Nancy Stair: A Novel

To Frank Brett Noyes Who accepted, with a kind letter, The first story I ever wrote, This tale of Nancy Stair is dedicated, As a tribute of affection, From one old friend to another.
For woman is not undeveloped man,
But diverse; could we make her as the man,
Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this,
Not like to like, but like in difference.
Tennyson.
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears,
Her noblest work she classes, O,
Her 'prentice hand she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O.
Robert Burns.
Ye can't educate women as you can men. They're elemental creatures; and ye can no more change their natures than ye can stop fire from burning.