I have thought of the little circumstance, a hundred times, when women have bemoaned themselves, in my hearing, over the hardship of being compelled to “understand something about housekeeping.”
Since the “understanding” is a need, and patent even to their unwilling eyes, what say Common Sense and Duty?
My dear, I would not breathe it if there were a man within possible hearing—but are you not sometimes ashamed that women are content to know and to do so little in this world?
“So are many men!” True, but that is the look-out of masculine philanthropists—not ours. How many ladies in your circle of acquaintances are willing—much less eager to do anything, except the positive and well-defined work laid upon them by custom and society? How many enter into the full meaning, and have any just appreciation of the beauty of the duties especially appointed to them, of the glory and solemnity of maternity, the high honor of being the custodians of others’ happiness so long as life shall last; God’s deputies upon earth in the work of training immortal souls; of forming the characters and lives that shall outlive the sun?
How many—to descend to a very plain and practical question—could, if bereft of fortune to-morrow or next week, or next year, earn a living for themselves, to say nothing of their children?
I talked out this last-named question on paper, a few months ago; threw arguments and conclusions into a form which I hoped would prove more attractive to the general reader, than a didactic essay. The last favor I shall ask of you before closing this volume, is that you will read my unpretending story through, and answer to yourself, if not to me and the public, the question put in the title.