We have known no days of sorrow;
For I am but seventeen to-day,
And we shall be married to-morrow!
A Word For Women.
By One Of Themselves.
It has been urged that women should refrain from writing for the public, and busy themselves with interests more strictly within their own domain than those of literature. The demand might claim respectful notice, if all women would give heed to it. Since they will not, is there any reason why those who employ their pens in the production of sensational stories and other demoralizing works should have the field all to themselves? Or is it right that others of equal ability should shrink from entering it in defence of religion and morality?
The space is ample for all combatants. Our learned and venerable doctors, stern champions of truth, who keep their logical and polemical lances ever poised to strike the foe, to demolish error, and force conviction upon minds firmly closed against less cogent weapons, need not fear being jostled by humble handmaidens of the same mistress, who have ventured within the lists. These may do good service, also, with a large class whom their telling blows shall fail to reach.
Our women and youth, who will read and be influenced for good or evil by “feminine literature,” cannot be amused with metaphysical discussions that gain an attentive hearing from men of philosophical tastes, or even by moral essays and reflections, however excellent and edifying.
Unfortunately, it is not a question of forming the tastes of readers. Alas! these are already formed by a vitiated literature, flowing from a godless system of education, and carrying the poison through the whole length of its course.