I idolize the Ladies! They are fairies,
That spiritualize this world of ours;
From heavenly hot-beds most delightful flowers,
Or choice cream-cheeses from celestial dairies,
But learning, in its barbarous seminaries,
Gives the dear creatures many wretched hours,
And on their gossamer intellect sternly showers
Science, with all its horrid accessaries.
Now, seriously, the only things, I think,
In which young ladies should instructed be,
Are—stocking-mending, love, and cookery!—
Accomplishments that very soon will sink,
Since Fluxions now, and Sanscrit conversation,
Always form part of female education!
Something good in the way of inculcation may be educed from this rather biting sonnet. If woman so far forgets her "mission," as it is common to term it nowadays, as to choose those accomplishments whose only recommendation is that they are "the vogue," in preference to acquisitions which will fit her to be a better wife and mother, she becomes a fair subject for the shafts of the satirical censor.
The following bit of gossip is especially "Frenchy," and will remind the readers of "The Drawer" of the man described by the late Robert C. Sands, who sued for damages in a case of breach-of-promise of marriage. He was offered two hundred dollars to heal his breaking heart. "Two hundred dollars!" he exclaimed; "two hundred dollars for ruined hopes—for blighted affection—for a wretched existence—a blasted life! Two hundred dollars! for all this!! No—never! Make it three hundred, and it's a bargain!" But to the French story:
"A couple very well known in Paris are at present arranging terms of separation, to avoid the scandal of a judicial divorce. A friend has been employed by the husband to negotiate the matter. The latest mission was in relation to a valuable ring given to the husband by one of the then sovereigns of Europe, and which he wished to retain. For this he would make a certain much-desired concession, The friend made the demand—
"What!" said the indignant wife, "do you venture to charge yourself with such a mission to me! Can you believe that I could tear myself from a gift which alone recalls to me the day when my husband loved me? No: this ring is my only souvenir of a happiness, now, alas! forever departed! 'Tis all that I now possess of a once-fond husband!"
Here she threw herself upon a fauteuil, and covered her face with her hands.
But the husband's friend insisted. The lady supplicated—grew desperate—threatened to submit to a public divorce, as a lesser evil than parting with that cherished ring—and at last confessed that she had—sold the ring six months before!
Wasn't that a climax?