skins. Sir Alexander Mackenzie spent many years of his life in this employment, and made those discoveries respecting the geography of the regions to the north-west of the lakes, which revived the prospect of a north-west passage. The annual quantity of skins collected by the North

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West Fur Company, during Sir Alexander’s connection with it, is stated by him as follows:–Skins of the beaver, 106,000; the bear, 2100; the fox, 5500; the otter, 4600 ; the musgreash, 17,000 ; the marten, 32,000; the mink, 1800; the lynx, 6000; the wolverine, 600; the fisher, 1650; the racoon, 100; the wolf, 3800; the elk, 700; the deer, 1950. All these skins are brought to Britain, before being sent, either in a dressed or undressed condition, to the continental market. The purposes to which the different kinds of skins are put are exceedingly various, only a few of them being actually used as furs in clothing. Beaverskins, for example, are in this country devoted nowa-days almost entirely to the manufacture of hats. One portion, besides, of an animal’s fur, is applied to purposes which the remainder is inapplicable to ; and hence, in order to distinguish these different parts of the same animal’s skin, new names are often bestowed on them. Thus the furs best known and most valued in this country, are ermine, lynx, sable, fitch, American squirrel, chinchella, and silver bear, some of which are derived from animals mentioned in Sir Alexander Mackenzie’s list, while others are from animals which do not appear to have been then in use in the trade. Of all these furs, ermine is the finest, and one of the most expensive. A skin, purely white in the body, and black at the end of the tail, is considered as of the best quality. Many attempts, of course, are made to imitate ermine, by dyeing inferior skins. Fitch, sable, and lynx, are the most durable of furs, and bear a high o: The squirrel and chinchella furs are exceedingly elegant, but do not last very long. They are of a greyish tint. Fine bear-skins are of great value in the fur trade, and are manufactured into articles of much beauty as well as durability. It ought to be mentioned, that the fur companies trade extensively in buffalo-skins, though no furs are derived from any animal of that class. An immense number of animals of other kinds are also frequently killed in the arctic regions, the bodies of which serve as food to the hunting parties. A party of eighty men killed and consumed, in one winter, ninety thousand white partridges, and twenty-five thousand hares. The friths and shores of Hudson’s Bay are stocked with the grampus, seal, narwal, sea-horse, and other creatures, of which many hundreds are killed annually, and their skins, particularly those of the seal tribe, added to the general store. We may state here the account given by Mackenzie of the time occupied in the fur trade, before the neces..i. exchanges are completed, and the skins brought to London. Though the years alluded to are in the last century, the system pursued at present is, as we have already mentioned, in every respect the same:— The orders for goods are sent to Britain, 25th October 1796.-The goods arrive in Montreal, June 1797. —They are made up in the course of the summer and winter, and are sent from Montreal, May 1798, to the Indian country, and are exchanged for furs which come to Montreal, September 1798. — The furs are then to. and shipped for London, where they arrive in ay or June 1799. It is scarcely necessary to say, that, as this system goes on continually, there is an annual supply of furs in the British market. Our readers, perhaps, may be anxious to know something more respecting the consequences of this trade to the natives, or Indians, as they are termed, of the northern regions of America. They are the principal hunters of the animals whose skins are used, though those servants of the fur companies, who spend the winter in remote log-stations, are continually end likewise in this pursuit. Next to guns, hatchets, nives, powder, and other hunting implements, the articles coveted by the Indians are coarse blue and red cloth, and fine scarlet, coarse cottons, hoes, beads, vermilion, ribbons, kettles, &c. The course of a private trader to the North-West is thus given in the American Encyclopaedia (Article Fur Trade), and we fear that the remarks made regarding the effects of the intercourse on the natives are but too true :—“The trader starts from Michillimackinac, or St Louis, late in the summer, with a Mackinac boat, laden with goods. He takes with him an interpreter, commonly a half-breed, and four or five engagées (boatmen or servants). On his arrival at his wintering ground, his men build a store for the goods, an apartment for him, and another for themselves. These buildings are of rough logs, . plastered with mud, and roofed with ash or linden slabs. The chimneys are of clay; and though these habitations are rude in appearanee, there is much comfort in them. This done, the trader gives a great portion of his merchandise to the Indians on credit. These credits are from twenty to two hundred dollars in amount, according to the reputation of the applicant as a hunter. It is expected that the debtor will pay in the following spring, though, as many neglect this part of the business, the trader is compelled to rate his goods very high. Thus the honest pay for the dishonest. The skins are dried with care, being occasionally exposed to the sun, and rubbed with salt and alum, to keep the hair attached. This is partly done by the natives, and partly by the purchasers. Ardent spirits were never much used among the remote tribes. It is on the frontier, and in the immediate vicinity of the white settlers, that the Indians get enough to do them Physical injury, though in the interior the traders, in the heat of opposition, employ strong liquors to induce the savages to commit outrage, or to defraud their

creditors. By this means the moral principle of the aborigines is overcome, and often eradicated. Spirit is commonly introduced into their country in the form of high wines, they being less bulky, and easier of transportation, than liquors of lower proof. Indians, after having once tasted, become extravagantly fond of them, and will make any sacrifice, or commit any crime, to obtain them. An interpreter is necessary to a fur trader, whether he speaks the language of the tribe with which he deals, or not. It is the duty of an interpreter to take charge of the house, and carry on the business in the absence of the principal. He also visits the camps, and watches the debtors. In the prairie regions, dog-sledges are used for the transportation of skins and goods in winter. The sledge is merely a flat board turned up in front like the runner of a sleigh. The dogs are harnessed and driven tandem, and their strength and powers of endurance are very great.” The same writer goes on to remark, “The fur trade demoralises all engaged in it. The way in which it operates on the Indians has been already partially explained. As to the traders, they are, generally, ignorant men, in whose breasts interest overcomes religion and morals. As they are beyond the reach of the law (at least in the remote regions), they disregard it, and often commit or instigate actions which they would blush to avow in civilised society. In consequence of the fur trade, the buffalo has receded hundreds of miles beyond his former haunts. Formerly an Indian killed a buffalo, made garments of the skin, and fed on the flesh Now he finds that a blanket is lighter and more convenient than a buffalo robe, and kills two or three animals with whose skins he may purchase it. To procure a gun, he must kill ten. The same causes operate to destroy the other animals. Some few tribes hunt on the different parts of their grounds alternately, and so preserve the game, but § far the greater part of the aborigines have no suc regulations.” Regarding the evils of competition in the fur trade, Lord Selkirk relates many circumstances strongly corroborative of the observations just quoted. When the North-West …} was threatened with the competition of a new establishment, the murder of a gentleman belonging to the latter was actually traced to the instigation of the European or white servants of the old firm. Competition, however, has now in a great measure ceased, and it is to be hoped that the evils referable to it have died with it. The American Company and the Hudson’s Bay Company have the trade now in a great measure to themselves, and their business lies in quarters so far asunder, that their rivalry can produce no mischief. The animals which supply the furs used in the civilised world, are certainly becoming every year more scarce. The plan followed by some of the native tribes of hunting in different grounds every season, is the only one, if it could be followed, capable of preserving a supply. Private trading would be a great obstacle to this, were there no other.


THE undue preference long given to Greek and Roman literature in education, is rapidly declining, and in this we recognise the indisputable progress of reason. From time to time, however, attempts are made by the patrons of these studies to maintain their importance; and among the numerous fallacies by which they are defended, one of the latest has been the argument that Greek and Roman literature constitutes the true education of a gentleman. It is said that the ancient classics not only improve the memory, expand the intellect, and sharpen the judgment, but that they communicate to the mind that nameless grace—that sympathy with all that is delicate and exalted—that high-toned dignity and vigour, which must be acquired by all those individuals of humble parentage, who, by the exercise of their talents and their virtues, aspire to obtain an exalted station. Seminaries for Greek and Latin, therefore, it is said, ought to be supported as the places in which embryo gentlemen may meet and associate with embryo gentlemen, while their minds are yet delicate and their manners uncontaminated, that they may preserve their quality pure. They ought to be maintained also, it is added, by parents in the middle ranks, whose breasts are fired by a laudable ambition of promoting the rise of their children in the world ; because in such schools only can they obtain access to those examples of noble bearing, and realise that refinement, tact, and mental delicacy, which they must possess before they can reach the summit of social honour. This argument is a grand appeal to the vanity and the ignorance of those to whom it is addressed. We yield to no class of educationists in our estimate of the value of acuteness and vigour of mind, combined with taste, delicacy, and refinement of manners; but we differ widely from the patrons of ancient literature in our estimate of the best means of imbuing the youthful mind with these qualities. We regard the qualities themselves as the results of two causes—First, the decided ascendancy of the moral feelings over the lower passions of our nature; and, secondly, the vigorous activity of a well-trained and truly enlightened intellect. The basis of all real refinement lies in pure and generous affections, just and upright sentiments; with

Fa lively sensibility to the intrinsic excellence of beauty and grace, both physical and mental, wherever these exist. Now, we humbly, yet confidently, maintain, that the pages of classic literature are not those in which these dispositions are presented in their strongest colours and most inviting forms to youthful minds, or in a way calculated to engage their sympathies, captivate their imaginations, or subdue their understandings in their favour. On the contrary, many ancient works are remarkable for the o: of their subjects—veiled only occasionally by brilliancy of fancy and playfulness of wit, and thereby rendered more deleterious and seductive to the youthful mind ; for the base selfishness of their heroes ; for the profligacy of their men of rank and fashion; for an utter contempt of the people; and, although among their philosophers and sages, some truly great men are to be found, yet their writings do not constitute the burthen of classical literature taught in schools; nor are their manners in any respect patterns which could be followed with advantage by young men of modern times. In Greek and Roman literature there is an almost entire destitution of interest in mankind as a progressive race ; the idea seems never to have entered the imaginations of ancient authors, that the day could ever come when slavery should cease—when the common people should be enlightened and refined—and when social institutions should be arranged not for the advantage of a patrician class, but to promote the general enjoyment of all. In short, scarcely one of the more important practical principles of Christianity, enlightened policy, or true philanthropy, is to be discovered in their pages.

No system of education which rests on such a basis, can impart true refinement to the youthful mind. It affords no adequate stimulus for the purest and noblest sentiments. It thus trains men up to contemn and stigmatise the immense majority of their fellowmen, and to brand them with one single comprehensive epithet of dislike, embodying so completely every form of offensiveness, as to leave room for neither discrimination nor exception in its application to the people —the word “vulgarity.” “Odi profanum vulgus et arceo”—I hate the profane vulgar, and drive them away—is a maxim too easily imbibed from the classic page.

We have not space at present in our columns to enter on the question of the effects of classical literature on the intellectual faculties. Suffice it to say, that we are far from depreciating the value of the study of Greek and Latin. As a mental exercise, it ranks, in our estimation, along with painting, music, poetry, and sculpture. It is one of the fine arts, and is calculated, when pursued as such, to elevate, improve, and benefit the taste and intellect: but as we would not make the fine arts the staple of education for legislators, and citizens of the world, neither would we make Greek and Latin the grand objects to which the years of training of our children should be chiefly devoted.—Scotsman.


MERCANTILE firms are sometimes as long-lived as landed families. Longman and Company, the London booksellers, have trade catalogues of their house, dated as far back as 1704. In 1730, the Longman of that day was so important in the trade, as to be one of the publishers of the folio Universal History. In the present firm, there are a father and son of this name, the lineal descendants of the founder of the house. Rivington and Company, so distinguished for their publications connected with the church, are said to be of the seventeenth century. In Edinburgh, a family of Nories has been concerned in the business of housepainting since the beginning of the last century. In the Scots Courant for July 27, 1711, there occurs the following advertisement:—“That all sorts of the finest arras hanging, representing forestry, history, hunting, fields, &c. done upon canvass, which looks as well as any true arras, and better than any mock arras whatsomever, that comes from London or elsewhere, are painted and sold at as easy a rate as any in North Britain, by James Norie and Roderick Chalmers, about the middle of Dickson’s Close, opposite the Bishop’s Land, where all sorts of house-paintings are likewise performed by them.” The James Norie here mentioned practised landscape painting, and a number of his performances in that line still exist on panels above mantel-pieces and doors, within the houses in the Old Town of Edinburgh, having been executed by him, as tradition avers, by way of compliment to those who had employed him to do the common work of his trade upon the walls. Runciman, the distinguished artist, was apprenticed to this or a later member of their family. Robert Norie and Sonstill form acopartnery in the practice of house-painting in the Scottish capital. The business now carried on under the firm of Eagle and Henderson, seed-merchants in Edinburgh, is upwards of a century old, during which time it has always been conducted in one place. It was originated by Mr Archibald Eagle, who died at an advanced age many years ago. In the Caledonian Mercury for February 7, 1746, occurs the following advertisement:—“Archibald Eagle, merchant in Smith’s Land, opposite Blackfriars’ Wynd, and seedsman to the Honourable Society for improving Agriculture, has just now brought from the best places abroad, a curious collection of new and fresh #. and grass-seeds, together with a variety of

ower-seeds, and several kinds of tree-seeds, especially the beech-mast, that’s highly esteemed for its value: so that all who have given commissions for such seeds, may immediately call for them ; and all others that want, may be #on. to their satisfaction, at as cheap and low rates as any where else in town ; likewise may be had every sort of gardeners’ utensils, as also the finest Durham and Isle of May mustard, new Kentish hops, lintseed, and all manner of falcongraith, &c.” In an upper floor of the large building in which Mr Eagle carried on business, the Honourable Misses Murray, daughters of Lord Stormont, and sisters to the Earl of Mansfield, had taken up their abode. A young female friend of theirs from Perthshire, coming to visit them, chanced to enter Mr Eagle’s shop, to inquire the way up stairs; and having thus afforded him an opportunity of performing towards her a common act of civility, an acquaintance took place betwixt them, which, notwithstanding some family pride on her side, was in time ripened into a matrimonial union. As his widow, this lady carried on the business for many years, till it fell under the active management of the late Mr Alexander Henderson, Lord Provost of the city in 1825, whose sons are now in possession of it. In Edinburgh there must be many instances of long-descended business, with which the present writer is not acquainted. The extensive upholstery business carried on by the heirs of the late Mr William Trotter, dates from an early period of the last century; and the bank of Sir Wiliian Forbes and Company was established by the father of the late Mr Coutts, upwards of a century ago.

[From the Comic Almanack for 1837.]

“Up at six.-Told Mrs D. I’d got wery pressing business at Woolwich, and off to Old Fish Street, where a wery sporting breakfast, consisting of jugged hare, partridge pie, tallyho-sauce, gunpowder tea, and-cattera, vos laid out in Figgins’s warehouse; as he didn’t choose Mrs F. and his younghinfant family to know he vos a-goin to hexpose himself with fire-harms-After a good blowout, sallied forth with our dogs and guns, namely, Mrs Wiggins’s French poodle, Miss Selina Higgins’s real Blenheim spaniel, young Hicks’s ditto, Mrs Figgins’s pet bull-dog, and my little thoroughbred tarrier; all vich had been smuggled to Figgins’s warehouse the night before, to perwent domestic disagreeables.—Got into a Paddington bus at the bank.-Row with tiger, who hobjected to take the dogs, unless paid hextra. Hicks said we’d a rights to take ’em, and quoted the hact.—Tiger said the hact only allowed parcels carried on the lap.–Accordingly tied up the dogs in our pocket-handkerchiefs, and carried them and the guns on our knees.—Got down at Paddington ; and, after glasses round. valked on till ve got into the fields, to a place vich Higgins had baited with corn and penny rolls every day for a month past. Found a covey of birds feeding. Iogs wery eager, and barked beautiful. Birds got up, and turned out to be pigeons. Debate As to vether pigeons vos gaine or not. Hicks said they vos made game on by the new hact. Fired accordingly, and half killed two or three, vich half fell to the ground; but suddenly got up again and flow off. Reloaded, and pigeons came round again. Let fly a second time, and tumbled two or three more over, but didn’t bag any. Tired at last, and turned in to the Dog and Partridge to get a snack. Landlord laughed, and asked how ve vos hoff for tumblers. Didn’t understand him, but got some waluable hinformation about loading our guns; vich he strongly recominended mixing the powder and shot well up together before putting into the barrel; and showed Figgins how to charge his percussion; vich, being Figgins’s first attempt under the new system, he had movie the mistake of putting a charge of copper caps into the barrel instead of sticking one of ’em atop of the touch-hole.—Left the Dog and Partridge, and took a north-easterly direction, so as to have the adwantage of the vind on our backs. Dogs getting wery riotous, and refusing to answer to Figgins’s whistle, vich had unfortunately got a pea in it.—Getting over an edge into a field, I licks’s gun haccidentally hexploded, and shot Wiggins behind ; and my gun going off hunexpectedly at the same moment, singed away von of my viskers and blinded von of my heyes.—Carried Wiggins back to the inn : dressed his wound, and rubbed my heye with cherry brandy, and my visker with bear’s grease.—Sent poor W. home by a short stage, and resumed our sport.—Heard sonne pheasants crowing by the side of a plantation. Itesolved to stop their cockadoodledooing, so set off at a jog trot. Passing thro’ a field of bone manure, the dogs unfortunately set to work upon the bones, and ve couldn’t get ’em to go a step farther at no price. Got within gun-shot of two of the birds, vich Higgins said they vos two game cocks: but Hicks, who had often been to Westminster Pit, said no sitch thing; as game cocks had got short square tails, and smooth necks, and long military spurs; and these had got long curly tails, and necks all over hair, and scarce any spurs at all. Shot at ’em as pheasants, and believe ve killed ’em both ; but, hearing some orrid screams come out of the plantation immediately hafter, we all took to our eels and ran avay vithout stopping to pick either of ’em up.—After running about two miles, Hicks called out to stop, as he had observed a covey of wild ducks feeding on a pond by the road-side. Got behind a haystack and shot at the ducks, vich swam avay hunder the trees. Figgins wolunteered to scramble down the bank, and hook out ae dead uns with the but-hend of his gun. Unfortunately bank failed, and poor F. tumbled up to his neck in the pit. Made a rope of our pocket handkerchiefs, got it round his neck, and dragged him to the Dog and Doublet, vere ve had him put to bed, and dried. Wery sleepy with the hair and hexercise, so after dinner took a nap a-piece.—Woke by the landlord coming in to know if ve vos the gentlemen as had shot the humfortunate nursemaid and child in Mr Smithville’s plantation. Swore ve knew nothing about it, and vile the landlord was gone to deliver our message, got out of the back window, and ran avay across the fields. At the end of a mile, came suddenly upon a strange sort of bird, vich Hicks declared to be the cock-of-the-woods. Sneaked behind him and killed himn. Turned out to be a peacock. Took to our heels again, as ve saw the lord of the manor and two of his servants vith bludgeons coming down the gravel walk towards us. Found it getting late, so agreed to shoot our way home. Tidn’t know vere ve vos, but kept going on.—At last got to a sort of plantation, vere vo saw a great many birds perching about. Gave ’em a broadside, and brought down several. Loaded again, and killed another brace. Thought we should make a good day’s work of it at last, and was preparing to charge again, ven two of the new police came and took us up in the name of the ZoloroRical Society, in whose gardens it seems we had been shooting. Handed off to the Public II office, and wery heavily fined, and wery sewerey reprimanded by the sitting magistrate.—Coming Away, met by the landlord of the Day and Doublet, who charged us with running off vithout paying our shot; and Mr Smithville, who accused us of manslaughtering his nursemaid and child: and, their wounds not having been declared immortal, ve vos

sent to spend the night in prison—and thus ended my last First of September.”


A great man is a result, and not a cause; he is created, if we may so speak, by the spirit of the age which he embodies and represents. But on this subject we cannot do better than quote the words of Victor Cousin –“A great man, whatever may be the kind of his greatness, whatever the epoch of the world in which he makes his appearance, comes to represent an idea, such an idea, and not any other idea, at the precise time when that idea is worth representing, and neither before it nor after it; consequently he appears when he ought to appear, and he disappears when nothing is left for him to do : he is born and he dics in due season. When nothing great is to be done, the existence of a great man is impossible. In fact, what is a great in an o’ He is the representative of a power not his own ; for ali power merely individual is pitiful, and no man yields to another man: he yields only to the representative of a general power. When, therefore, no such general power exists, or when it exists no longer; when it fails or falls into decay, what strength can its representative possess 2 Hence also no human power can cause a great man to be born or die before his hour is coine; it cannot be displayed, it can neither be advanced nor put back, for he existed only because he had his work to do. and he exists no more, only because nothing is left for him to do, and to wish to continue his existence would be to wish to continue a part which has been acted to the end and exhausted. A soldier who had seated himself upon a throne was once told : “Sire, the education of your son should be watched over with great attention ; he must be educated so that he may replace you.” “Replace me!’ answered he, ‘ I could not replace myself; I am the child of circumstances.’ T he salue mail was deeply sensible that the power which animated him was not his own ; that it was lent him for a specific purpose, and until a certain hour, the approach of which he could neither hasten nor retard. It is said that he was somewhat given to fatalism. You will remark that all great men have been more or less fatalists; the error is in the form, not at the foundation of the thought. They feel that, in fact, they do not exist on their own account; they possess the consciousness of an immen-e power; and, being unable to ascribe the honour of it to themselves, they refer it to a higher power, which uses them as instruments in accordance with its own ends. Not only are great men given to fatalism, they are also addicted to superstitions peculiar to themselves. Hence also it comes to pass that great men, who in action show decision and an admirable ardour, often hesitate and slumber before they are roused to action; the sentiment of necessity, the evidence of their mission, must strike them forcibly ; they seem to feel that until then they should act only as individuals, and that their power is not present with them.”—Foreign Quarterly Review.


The exercise of the hobby-horse is pernicious to health, because, the head of the rider being farthest from the centre of motion, the blood is propelled thither by centrifugal force, and, accumulating, produces dizziness, and tends to apoplexy. The common rocking-cradle is unhealthy from the same cause, for the head of the child, being raised on the pillow, is farther from the centre of motion than the rest of the body, and, therefore, as before, the blood, from the motion of the cradle, will have a tendency upwards. Swings and swinging-cradles are on the contrary favourable to health, because in them the head is nearer to the centre of motion than the other parts of the body, and the blood will consequently have a tendency from it. Lees’s Catcchism of Natural Philosophy.—[When science can teach such valuable truths even to nursery-maids, how utterly beyond all endurance appears every kind of opposition which can be made to its diffusion J

A RUIN ED Trades M.A.N.

Some years ago, a Mr Smith, a young gentleman liolding the office of ensign in a marching regiment, being invited to a ball at Turnham Green, ordered a pair of dancing-pumps from Mr IIobv, of St James’s Street. By some accident the pumps were not finished in time, and Ensign Smith was disappointed. The next day, in a furious military passion, he stalked into Hoby’s shop, and desired to see Mr Hoby himself. The autocrat of bootmakers condesecnded to appear. Ensign Smith first eyed him savagely, and, curling his mustachios (I beg pardon—he did no such thing, he had none to curl, for in those days it had not becn discovered how much courage, virtue, vigour, dignity, and resolution, dwell in a little hair upon the upper lip). Nevertheless, he eyed him most savagely, and thus began :-‘‘Mr Hoby, sir, I desire to know, I wish to understand—tell me, sir, directly, why my pumps were not sent home, or I will withdraw my custom—I will, by heaven, I will.” The astonished Hoby said he would inquire, and begged the gentleman to be pacified. “Pacified, sir!” replied the ensign, “I’ll be hanged if I do. Iłring lne my bill, I’ll never deal with you any rhore. I withdraw my custom this moment —this very moment ” The disconsolate bootmaker withdrew two steps, and called in is foreman. “Mr Jones,” said he, “close the shutters, shut up the shop, discharge the workmen, and lock the door—I am ruined, ruined irretrievably—Ensign Smith has withdrawn his custom “-London newspaper.


The Romans not only rewarded those who married, but decreed penalties against men who remained in a state of celibacy. Fines were first levied upon unmarried men about the year of Rome 350; and when pecuniary forfeitures failed to ensure their obedience to these connubial edicts, their contumacious neglect of the fair sex was punished by degradation from their tribe. Celibacy continued, however, to gain ground in Rome; and, to counteract its effects, we find that, in the year 518 from the foundation of the city, the censors had recourse to the extraordinary measure of obliging all the young unmarried men to pledge themselves on oath to marry within a certain time. In Babylon, an auction of unmarried ladies used to take place annually. The virgins of marriageable ages, in every district, were assembled on a certain day of every year. The most beautiful was first put up, and the man who bade the largest sum of money gained possession of her. The second in personal appearance followed; and the purchasers gra‘ified themselves with handsome wives according to the depth of their purses. When all the beautiful virgins were sold, the crier ordered the most deformed to stand up; and after he had openly demanded who would marry her with a small sum, she was at length adjudged to the man who would be satisfied with the least; and in this manner, the money arising from the sale of the handsome women served as a portion to those who were either of disagreeable looks, or that had any other fault or imperfection.


Milton rose at four in the morning during summer, and at five in the winter. He wore almost invariably a dress of coarse grey cloth, studied till noon, dined frugally, walked with a guide, and in the evening sang, accompanying himself on some instrument. !!e understood harmony, and had a fine voice. He for a long time addicted himself to the practice of fencing. To judge by Paradise Lost, he must have been passionately fond of music and the perfunre of flowers. He supped off five or six olives and a littie water, retired to rest at nine, and composed at night in bed. When he haul made some verses, he sang, and dictated to his wife or daughters. On sunny days he sat on a bench at his door. He lived in Artillery Walk, leading to Bunhill Fields.-Chateaubriand’s New Pork—Sketches of English Literature.


In this number, time and custom bring before us the duty of saying a few words respecting ourselves. All who, from whatever cause, feel any interest in the present work, will be glad to learn that it continues to prosper. The united impressions of London and Edinburgh, for immediate sale, which at the beginning of last year amounted to fifty-eight, have now advanced to sixty-two thousand : including new editions of past numbers, the quantity printed in a year makes about sirty-five thousand weekly. So strong a proof of undiminished vitality is the more pleasing, as the number of works following our plan, with greater or less distinction as to matter, and supported by public or corporate bodies of men, is now very great—much greater than ever it was—so that the claims of this comparatively eldern sheet, depending, as it does, on the exertions of two private individuals, must in many cases have yielded to the superior attractions of its neighbours. That, under such circumstances, our aggregate circulation should have increased, seems to imply that the work is constantly finding its way into new fields of sale.

Thus liberally encouraged by the public, we encounter with cheerfulness the labours of another year, determined to intermit no exertion, to overlook no expedient, which may appear calculated to sustain the humble reputation, as an amusing and instructive miscellany, which the work seems already to have attained. While adverting to the success of one of the cheap miscellanies, we may be allowed to express our satisfaction that these works, as a class, have survived all the means put in force for their destruction—both the outcry of interested parties against them, on the score of their tending to injure the interests of literature, and the sneers and contumelies of those who conceived, or professed to conceive, that dignity and merit were inseparable from costliness. It is pleasant to find that many of those who at first denounced these modest disseminators of popular science and literature, as tending to do harm amongst the lower orders of the people, are now so far converted from their error, as to be entering upon the same career, with professions of extreme anxiety that the poor should be by such means enlightened. In thus alluding to the establishment of the democracy of three-halfpence beside the respectable middle classes of sixpence and a shilling, and the aristocracy of half-a-crown and six shillings, we may remind our readers, that, besides the literary labours of the Editors, the Journal has, for some time, presented articles from writers whom public approbation has stamped as of the first class, and that a very large proportion of the matter of the work, such as it is, is of original composition. If, indeed, we could allow ourselves to indulge in a feeling of triumph on anypoint connected with the work, it would be in this—in having led the way to show that the great body of the people, by combining to give sale to a publication meeting their pecuniary circumstances, could secure as much intellectual service as could formerly be obtained only at a price which placed the solacements of literature beyond their reach.

It only remains for us to advert to a series of works, forming parts of a complete Course of Education, physical, moral, and intellectual—theoretical as well as practical—in which we have now been engaged for upwards of twelve months. Our ordinary avocations in conducting the Journal, have permitted us to bring out six separate treatises in the series since last January, making, with the two previously published, eight disferent works, each applicable to sente peculiar department of juvenile instruction. The very rapid sale of several large impressions of each of these volumes, and their introduction into many schools throughout the United Kingdom, are accepted by us as a satisfactory testimony of public approval, and will induce us to proceed, with all the energy we can spare from other pursuits, to carry on the Course to the extent originally contemplated.

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COUNTRY TOWN SKETCHES. THE aspect of some of our little quiet provincial boroughs, basking, as it were, in the sunshine of a summer day, is very prepossessing. To the dwellers in large cities, or the inhabitants of the woods and fields, a small country town forms equally an object of curiosity : the latter wonder how any body can be found to live constantly in a town at all, and the city folk, how they can live in a small town; and certainly small towns are to active-minded persons more suited for casual visits than for a permanent abode. There are, however, many shades of difference between them; some give an idea of laziness, some of dullness, and some of quietude only; while some are dirty, and some are bustling—characteristics which strongly impress themselves upon the mind of a traveller, even should his sojourn be limited to the change of horses at an inn. In the metropolis, the spectator, as he surveys the crowd which throngs in every thoroughfare, wonders how habitations can be found for the masses of people which seem to choke up the avenues, while, in country towns, he suspects, in spite of some slight indications to the contrary— smoke from the chimnies, and flower-pots in the windows—that the houses are destitute of inhabitants. It seems to be a rule of etiquette among the genteeler sort never to be seen : tiers upon tiers of windows, five in a row, will stretch themselves along some substantial brick mansion, adorned with the whitest of little muslin curtains, and bright with continual cleaning; but not a head, not even the housemaid, appears at one of them. The shops are gaily set out with ribbons and gauds of the most tempting description, but they seem to possess no attraction for the belles of the place; and if there should be a group of young ladies, either lounging at the door, or looking into the windows, ten to one but they belong to the carriage at the corner of the street, which has just brought them in from the country. A knot of two or three gentlemen may sometimes be seen congregating together under the portico of the chief inn, but the ladies are infinitely more secluded. Most of them, nevertheless, contrive not only to hear, but to see, all that is going on. The smallest movement in the place becomes known by a sort of magic. An event, no matter what, occurs at the eastern extremity of the town, and all about it is known in no time at the western boundary; the rapidity with which the intelligence travels, resembling in some respects the velocity of an electrical shock, which is felt at both ends of a wire at the same instant of time. The incoming of any stranger is, in particular, a matter of extraordinary interest; it is as good as meat and drink—bed, board, and washing, for a week —to half a hundred gossips, who are not long in ascertaining his pedigree up to the days of Noah, and his resources even to the odd pounds, shillings, and pence, lying in the hands of his banker. The arrival of a post-chaise is a great affair in these old-fashioned dreamy towns; and even the circumstance of the family carriage of the neighbouring squire having been seen on shopping excursions three times during the week, is a bit of news not to be despised. It is known, beyond the possibility of doubt, that there will soon be a marriage in the family of the Barringers at the Lodge; that the postman has called at the cottage of Captain Riley five times within the last fortnight with letters, some of them with large red wax seals stamped with a coat of arms—crest, a stag passant; that Miss Humphries has sported a new bonnet, which must have come from London; and that all the Creswells have gone into mourning—facts, the two latter, at least, which, but


for some extraordinary degree of vigilance, could not have transpired until the following Sunday, when the church bells would of course bring out the whole population, and, should the weather prove fine, all attired in their very best. There is generally very great diversity in the buildings of a small town: one tall mansion will have minikin neighbours on each side, little better than stalls; others are low, and occupy a large portion of ground; and some are oddly squeezed into corners, as if every inch of land was of the greatest consequence. Upon walking down the principal streets, we see through the shops, and back-parlour windows, pretty gardens filled with many-coloured flowers, or a sudden opening gives a bright glimpse of country. The rural air, and the excessive cleanliness of those shops, render them very attractive; even that of the butcher losing all its of. fensiveness in the absence of many of the appurtenances connected with the trade in larger places. The servants belonging to a provincial town form one of its curiosities; they are distinguished alike from those domesticated in the country families, and those who are found in the metropolis. The women perhaps have an advantage in the comparison; they are fresher looking, and dress quite as gaily, but in a more picturesque style; the crowns of their caps reach a higher altitude, and the ribbons are of a more gaudy description. The male servitors are, on the other hand, any thing but smart, either in appearance or manners. Their awkwardness seems to bid defiance even to the powers of a drill-serjeant; and though as much addicted as their metropolitan brethren to standing at street-doors, they never acquire the indolent lounge of the latter. If out of livery, there is no mistaking the man for the master, unless the latter be a very vulgar person indeed. Now, in London the butler is sometimes the finer looking gentleman of the two, while the footmen perform the duties of their office with a grace which seems perfectly marvellous. Nothing incommoded by their long canes, they open the carriage doors, let down the steps, and present their arms to the ladies with the greatest possible ease and facility; they glide about dressingrooms amongst the bijouterie, without raising alarm in the breasts of the beholders, performing the offices required of them with perfect command of countenance and action : the most ridiculous circumstance occurring in their presence would fail to move them to laughter, and they never speak except in the most respectful manner, and upon occasions of absolute necessity. In fact, they are so well bred in their official capacity, that it is rather a puzzle to know how they conduct themselves in private life, and whether the servants’ hall is not equally as decorous as the drawingroom. Country servants, on the contrary, find it impossible to contain their merriment when any thing ludicrous is said or done; they are loquacious upon every occasion, and, nine times out of ten, are tolerably certain of extinguishing the candles should they attempt to snuff them, and of spilling the coals out of the skuttle when called upon to make up the fire. It is but justice, however, to recollect that what may be wanting in dexterity and polish, is compensated by fidelity and attachment—virtues of greater value. The country-town servant, who brews the beer, milks the cow, works in the garden, grooms the horse, drives the pony chaise, and waits at table, forms another species of person, an active hard-working man of much respectability. But it is the show-servants of some of the superior establishments who afford the best subjects for caricature, and may generally be ranked amongst the absurdities of the place.

The Domestic Monthly: An Illustrated Magazine of Fashion …, Volume 23 (Google Books)


The fashionable real flowers of the day are lilies of the valley nestling in their own leaves, the red petals of the poinsettia half veiled in maidenhair, and white Roman hyacinths, mixed with a few violets, backed by tinted ivy. The last is used by itself in sprays, and attached to the dress by jewelled pins or brooches. Elongated initial letters, with a long pin thrust through slantwise, composed of garnets, are novel, and look warm and rich among lace and jabots, bows, bonnets, or for fastening a floral buttonhole. There is the old English initial letter without the pin and also the modern capital one, withit, and the latter is about two inches long, and the favorite. Garnets are coming into vogue very much, and go well with the rich ruby and brown shades that find such favor at present.

Boxes containing six to twelve of the imitation tortoiseshell hairpins are now sold. They are in the light and dark shade, between three and four inches in length, and are more for the loosely coiled and turned-up hair than the ordinary wire hair-pins. Longer ones are used for running through the hair and supporting the bonnet, and some of these are ornamented with steel or paste. If double pins are used, one is put in higher than the other, and if there is a chain attached it rests on the hair.

For mourning, jet beads of good size, mounted on hair-pins, are dotted about the curls or plaits at the back of the head.

Very long, thin gilt pins, with small onyx heads, are also run

through the bonnet or hat. Among the many new designs for decorative use brought out by ingenious minds, is the poodle. As this sagacious, companionable dog is still the pet of fashion, to be seen walking out in crowded thoroughfares with its master or mistress, often decorated with a gold or single bangle on one front paw, or a bow of ribbon, corresponding with the coior of its mistress’s costume, tied among its locks; so its reproduction in gold and paste is worn among lace and ribbon as a fashion of the day. As the letter weight the poodle also figures in carved ebony, and is to be seen painted on fans and the covers of blotting books. Garnet beads, strung on wire in the form of a comb, are to be seen on some of the new ruby bonnets, where they fit into the curved back, cut up to admit of the present style of hairdressing. They also edge bonnets, and are lightly strung and secured to the stems of aigrettes. With a bonnet ornamented thus, it is needless to say that the earrings and bonnet pins or brooch are en suite. Some pretty little menu-holders are of glass, backed like a mirror, about the size of a large locket, with the crest or monogram of the owner engraved in the centre. Other menu-holders have embossed silver edges, resembling cartede-visite frames; and some have handles, while others stand upright. These have recently been given as wedding gifts. Afternoon teacloths are frequently trimmed with coarse lace, worked roughly over in colored silks. Some novel ones are of cream oatmeal cloth, braided in gold. Creamy-white embossed leather enjoys the same favor as it did last winter. Unfortunately it is very costly, or all fashionable women would have their prayer-books, albums, and card-cases covered with it, especially as it wears extremely well, a little rubbing only giving it the mellow

tinge of old parchment, and tending rather to throw up the .

design. Cream leather embossed with cherubims, a little color introduced here and there, is a novelty of the season applied to the same purposes. Less costly knick-knacks for the pocket, writing, and library table are covered with smooth, deep-green leather, gilt on the edges. This year the black poodle standing sentry over our loose papers holds a hat in his teeth; is it a skit on the impecunious condition of the

summer finances? His companion is a black bear with silver paws. The wren, promoted to a stump of tree speckled with snow, has a formidable rival in the red squirrel, either on his haunches, with tail curled up over his back, or in the act of leaping from one branch of a leafless tree to another. The newest menu cards in Paris are red—a substance like ivorine in texture—and the lettering is carved out in gold. They look cheerful on a dinner-table, and the guest card matches. When white menu cards are used, they are much emblazoned in gold, red and blue. A new idea for menu cards has recently made its appearence in London in the form of simple cards, bearing a suitably-chosen quotation. Care should be taken to choose appropriate lines for the guests. The name and the written menu are inscribed on a piece of paper, and put into the two little slits provided for them on the ornamental card. Each guest should have his or her suggestive text. Young ladies do not affect much jewelry at balls; bracelets, except perhaps bangles, a half hoop of brilliants or pearls, are hardly, if ever, worn. A single row of pearls with solitaire diamond clasp is all that is worn round the throat. We speak, of course, of young unmarried girls. But fancy jeweled brooches and clasps without number are worn on the low-cut corsage, and buckles of brilliants, square, oval or round, drape the folds of the flowing tulle skirts. The tortoise-shell pins which are placed in the hair are studded with small glistening stones. There is a novel feature for decorating a dinner table, in the shape of a strip of some rich-colored velvet down the centre of the white damask cloth, which is cut out in large scallops at the edge and neatly finished. Along this bunches of red berries and white yew, or any similar berries, according to the color of the velvet, are placed, and at each corner a large spray of arbutus. The undulations of the velvet edge prevent any appearance of stiffness. The bunches can be kept in place by being slightly tacked to the velvet. Fans are of feathers, lace, straw and fine gauze; all shapes and all sizes are seen, from the smallest lace round to the huge awkward “screen” which can hardly be held in the hand. The Portia fan is as much used as ever; it still has its feather-framed, tale-telling glass, which gives it a style quite its own; this glass is now veiled by a large ostrich tip curved gracefully over its surface, and the handle is covered with satin ribbon tied in small bows at the top. The gilded palm fans are exceedingly pretty when trimmed with real flowers and lace; they are young-looking also, and usefull to boot, as the fan can be endlessly used. Moorish, Egyptian and Oriental designs are used for the popular dog-collars. Crescents of filigree gold connected by chains of cut garnet beads are comparatively cheap in price, and look especially pretty drawn tightly around a high collar of dark velvet.

The Unmarried Woman (Google Books)


N spelling out our answer to the question put to every one of us, “What is life?” we find to our surprise that though we want life to go deep, we shrink from the process. Is not the end of life character? Now, “so generous is fate” that character may be formed in many ways. Here the married and the unmarried have an equal chance and an equal responsibility.

And yet character is not altogether independent of circumstances; that is to say, certain circumstances favour one set of virtues or faults more than another. It is popularly believed that an unmarried life produces crotchets ; and a skilful novelist, whose individuals need not stand for a class, may have a right to present the crotchets of a single woman, so as to make her a very amusing creature; but can the writer who has an unvarnished tale to tell truthfully say that her crotchets are any more amusing than those of married women? How it would enliven my picture, which is painted in rather sombre colours, if I could think so! As beauty

and taste in dress no doubt attract, probably an undue

proportion of plain, ill-dressed women are left to be old maids. Such women are often laughed at by the thoughtless, but that is not on account of their crotchets. The reason that the crotchets of married women are less noticed is because they live in a home which they plan themselves, while maiden ladies have to be fitted into odd corners in other people’s homes. Perhaps there are as many married women, for example, devoted to a parrot or a poodle as there are old maids, of like tastes; but with the old maids the animal is made the centre round which life revolves just because there is no human being on whom its owner is free to lavish as many caresses as she would like. Crotchets are either funny or exasperating to everybody but the person they characterize; but when their genesis is traced, they often become pathetic.

Nevertheless, it is hard for a single woman to avoid oddity. She is often chained to conventionality by timidity. She is not sure that any one really cares about her bright ideas. Enforced conventionality with inward rebellion produces an odd result. It is a trite remark that “ we‘ ” can accomplish everything, while “ I ” can do nothing; and single women have great temptations to discouragement, sometimes even to envy. A maiden lady can hardly advocate a needed reform without hearing it called a chimera fit for old maids. She can hardly praise a great man without hearing him decried

because old maids admire him. If she is quick-witted enough to perceive such judgments and therefore to suppress her opinions, she always appears odd, because her real self is at variance with her exterior, and the moment she is aware she is odd, she becomes odder than ever. A woman must have confidence not only in her opinions but in her power to please, even to speak with authority. One who stands completely alone in the world cannot always have that confidence. A friend says that a woman who has to buffet the world alone always shows marks of it. She either becomes too self-assertive, or morbidly sensitive and timid. We all know both the masculine and the ultra-feminine type. Perhaps we do not like either of them very well. We wonder not only at their want of grace, but at their want of common-sense. Yet perhaps both are accounted for by the fact that such women so often have to do a man’s work with a woman’s limitations. The most perfectly rounded character is moulded only from a full life. Growth comes from living, not from stagnation. Luckily, we live from within, and not from without; when we have the germ of life within us, there are no circumstances from which it does not draw nourishment. I have never found it possible to believe that the right idea of life does not include happiness, and so I find myself obliged to agree to the paradox that though happiness is not the chief end to seek, it is

an end we are sure to find sooner or later according to “our faithfulness to our aspirations.

The philosophy of character, and probably incidentally of happiness, is in keeping our true relations to the life above us, to that on our own level, and to that below us. Wilhelm Meister defines the three .kinds of religion as reverence for that which ‘is over us, for that which is like us, and for that which is beneath us.

Now marriage inevitably affords training in the two latter relations. The more ardently we love our equals, the more quickly we learn the lessons of justice, forbearance, and mutual help. The happy married women, in whose case the close companionship of a lifetime only exalts every pleasure, learn their lessons unawares. But the unhappy wives, to whom their relation is irksome in the highest degree, can hardly escape learning part of the lessons. They must be just, they must be forbearing, they must help, and they must share both pleasure and pain with another whether they will or no, unless they are willing to sit down tamely and see their lives go to wreck. Few are so indolent as to do this; and most are urged on by something more potent than the spur of necessity. A married woman, once in her life at least, chooses her own environment. It is easier to conform to our own choice than to adapt ourselves to the unavoidable. The husband may turn out to be a scamp ; but there is a time, however short,

when he is transfigured by the light of the ideal, and in the attempt to fit herself to him, the wife must gain something in character. She cannot possibly shut herself up alone in utter selfishness, as a single woman who finds her natural companions uncongenial may sometimes do. Indeed, she does not wish to do so, or why should she have married at all? She will sometimes try, however feebly and waveringly, to go out of herself.

A thoroughly selfish girl is at first attracted by a man who loves her, because of what she receives from him; but gradually she begins to wish to please her lover by doing him some service in return, and from this weak germ real love begins to grow. If a woman is selfish, and her husband is a tyrant, her bitter lessons will be learned by force; but it will be impossible for her to shirk them ; and for a while, at least, she will probably justify her marriage to herself by making some attempt to learn them.

A single woman, even when she misses the highest happiness, has no such abyss of suffering to fear. Some maiden ladies, accordingly, metaphorically cross themselves whenever they hear of a divorce case, and thank Heaven that they have never been ensnared in the matrimonial web. Still they have a temptation of their own which must not be ignored. They may not learn their true relations to their equals at all. As they are so happy as to be exempt from force, they can learn them only from love. Can we actively choose to be large-hearted, if such a temperament is denied us? Most of us, alas ! are incapable of this ; but we all have opportunities to put ourselves into those close relationships which develop our powers. We can welcome even severe discipline which forces us out of ourselves. Such a bud may be very hard, but it will open at last into a flower.

Single women seldom fail to observe the letter of the law of love which says we are to give to others ; but when they are so unhappy as to have no one near and dear with a claim upon them, their interpretation of the law tends to grow narrower and narrower. Their own little tastes are magnified in importance; they must sit in their own special easy-chair, and drink from their own special cup. If they are studious, their studies are of more importance than all the world around them. If they are fond of music, they will not miss a symphony concert, even if they know that a lonely friend needs

them. Their nerves gain more and more sway over.

them, and everybody must conform to their fancies. There are those who are tempted to feel themselves illused when one of their kindred becomes dependent upon them, and sometimes this does befall through injustice; but even then there have been cases where the necessity of caring for others has so awakened the dormant love of the worker that she has joyfully acknowledged the burden as a precious trust.

Yet who but an ascetic values discipline simply as discipline ? A sweet and lively girl, having been brought under the influence of a prominent evangelist, became “converted,” and sincerely wishing to lead a life which should have meaning in it, she told a friend that she thought she should like to marry a minister. She thought it would steady her to live with one whose whole attention was given to religion. Yet when, in the course of time, a young divine offered himself to her, his profession caused her such dismay that she would have refused him if she had not loved him dearly. She proved a model minister’s wife in the end ; but it is clear that if she had married simply for discipline, without the love, she would have been in full revolt in three months. Her early wish was rather sentimental. ‘ It was like another wish of hers, caused by noticing how much a friend’s nature had been deepened by sorrow. “I have never had any trouble in my life,” she said enviously. “If I could only lose a friend, I am sure it would improve my character!” Those of us who have come to years of discretion know that we need not seek discipline. There is always enough trouble to develop all of us. Our part is the making the most of every opportunity, both of joy and pain.

Self-inflicted discipline is seldom a blessing. The joyous giving of ourselves because we love to give is quite another thing. “To love,” says the author of

“ Gravenhurst,” “is the great glory, the last culture, the highest happiness ; to be loved is little in comparison.”

We dream that it is the wife who enters into this great glory of love. So it is sometimes, but not always. The unmarried woman looks about with a sinking heart, as she sees how few marriages meet her own tests. If she is large-hearted, she often has a far better chance to pour out an unstinted love on worthy objects than her married sister has.

The love of our equals teaches us justice in the largest sense. It teaches us sympathy too. No woman can do without dear friends of her own age, position, and tastes. The wife has one friend; the single woman must not rest content till she has found at least one.

But the most completely self-forgetful love is that of the mother for her child. Even where the marriage is far from ideal, the sweetness and helplessness of children make an appeal to the mother which is not to be withstood. It must be hard, indeed, for a married woman to be entirely selfish. The claims of a child are bontinual. Even its reasonable claims are made by night as by day, and whether the mother herself is well or ill. They cannot be put aside, however bad-tempered the mother may be. It is true the rich often delegate their duties to others, but the duties must be done by some one. Such incessant care, which would be almost unendurable without the love that goes with it, with the love is a delight. The mother’s love is without thought of reward; and though children give back love in return, they never do it from a sense of duty. The mother’s love teaches perfect sympathy with those below her. It teaches generosity and ready helpfulness towards the helpless. All mothers do not learn the lesson perfectly. Many unmarried women learn it in a greater measure; but the mothers learn it oftener. A childless woman, who has a clear vision, will see that she must be alive to every opportunity to fulfil a real claim made by any helpless creature upon her, if she wishes to approach the beautiful self-forgetfulness she sees in so many mothers. But it will not be an easy task. It takes an overwhelming love to carry us over all the drudgery before us. How can we love everybody? We may love all in a general, lukewarm way, wishing them well and doing them little favours which do not cost us much trouble. We may be above hurting a fly, or even an enemy who has hurt us; but that is not the love which takes us up out of ourselves, and gives a peculiar delight and zest to pain and weariness, and makes suffering for one we love better than any kind of happiness for ourselves alone. What shall we do?

Will not all thoughtful observers hear me out in this, —that if we open our hearts fully to the love of the child, or the dependant who is already near and dear to us,


the love grows into almost as splendid a plant as the love of a mother for her child; while if we are contented with simply doing our duty, the love dwindles and the obligation becomes irksome? So with our equals, if we use our friend for our own pleasure, instead of spending ourselves for her, the friendship dies out,——that is, on our own part.

It may seem to some one that I am calling on unmarried women to lift themselves above themselves, if they would have even the chance of the higher life which opens naturally to the married ; as if I were quoting the Oriental dogma that “ Marriage is promotion,” and requiring the unmarried to reach an unnaturally high level by their own unaided exertions. And yet this is not true.

The relation on which all other relations depend is the relation to the Power above us. We call it God, or we call it Goodness, but it is the same for every one of us. The power is inexhaustible; the spring refreshes all comers.

All peculiar circumstances make a special demand on character, and furnish opportunities for special virtues. The married have their temptations, and the unmarried theirs. Serenity, for example, is easier to the single than to the married; for, as Mrs. Browning a /1‘2/ing serenity is harder for the unmarried, for that must always be quickened by love, and love is not always at hand. Yet a living serenity is e.s’.rentz‘aZ to us. None of us can know beforehand where our weaknesses lie. Neither men nor women can measure their own strength, and say how they can bear either a

says, “Who at once can love and rest?” and yet

‘married or a single life. But if the relation of any

human being to God is the true one, it involves sooner or later true relations to all other creatures. We do not lift ourselves up ; but we allow ourselves to be lifted by an unfailing power. Miss Susan Blow, in her wonderful Dante lectures in St. Louis, said: “All duties grow out of essential relationships, and all sins are greater or less violations of more or less essential relationships. All secondary relationships are of course grounded in the primary relationship; hence the germ of all good or evil to man lies in his relationship to God.”

We climb, like Dante, to the top of the mountain, but we rise higher still by the wings which are not ours. Better still, when we lose ourselves in the love of God, the light of that love so illumines and warms us that all the waste and desert places around and below us glow with it, and we no longer find it hard to be what we wish we could be to those who stand beside us or to those who look up to us from below.

It is common in these days to begin with love of

man, and struggle upward to the love of God. George Eliot said she had no faith in any religion which did not begin with love of our fellow-creatures. No doubt love of God and man are inextricably connected, as in the two commandments of Christ; but some will always begin their conscious life with love of God, while others as surely begin with love of man.

, When the higher love is most perfect, we realize that it cannot of itself be enough. We must love human beings, and that not merely in a general way. Hearty personal love is indispensable,——and to both men and women. Has a thoroughly beautiful life ever been lived by any one whose ideal was not true to both “the kindred points of. heaven and home”?

For those who have none of the great loves which are the foundation of the home, there are two dangers: there is sometimes a feverish longing to accomplish some conspicuous and definite work which shall establish our right to live in the world that is usually so indifferent to us; and sometimes, on the other hand, there is a lassitude and hopelessness which make us feel that we can do nothing of the slightest importance

to any human being. Then

“ Higher far Thou must mount for love.”

That is the hope we get from Emerson. The doctrine sometimes seems too hard, as if the high air were too

Folly as it Flies (Google Books)

j«|lIIEP of all sublunary abominations is the
slatternly woman. I blame no man for
longing to rusb from a house, the mistress of
which, habitually, and from choice, pays him the
poor compliment of pouring out his coffee in curl
papers, or tumbled hair, or dingy, collarless morning
gown, and slip-shod feet If there is a time when
a pretty woman looks prettier than at any hour in
the twenty-four, it is in a neat breakfast toilette, with
her shining bands of hair, and nice breakfast robe,
(calico, if you like, provided it fit well, and the color
be well chosen) ; and if there is a time, when a plain
woman comes the nearest to being handsome, it is in
this same lovable, domestic dress.
I will maintain that the coffee and eggs taste
better, and that the husband goes more smilingly
and hopefully to his day’s task, after helping such a
wife to bread and butter. I could never compre
hend the female slattern—thank heaven there are
few of them—or understand how a woman, though
she had no eye to please but her own, should not be
scrupulously neat in all the different strata of her
I repeat it, I blame no man from rushing in dis
gust from a house whose mistress is a slattern ; who
Some Varieties of Women. 281
never pays her husband the compliment to look
decent in her person or in her house, unless company
is expected ; who reserves her yawns and old dresses
for her husband, and strikes an attitude for his male
friends ; whose pretty carpets are defaced with spots ;
whose chairs are half dusted ; whose domestic din
ners are uneatable ; whose table-cloth, castors, and
salt-cellars are seldom regenerated ; and whose
muslins look as if they had been dipped in safron.
Not to speak of the wastefulness of this crying
fault: bonnets, shawls and cloaks will not long
retain their beauty if left on chairs or tables over
night, instead of being carefully put away ; bracelets
and brooches are not improved by being trodden
upon, or ribbons and laces by being hastily wisped
into a corner. To such an extreme do I carry my
horror of an untidy woman, that I would almost
refuse to believe in the virtue of such an one. Not
that I admire the woman who is always at her hus
band’s heels with a brush and a dust-pan ; “who puts
him under the harrow if he does not place his boots
under the scraper before entering the parlor ; who
has fits if his coat is not hung up on the left side of
the door instead of the right ; who when he has but
ten minutes to spare after breakfast to enjoy the
morning paper, drives him out of his comfortable
corner by the fire, to brush up a spoonful of ashes
on the hearth; who is always “righting,” as she
calls it, his own particular den, which T am con
282 Folly as it Flies.
vinced all husbands must be allowed to enjoy, neck
deep in confusion unmolested, if their wives wish
the roof to stay on.
I once had the misfortune to live in the house
with such a female, whose husband roosted half his
in-door time on the top of the table. to keep clear of
the mop. How her cap-strings flew through the
doors ; what galvanized broomsticks she wielded :
how remorselessly she ferreted out closets, and disem
bowelled cupboards ; how horribly she scraped glass
and paint ; and how anxious she looked to begin
again when it was all done. How I slunk behind
doors, and dodged behind screens, and jumped out
of windows, to get out of the vixen’s way ; and how
I sat swinging in the elm tree in the orchard at a
safe distance till the whirlwind was past
Heavens; how that india-rubber woman would
go to baking after she had done cleaning, and to
ironing after she had done baking, and to sewing
after she had done both ; how vindictively she
twitched her needle through, as if she wished it were
some live thing, that she might make it feel weari
ness and pain. How like whipped spaniels her
children looked ; and what a reverence they had for
washing and ironing days ; how remorselessly she
scrubbed their noses up and down of a Sunday
morning, and shoved them into ther “meetin
clothes,” turning the pockets carefully inside out, to
see that no stray bit of string, or carnal marble, or
fish-hook remained, to alleviate the torture of the
Some Varieties of Women. 283
long-drawn seventeenthlies of the parson’s impracti
cable discourse.
Still this female gave her husband light bread to
eat ; his coffee and tea were always strong and hot ;
he might have shaved himself by the polish of the
parlor table ; his buttons were on his shirts, and his
stockings always mended; but the man—and he
was human—might as well have laid his night-cap
beside a sewing-machine. And oh, the weary details
of roasting, baking and broiling to which he was
compelled to listen and approve between the pauses.
The messes, which in any other female hands but
hers, would inevitably have stewed over or burnt up
or evaporated. The treasure he had in her, culinarily and pecuniarily, though he didn’t know it !
What I want to know is this :
Must a model housekeeper always have thin lips,
thick ankles, a bolster-figure, and a fist like an over
grown beet? Need she take hold of her children as
if total depravity were bristling out of every hair of
their heads ? Need the unhappy cat always take its
tail under its arm and creep into the ash-hole when
ever she looks at it? is a sweet temper fore
ordained to be incompatible with sweet cupboards ?
Would it be unchristian to strangle such women
with their own garters?
I pause for a reply.
284 Folly as it Flies.
I don’t like to admit it, but there are two things
a woman can’t do. First, she can’t sharpen a lead
pencil Give her one and see. Mark how jaggedly
she hacks away every particle of wood from the
lead, leaving a spike of the latter, which breaks
as soon as you try to use it You can almost
forgive the male creature his compassionate con
tempt, as chucking her under the chin, he twitches
it from her awkward little paw, and rounds, and
tapers it off in the most ravishing manner, for durable
imp ^ ^*
Last week a philanthropist (need I say a male
philanthropist) knowing my weakness, presented
me with a two-cent-sharp-pointed-lead-penciL My
dreams that night were peaceful. I awoke like a
strong-minded woman to run a race. I sat down to
my desk. I might have known it ; “I never loved
a tree or flower,” etc. Some fiend had “borrowed”
it Oh the misery that may be contained in that
word “borrowed.” When you are in a hurry;
when the ” devil ” is waiting in the basement, stamp
ing his feet to get back to the printing-office ; when
you’ve nothing but a miserable little ” chunky “-oldworn-out-stub of an inch long lead pencil to make
your ” stet “-s and ” d “-s. Shade of Ben Franklin !
shall I, before I “shuffle off this mortal coil”—
though I don’t know what that is,—ever own another
two-cent sharp-pointed-lead-pencil ?
I have said that there are two things a woman
Some Varieties of Women. 285
can’t do. I have mentioned one. I wish to hear no
argument on that paint, because when I once make up
my mind ” all the king’s men ” can’t change it Well,
then—Secondly: A woman can’t do up a bundle.
She takes a whole newspaper to wrap up a paper of
pins, and a coil of rope to tie it, and then it comes
unfastened. When I go shopping, which it is some
times my hard lot to do, I look with the fascinat
ed gaze of a bird in the neighborhood of a magnetic
serpent, to watch clerks doing up bundles. How the
paper falls into just the right creases ! how deftly
they turn it over, and tuck it under, and tie it up,
and then throw it down on the counter, as if they
had done the most common-place thing in the world,
instead of a deed which might—and, faith,’ does—
task the ingenuity of ” angels !” It is perfectly as
tonishing ! It repays me for all my botheration in
matching this color and deciding on that, in hearing
them call a piece of tape ” a chaste article,” and for
sitting on those revolving stools fastened down so
near the counter, that it takes a peculiarly construct
ed shopper to stay on one of them.
Thirdly—I might allude to the fact that women
cannot carry an umbrella ; or rather to the very pe
culiar manner in which they perform that duty ; but
I won’t I scorn to turn traitor to a sex who, what
ever may be their faults,—are always loyal to each
other. —So I shall not say, as I might otherwise
have said, that when they, unfurl the parachute allud
ed to, they put it right down over their noses,—take
286 Folly as it Flies.
the middle of the sidewalk, raking off men’s hats
and woman’s bonnets, as they go, and walking right
into the breakfast of some unfortunate wight, with
that total disregard of the consequent gasp, which
to be understood must be felt, as the offender
cocks up one corner of the parachute, and looks de
fiantly at the victim who has had the effrontery to
come into the world and hazard the whalebone and
handle of her ” umberil !” No, I won’t speak of any
thing of the kind ; besides, has not a celebrated writ
er remarked, that when dear ” woman is cross, it is
only because she is sick ? ” Let us hope he is right
We all know that is not the cause of a man’s cross
ness. Give him his favorite dish, and you may dine
off him afterward—if you want to.
Amiable creatures are the majority of women—to
each other ; charitable—above all things charitable !
Always ready to acknowledge each other’s beauty,
or grace, or talent Never sneer down a sister
woman, or pay her a patronizing compliment with
the finale of the inevitable—”but” Never run the
cool, impertinent eye of calculation over her dress,
noting the cost of each article, and summing up the
amount in a contemptuous toss, whether it amounts
to fifty cents or five hundred dollars, more likely
when it is the latter ! Never say to a gentleman
who praises a lady, what a pity she squints ! Never
say of an authoress, oh yes—she has talent, but 1
prefer the domestic virtues ; as if a combination of
the two were necessarily impossible, or as if the
Some Varieties of Women. 287
speaker had the personal knowledge which qualified
her to pronounce on that individual case.
Well-bred, too, are women to sister woman.—
Never discuss the color of her hair, or the style of
its arrangement, her smile, her gait, so that she can
liear every word of it Never take it for granted
that she is making a dead-set at a man, to whom she
is only replying—”Very well, I thank you, sir.”
Never sit in church and stare her out of counten
ance, while mentally taking her measure, or nudge
some one to look at her, while recapitulating within
ear-shot all the contemptible gossip which weakminded, empty-headed women are so fond of retail
ingNow just let a dear woman visit you. Don’t you
know that her eyes are peering into every corner and
crevice of your house all the while she is ” dear “-ing
and “swee<“-ing you? Don’t you know that her
lynx eyes are on the carpet for possible spots, or
mismatched roses? Don’t she touch her fingers to
the furniture for stray particles of dust ? Don’t she
hold her tumblers up to the light, and examine
microscopically the quality of your table-cloths and
napkins, and improvise an errand into your kitchen
to inspect your culinary arrangements, to the infinite
disgust of Bridget ? Don’t she follow you like a
spectre all over the house, till you are as nervous as
a cat in a cupboard ? Don’t she sit down opposite you
for dreary hours, with folded hands, and that horse
leech—” now-talk-to-me ” air—which quenches all
288 Folly as it Flies.
your vitality—and sets you gaping, as inevitably as
a minister’s ” seventeenthly.”
Ah, the children ! How could I forget the little
children ? / clasp the hand of universal womvn on
that ; Heaven knows I don’t want to misrepresent
them. And after all, do I ever allow anybody to
abuse them but me ? Never !
There are many kinds of women. Of course I
adore them all ; but there is one who excites my un
feigned astonishment I allude to the rabbit woman.
She has four chins and twelve babies. She has two
dresses—a loose calico wrapper for home wear, and
a black silk for ” meetin ‘.” She eats tremendously,
and never goes out; she calls her husband “Pa.”
She is quite content to roll leisurely from her rock
ing-chair in the nursery to the dining-room table,
and thence back again, year in and year out She
knows nothing that is passing in the outside world,
nor cares. She never touches a book or a newspa
per, not even when she is rocking her baby to sleep,
and might She never troubles herself about Pa, so
long as he don’t get in her way, or sit on the twelve
babies. She has a particular fondness for the child
who cries the most, and won’t go to sleep without a
stick of candy in each fist She has a voice like an
auctioneer, and prefers cabbage to any vegetable ex
” Pa ” is devoted to her, i e., he calls her My dear,
and as soon as he enters the house, before hanging
Some Varieties of Women, 289
up his hat, kisses all the twelve children immedi
ately, whether dirty or clean, and inquires tenderly
after her health : keeps her stupid on a full diet, and
flirts desperately, at a safe distance, behind her back.
Secondy, there is the prim womany with her mouth
always in a prepared state to whistle ; who crosses
over if she sees a man coming, and tosses up the end
of her shawl when she sits down, lest she should
crease it ; who keeps her parasol in several layers of
tissue-paper when not on duty: puts her two shoes
on the window-sill “to air” every night, and sug
gests more indelicacy by constantly running away
from it, then she could ever find by the most zealous
Thirdly, there is your butterfly woman, who, pro
vided her wings are gay and gauzy, is not particular
where she alights. “Who cannot exist out of the
sunbeams, and dreads a rainy day like an old gown.
Who values her male acquaintance according to therr
capabilities for trotting her to balls, operas and par
ties, and giving her rings and bouquets. Who spoils
all the good looks she has, trying to make herself
“look better,” and turns into a very ordinary cater
pillar after marriage.
Fourthly, there is your library woman, steeped in
folios ; steeped in languages, both living and dead ;
steeped in ologies, steeped in politics; who walks
round a baby as if it were a rattle-snake, and if she
was born with a heart, never has found it out
Fifthly, there is your female viper—your cat—
your hyena. All claws, nails and tongue. Wiry,
290 Folly as it Flies.
bloodless, snappy, narrow, vindictive ; lapping up
your life-blood with her slanders, and clawing out
your warm, palpitating heart Out on her !
Sixthly, there is your woman—pretty or plain, it
matters not ; lady-like by nature ; intelligent, but
not pedantic; modest, yet not prudish; stronghearted, but not ” strong-minded ” (as that term is at
present perverted) ; no ” scholar,” and yet well read ;
no butterfly, and yet bright and gay. Merry with
out noise, silent without stupidity, religious without
fanaticism, capable of an opinion, and yet able to
hold her tongue. If married, not of necessity sink
ing into a mere machine; if unmarried, occupying
herself with other things than husband-hunting.
Liking books, yet not despising needles and brooms ;
genial, unaffected, good-natured; with an active
brain, and a live heart under lock and key. God
bless her ! wherever she is, for she redeems all the
p- Do you suppose that the woman ever lived who
would -prefer single to married life had she ever met
with a man whom she could really love? I have
seen cold, intellectual women, apparently self-poised
and self-sustained, gliding like the moon on their
solitary path alone, diffusing light, perhaps, but no
warmth ; to the superficial observer looking as care
lessly down upon joy as upon sorrow; but no power
on earth could persuade me, that beneath that smooth
ice there smouldered no volcano ; no reasoning per
Some Varieties of Women. 291
snade me that those fingers would not rather have
been twisting a baby’s soft curls, than turning the
leaves of musty folios ; no negative shake of the head,
or forced laugh, prevent my eyes from following with
sorrowful looks the woman who was trying to make
herself believe such a lie. Let her pile her books
shelf upon shelf, and scribble till her pen, ink, paper,
thoughts, eyes and candle give out;—and then let
her turn round and face her woman’s heart if shej
dare ! I defy her to stop long enough to listen one
half hour to its pleadings. I defy her to sit down in
the still moonlight and look on, while old memories
in mournful procession defile before her soul’s mir
ror, without a smothered cry of anguish. I defy her
to listen to the brook’s ripple, the whispered leaf-mu
sic, or to look at the soft clouds, the quiet stars, the
blossoming flowers, the little pairing birds as they
build their nests—and above all, upon a mother with
her babe’s arms about her neck—without turnings
soul-sick away. She is not a woman if she can do I
otherwise. She is not a woman if she can be satis
fied with clasping her own arms over a waist which
belongs to nobody but herself I declare her to be
a machine—a stick—and carved in straight instead
of undulating lines ; she’s an icicle—an ossification—
a petrifaction—an abortion—a monster—let her keep
her stony eyes and cold fingers off me ; she has no
place in this living, breathing, panting, loving world.
Out upon her for a walking mummy—leave her to
her hieroglyphics, which are beyond my understand- –
292 Folly as it Flies.
Pshaw—there are no such women ; they are only
making the best of what they can’t help; they
are eating their own hearts and make no sign
dying. They ought all to be wives and mothers.
.Cats, poodle-dogs, parrots—plants, canaries and ves
try meetings—are nothing to it No woman ever
has the faintest glimpse into heaven till she has
nursed her own baby; in fact, I half doubt if she
has earned a right to go there till she has legitimately
had one.
Now were I an old maid—had no man endowed
me with the names of wife and mother, I would not
go round the world Whining about it, either in prose
or verse, any more than I would affect a stoicism,
transparent to every beholder; I would just adopt
the first fat baby I could find, though I had to work
my fingers to the bone to keep its little mouth filled.
I would have some motive to live—something to
work for—something, in flesh and blood, which I
could call my own :—some little five, warm thing to
put my cheek against when my heart ached. Un
protected!—” A little child ” with its pure presence,
should be my protection. I wouldn’t dry up and
blow off like a useless leaf, with the warm, fragrant
sunshine and blue sky about me, and my heart beat
ing against my breast like a trip-hammer. My lit
tle room shouldn’t be cheerless and voiceless. I
wouldn’t die till some little voice had called me
” mother,” though my blood did not flow in its rosy
veins. I would have something to make sunshine
in my heart and home ; my nature shouldn’t be like
Some Varieties of Women. 293
a tree growing close to a stone wall, only one half of
which had a chance to develop, only one half of which
caught the air and light and sunshine—no, I would
tear myself up by the roots, and turn round and re
plant myself Some bird should come, make its
home with me, and sing for me ; else what use were
my sheltering leaves? Better the lightning should
strike me, or the woodman’s axe cut me down.
Men who have any physical defect, are apt to im
agine that it will forever be a barrier between them
and woman’s love. There never was a greater mis
take than this, as has been proved again and again
in love’s history. Not a hundred years since, nor a
hundred miles distant, we heard of a young girl who
had become strongly attached to a young man who
was blind in one eye ; and for that very reason ! He
was sensitive about his infirmity to that degree, that
he shrank from general society, particularly that of
ladies, whose presence seemed to make him morbidly
miserable ; so much had he exaggerated what he was
quite unaware would call forth sympathy, instead
of ridicule, from any true woman. The young girl,
of whom we speak, knowing what we have related
about him, though personally a stranger to the young
man, had insensibly, through her pity, begun to love,
and was then earnestly seeking some way in which,
without compromising her modesty, she could encour
age his notice of her. One thing you may always
be sure of No woman is in love with a man whom
294- Folly as it Flies.
she freely praises, and of whom she oftenest speaks ;
but if there is one whom she never names, if she start
and blush when others name him, if she can find no
voice to answer the most common-place question he
addresses her, if she avoid him, and will have none
of him, if she pettishly find fault with him when he
is commended to her notice by others, look sharp,
for that is the man.