26 



Dialogue — Influence of the Female Character. 



V0L.V. 



you have not much objection. The idea, that 

 to the finer mould of the female is to be attri- 

 buted the power, which they assuredly pos- 

 sess, of bearing with more fortitude the re- 

 verses of fortune, and the bereavements of 

 life, than men, is beautiful and quite poetical ; 

 and many are the instances which I have 

 known, where, after sustaining her full share 

 of the trouble and anguish consequent upon 

 such, the wife has been able to impart a por- 

 tion of her mental courage to the support of 

 a husband, bowed to the earth with the weight 

 of his share of affliction. Like a china cup, 

 into which boiling water might be poured, 

 and, immediately after, water cold as ice, 

 without fear of breaking — so the heart of 

 woman will expand with prosperity and con- 

 tract with adversity, without bursting ; while 

 the man, like a brown-ware mug, is done up 

 in half the time ! 



Frank. — Well, I never heard any one ad- 

 vocate so well the cause of woman, in my 

 life! 



Father. — Ah ha ! that reminds me of an 

 occurrence which took place some years ago, 

 and which I must relate to you. I was tra- 

 velling, by coach, in England in company 

 with six gentlemen, and a plain, homely wo- 

 man, about sixty years of age ; the subject of 

 conversation amongst the men was the cha- 

 racter of the female sex ; and, although they 

 agreed that the women were the weaker sex, 

 they dissented in toto to the doctrine of their 

 being the softer. I, as I always do, vindi- 

 cated their rights and privileges, and on my 

 remarking that they were formed of the finer 

 clay, the old lady, who had long felt intense 

 interest in the conversation, exclaimed, 

 " Well ! indeed I never heard any one talk 

 so well in my life ! I declare it quite does me 

 good to hear you, sir !" About the same time, 

 I crossed the channel between Ryde and 

 Portsmouth, in a sailing boat, on a stormy 

 day; the passengers had taken their seats, 

 when a very elegant young man, in the mili- 

 tary dress of a foreigner, came on board and 

 enquired, in broken English, if any lady 

 wanted a protector for the passage? The 

 ladies, all but one old fishwoman, with a bas- 

 ket of fish for the Portsmouth market, had 

 already been suited with partners, and she 

 being the only unprotected female, he went 

 and took his seat beside her, pulled her cloak 

 about her head and feet, and waited upon her 

 with the greatest assiduity. The old woman 

 did not at first know what to make of it, but 

 after a little, she winked to the rest of the 

 passengers, and quite enjoyed it. The gen- 

 tleman, seeing them smile, said, "gentlemen, 

 I am a knight of the Prussian order of the 

 North Star; our only bond of union is the 

 protection of woman, at all times and in all 

 places, without regard to age or beauty." 



On our arrival at Portsmouth, he offered 

 the old woman his arm, took the basket of fish 

 in the other hand, and stepped gracefully on 

 shore, handed her the fish, made her a bow, 

 and walked on. The old woman could con- 

 tain no longer, but bursting into a scream of 

 laughter, declared it was the rummest joke 

 that she had ever seen or heard of! 



I grant that it is not in your power to imi- 

 tate your sister, in the delicate and gentle 

 way in which she nurses her tender charge — 

 raising their drooping heads, looking them in 

 the face, and calling them " my pretties," for 

 she, I am sure you will admit, is one of the 

 softer sex. And this reminds me of that 

 beautiful poetic gem, " The Hymn to the 

 Flowers," by Horace Smith, which was re- 

 published in the Farmers' Cabinet a few 

 months ago; the endearing epithets, with 

 which almost all the verses commence, are 

 peculiarly delicate and affecting; and, al- 

 though I have read and repeated it times 

 innumerable, I still experience new delight 

 on every fresh perusal. You must copy it 

 into your book and get it by heart, and then 

 you will never be at a loss for a beautiful 

 simile at sight of a beautiful and lovely 

 flower. — (See page 285 of Cab, vol. iii.) 



Frank. — Oh, I shall never forget that hea- 

 venly melody. But, Father, have you not no- 

 ticed that, meet farmer Sykes when we will, 

 he is always singing 1 I never heard neigh- 

 bour Grabb sing or whistle ; I think their clay 

 must have been different in its nature at the 

 first, and, while the one might be likened to 

 the happy soil, the other must be, what is the 

 horror of all good farmers — a weeptj soil. 



Father. — Ay, Sykes has a soul to feel, as 

 well as a tongue to express, by heavenly 

 sounds, the language of the heart. I am sure 

 that his love of sacred music might be traced 

 in all that he does — in his ploughing, in his 

 sowing, in his weeding, and in his mowing, 

 and especially, in the managing of his cattle 

 and horses, to whom he chants his com- 

 mands, instead of uttering them in that bru- 

 tal tone and expression in general use amongst 

 farmers; and when we hear the observation 

 " the farmer's eye makes the horse fat," I 

 cannot but tliink the farmer's tongue does 

 quite as much in that friendly office. And 

 you must often have observed, when Sykes 

 unties his horses in the stable, for the purpose 

 of harnessing them for their labour, and says 

 " come, my beauties," how quickly they turn 

 in their stalls, and stretch out their necks and 

 open their mouths to receive the bit ! and I 

 have seen his saddle-horse carry the whip in 

 his mouth and gallop with his master on his 

 back ! 



Frank. — All this is true — but you have 

 been, all this while, drawing your own as 

 well as farmer Sykes's portrait, you know. 



