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" Woman, the sweet enchantress ! given to cheer 

 The fitful struggles of our passage here; 

 In pity to our sorows, sent to show 

 The earlier joys of Paradise below; 

 With matron love, and matron duty, pour 

 Her gentle influence on our evening hour, 

 When the world-wearied spirit longs to rest 

 Its throbbing temples on her sheltering breast. 

 Woman, whose tear, whose glance, whose touch, whose sigh, 

 Can wrap us in despair, or ecstasy ! 

 With untold hope, and passion's nameless thrill, 

 Refine our raptures, bid our cares be still ; 

 With Love's sweet arts, the gloom of Woe dispel, 

 Bid in our breast returning transport swell ; 

 Cling round our soul, the rising fiend destroy, 

 And lead to Virtue, by the path of Joy." Anon. 



The Indian women, especially the high castes of Hindoos, have 

 their peculiar virtues; delicate, retired, and feminine. On the pre- 

 sent journey, not only in the English districts, but those belonging 

 to other governments, the women drew water at the public wells for 

 ourselves, our servants, and cattle, while others presented us with 

 butter, milk, vegetables, fruit, and flowers. However shy they 

 may be reckoned in their general deportment to strangers, in my 

 purgunnas I have often known them to exceed these stated duties 

 of hospitality; and have seen a woman of no mean rank, literally 

 illustrate the conduct of an unfortunate princess in the Jewish his- 

 tory ; where, " Tamar took flour and kneaded it, and made cakes 

 in her brother Amnon's house; and did bake the cakes, and took 

 a pan, and poured them out before him. And her brother said 

 unto her, bring the meat that I may eat of thine hand : and Tamar 



