“You are not a genius—no, madam, not by many removes; Shakspeare was a genius—Milton was a genius—the author of ‘History of the Dark Ages,’ which has reached its fifteenth edition, was a genius—(you may not know you have now the honor of being addressed by him;) no, madam, you are not a genius, nor have I yet seen a just criticism of your writings; they are all either over-praised, or over-abused; you have a certain sort of talent, and that talent, I grant you, is peculiar; but a genius—no, no, Mrs., or Miss, or Madam Floy—you don’t approach genius, though I am not without a hope that, if you are not spoiled by injudicious, sycophantic admirers, you may yet produce something creditable; although I candidly confess, that it is my opinion, that the female mind is incapable of producing anything which may be strictly termed literature.
“Your honest friend, William Stearns.
“Prof. of Greek, Hebrew, and Mathematics, in Hopetown College, and author of ‘History of the Dark Ages.’”
“Oh vanity! thy name is William Stearns,” said Ruth.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
“Have you ever submitted your head to a phrenological examination?” asked Mr. Walter, as he made a call on Ruth, the next morning.
“No,” said Ruth; “I believe that much more is to be told by the expression of people’s faces than by the bumps upon their heads.”
“And you a woman of sense!” replied Mr. Walter. “Will you have your head examined to please me? I should like to know what Prof. Finman would say of you, before I leave town.”