"'Ain't it, though!' said Pettingill. 'But I'll warrant we shall catch her tripping yet. These 'grass widows,' you know.'
"'Yes,' said Charity—'and so pretty, too. I never saw a pretty woman that behaved herself."
XXI.
HORACE MANN'S "OPINION."
Horace Mann, in his lecture on "Woman," says: "I see but one reason why woman should not preach the gospel, and that reason is, that it is ten thousand times better to go about practising the gospel, than even to preach it."
"On this hint," Fanny characteristically waxes eloquent.
"I'm perfectly ready to close my female eyes now! Here's justice meted out to our suffering sex at last, and by a Man-n, too! Nobody can disturb the serenity of my soul to-day. I feel like a crowned martyr; could shake hands with every enemy I have except ——! Anybody any 'little favors' to ask, now is their time! If my bonnet wasn't bran new, I'd toss it up till it got hitched on the horn of some celestial dilemma. Wonder if all those democrat cannons are used up? It's outrageous there's no way provided for a woman to express her surplus enthusiasm. If I roll up my eyes, it may suggest a pitcher of water in my face; hysterics would but feebly express my emotions; (besides, I don't know how they are got up) no use in fainting unless there's somebody 'worth while' at hand to bring you to. What's to be done? I'll borrow a 'True Flag,' and hoist it. I'll go into the woods and shout huzza! Never mind whether he's married or single—he's too much of a curiosity for a monopoly. Barnum must have him; he belongs to the world in general. He's booked for immortality! Napoleon, and Hannibal, and Cæsar weren't a circumstance! Just think of Horace Mann's moral courage in propagating such an unpopular sentiment! I shall have to get out a Fern dictionary. Can't find words to express my tumultuous emotions!"
XXII.
WHAT FANNY THINKS OF HOT WEATHER.
Shadrach, Meshek, and Molock! how hot it is! I pity omnibus horses and ministers; I pity the little victims of narrow benches and short recesses; I pity ignorant young mothers with teething babies; I pity the Irish who huddle in a cellar and take boarders in each corner; I pity consumptive semptresses who "sing the song of the shirt" for six cents per day; I pity dandies with tight boots; I pity cooks and blacksmiths, and red-haired people; I pity anybody who doesn't live in a refrigerator, and hasn't a Fan to temper the air.
XXIII.
FAMILY JARS.
This is a subject on which Fanny ought to speak feelingly. Her article thus entitled, is, however, full of funny hits, doubtless much like the roses which crown the skeleton, or the smiles which hide the heart-ache. Poor Fanny!