'/iiis'us |Wt-|fxrIi0. 
SEMI-CENTENNIAL; 
Or, Tlie Old Maid's ?»olilo<iuy. 
BY ANNA HEATHERLEIGH. 
Heigh ho! I have lived—let me see,— 
(Some fifty years, if the truth be told:) 
And now men leave mo out in the cold. 
While “ sweet sixteen” makes a face at me. 
“ Ugly old maid;" 
** Hateful old Jade;” 
Well—I’m not what 1 was, and—a spade’s a spade. 
I’ve left no femlno art untried; 
Padded and powdered, scented and laced; 
(There’s no tJlrl round with a smaller waist;) 
Twisted my hair—>n.j/ hair—till I cried; 
Low neck, thin shoes; 
Every new ruse 
That tortures and kills l have not failed to use. 
"Accomplishments?" certainly, a score; 
Harp and piano, worsted and " oils,” 
Boarding-school French, small part of my spoils; 
Flirt, smile, and pout,—yes, manage a bore 1 
Never ail elf 
Danced like myself: 
Why is It, then, tuat Pin laid on the shelf? 
Beaux I have had—Item— such as they were; 
Spooney BILL Jones, who thought 1 was rich. 
Beastly Sam Bl ACU (died drunk in a ditch ;) 
Horse-Jockey Tom,— the impudent cur! 
And John— my side! 
All. was it prido 
That kept me from being a shoemaker’s bride? 
Well—here I am: fifty. How time flies t 
Beaux-cn telling is a real dance of death; 
Beauty has gone with the flatterer’s breath ; 
Wrinkles and rheumatism tell no lies. 
Soul, Is it true, 
Truer than true, 
That It’s better to work than to dawdle life through? 
Too late for me,—yes, too late for me, 
These " women's rights—the right to a heart, 
The right to an independent part 
Of ad that a man may choyse to be, 
Were not for me; 
([ couldn't, you see, 
Be called a " s|,rong-mluded,” " unfeminiue” she !) 
Heigh ho! once more to the charge. I say; 
I’ll hide those gray hairs under the black, 
A little more paste to fill up that crack, 
Where’s my new silk—the decolletee? 
Squire Tom’s a fool. 
An arrant fool. 
If he should ask me.—hem, die, and loave it cool $—! 
--♦♦♦- 
UNMARRIED WOMEN.—No. III. 
A Tulle With and About Them. 
BY MARY A. E. WAGER. 
If llicre is anything in the world which 
will make me a thorough convert to the 
“Woman’s Rights” doctrine hi its fullest, 
completest, ugliest, and most comprehensive 
sense, it is the sort of opposition, as well as 
intended ridicule, (it is too shallow to be the 
genuine article,) that emanates from the pen 
and tongue of a certain class of men. 
I innocently enough came in contact witli 
one of these “women protectors" the other 
day in a business way. He began to talk of 
the extravagance of women in dress, and 
gave that as the reason why so many young 
men do not marry. I took up the gauntlet 
savagely, by replying that i “ reckoned they 
spited themselves cpiite ns much as they did 
the girls;” that they wouldn’t “look at a 
girl” unless she was dressed in the fashion, 
and smiled and simpered in the fashion, too; 
that if a girl had the sense and taste to dress 
plainly, hut neatly, and act like a rational 
creature, they immediately dubbed tier as 
“strong-minded” or “odd!" Whereupon 
he took occasion to say “ that a woman who 
was strong-minded or odd, must necessarily 
have a hard road to travel, as she was run¬ 
ning counter to God’s laws and ordinances.” 
1 asked him “ what those laws and ordi¬ 
nances were, and who was to he the inter¬ 
preter of them.” He replied that “ common 
sense could interpret them, as it was very 
evident to him (t) that if a woman wanted to 
place herself on an equality with man, she 
ran counter to God’s ordinance; that God 
intended man for woman’s protector, and 
when she undertook to protect herself she 
thwarted not only God’s plan, but forfeited 
man’s respect; and if she claimed equality 
of rights, she should accept equality of re¬ 
sponsibilities, and do service on the battle¬ 
field, etc.,” and as Horace Greeley so pro¬ 
foundly whimpered, “ if any lady wants her 
rights, I am a wood chopper; my ax is at her 
sendee .” 
Oh dear! if a man can't 9ee further than 
the end of his nose, he need not make a 
public statement of the fact, for the humilia¬ 
tion of his friends. But to return to the 
“ Woman. Protector." 
“ Did you, do your duty on the battlefield ?” 
I asked. 
“ No; but-■” 
“ How many women do you protect ? ” 
“ Well, I can’t say just how many.” 
“ What do you call ‘ protection ?’ ” 
“ Well, you see I haven’t time to discuss 
this question, just now,—if you’ll come in 
again—I’ll — I’ll—. But really, don't you 
t hi nk men are women’s natural protectors?” 
“ No, I don’t. ’Tis all sham. If there’s 
any protection in the question ut all, women 
protect men. No man protects me. I am 
protected by myself, by the laws and society 
just as you are. And indeed, there’s nothing 
for me to he protected against, except rascals, 
and they are mostly men. If you men had 
protected women as it has ever been in your 
power to, and as you ought to have protected 
them, they wouldn’t he evincing such dis¬ 
satisfaction as they now do. And these tnen 
who prate so much about ‘ protecting ’ us, 
and set themselves up as being so much 
better judges of what we want and need l ban 
we are ourselves, are the very kind of men 
to whose ‘ protecting kindness * a woman of 
refinement and sensibility would never, 
never dare trust herself. Good morning, sir.” 
I’ve no sort of patience whatever with 
such creatures, and never waste words with 
one without being ‘ mad’ about it for a week 
after. And it is to help save women from 
falling into the hands of just such ‘pro¬ 
tectors’ that I shall try to convince them in 
my unambitious way, that they can protect 
themselves, by furnishing some hints as to 
how they can do it, and in the meantime be 
the best, brightest, loveliest, most interesting 
and 1 womanly ’ of all women.” 
And, as I’ve entered upon such debatable 
ground, there’s another popular fallacy that 
needs ventilating. It is this: — That wives 
and mothers are larger-hearted, broader in 
thought and feeling, more loving and tender, 
than unmarried women. 
If there’s anything under the sun that will 
shut a woman’s eyes, ears, heart and mind 
to everything and everybody else in the 
whole created Universe, ii is a little midge 
of flesh and blood that she calls the “ baby.” 
You can’t whistle, nor sing, nor laugh, nor 
read a paragraph aloud that you so much 
enjoy, nor move your chair, nor walk natu¬ 
rally, nor take a long breath, without the 
great, large-hearted, unselfish mother glides 
up to you like an avenging angel with, 
“ Hush! Mary. Husk! The baby." 
“ Oh, the baby, is it ? I thought I’d seared 
the sun out of its orbit." And then she 
thinks you are So queer if you can compre¬ 
hend anything this side of Heaven of equal 
importance with that baby! That is how 
mothers have such large hearts! 
And if a woman 1ms only a husband, she 
quotes “John" for this, and “John” for 
that, until you wonder if she does not really 
believe that all other men have been slewed 
down into “John.” And that is what con¬ 
stitutes “breadth and comprehensiveness” 
in a wile! Of course there are exceptions 
to all rules, and there have been, and still 
are, wtt-married women that, this world has 
no particular need of, but to whom, if they 
had married, it would he still more difficult 
to furnish consignment. 
Ami now as tiie “coast is clear,” and the 
preliminaries that seemed to attach them¬ 
selves to our cause, duly noticed and dis¬ 
robed of their enchantment, we will proceed 
to look into the kind or class of business, 
not for which women are “specially ” fitted, 
but that they can do, and do well, as there 
are various kinds of work that both men 
and women perform equally well, the mat¬ 
ter of sex being of small account for or 
against. 
For a radiating point, or center, we will 
begin with the work of the house, which is 
so poorly done, so badly managed, so devoid 
oi system, so inexpressibly unappreciated, 
that the hopelessness of tile case is appalling. 
And why? Because the work has been 
largely in the hands of the most ignorant, 
unskilled, and untaught of American and 
foreign domestics, who resorted to it be¬ 
cause they didn’t know enough to do any¬ 
thing else, and heaven knows they knew 
nothing about this! Housework, like farm 
work, has suffered for one and the same 
reason; because of the prevailing erroneous 
notion that brains are not. necessary to the 
well or excellent performance of it. A man 
may learn by practice to chop wood, or dig 
a ditch well; and a woman may by practice 
become an excellent dish washer or fire 
builder. But I should like to sen a farmer 
or housekeeper a success without brains, 
and well directed and educated brains at that. 
In England the post of housekeeper is 
honorable instead of menial, because only 
educated and accomplished women are ac¬ 
cepted to fill that statlou. One of the rarest 
things to be obtained in this country is a 
woman who thoroughly understands gen¬ 
eral housework. I heard a lady lamenting 
the fact not long since in these words;—“ 1 
would willingly give two hours’ instruction 
per day in a school established for teaching- 
women how to do housework. I am tired 
to death of being brains for the women 1 
hire to do my work. The majority have no 
more than a coal hod, and if any women 
on earth need them, they are those upon 
whose work our domestic comfort depends. 
It doesn’t require half the economy, man¬ 
agement, foresight, and judgment to make 
dresses and bonnets, as to run the affairs of 
the kitchen. And why in the name of mercy 
do not intelligent working women rescue 
the race from ruin by taking housework out 
of the clutches of ignorance ?” 
General housework has much to recom¬ 
mend it. It is healthful, furnishes variety, 
does not overtax the nervous system, avoids 
grievous worriment, and is so open to im¬ 
provement and change as to require the 
study, attention and enthusiasm that any¬ 
thing of a progressive nature ever inspires. 
But you say it is not recompensed as well 
as other work. That may be true; but girls 
who do sliopwork rarely more than make 
both ends of the year meet, and women 
should calculate to lay up money every year, 
with the same prudence or thoughtfulness ; 
that men do. But as to compensation for 
housework, 1 am of the opinion that the 
majority of men and women who hire 
their work done, would willingly pay twice 
as much for a woman who understood her 
business like an expert and a scholar, who i 
was conscientious, economical and prudent, } 
who could be trusted implicitly both as to 
honesty and judgment, and who regarded t 
her employers’ interest as her own. Such a 
woman is cheaper at. ten dollars a week than - 
another at two, who destroys outright half 
as much as she earns, and uses up the other 
half in vexation unci stupidity. House help 
will not lie dignified with the position or 
compensation it ought to command, until 
women, by study and apprenticeship, are 
qualified to command it, when they cannot 
fail to receive it. It is one of woman’s 
“ weaknesses” to assume avocations without 
undergoing any preparatory process, she is ' 
a sort of Jack-at-all-trades. But if she ex¬ 
pects equality of wages, and a reputation 
for capability and business qualifications, 
she must not presume upon leniency because 
of her sex. 
An accomplished cook commands a salary 
of from $50 to $200 per month. These cooks 
are usually men, because women do not un- < 
derstund the art ol’ cooking, only to a com¬ 
paratively limited extent. It is a position 
involving responsibility, taste, tact, judg- 1 
ment, and a knowledge of combinations, we 
call chemical. 
I believe in the inheritance of “gifts,” and 
that some people were born for some tilings, 
and some for others; so I do not think that 
all women were born for bread makers, bed 
makers or butter makers, any more than all 
men were. Neither do I believe in the mat¬ 
ter of “ spheres.” The only boundary to he 
recognized is that of unfitness, inability. It 
seemed a lit tle odd one day, to have a man 
dressmaker measure me for a dress waist; 
and odder still to see him bent over, with 
needle and thimble, laying sheeny satin in 
reverse plaitlngsfor the elegant dress he was 
making for a rich lady. I didn’t consider 
him out of his “sphere,” although he had 
better have been out of that one, and gone 
out of doors for work, as he was in a slow 
hut fatal consumption. 
I recommend housework for those who 
prefer a quiet, social, even life, and possess 
intelligence enough to discover the “ mis¬ 
sion” that lies within the arena of every 
household. I also wish that employers would 
make broader distinction between the com¬ 
pensation of good and had help, and not ar¬ 
range it on the distinction of sex. It is an 
injustice that ricli women should regard as 
their “ mission ” to regulate and reform. 
That is one, at least, of a woman’s “ rights,” 
to compensate equally the work of men and 
women, when equally well done, without re¬ 
gard to sex. I know of no language rich 
enough in expression to convey any idea of 
my estimation of those women who beat 
down womens wages, and “haggle” about 
compensation that is already miserable 
enough to prompt a good sized soul to double 
it, instead of depreciating it. 
-- 
FEMININE FEUILLETON. 
Miirryhitf in RummIii. 
The ladies in Russia are very anxious to 
marry, because they have no liberty before 
marriage. They arc kept constantly under 
the maternal eye until given up to their hus¬ 
bands, and then they take their own course. 
Almost as soon as a girl is horn in the better 
ranks of society, her parents begin to pre¬ 
pare the dowry she must have when she goes 
to her husband. She must furnish every¬ 
thing for an outfit in life, even to a dozen 
new shirts for her coming husband. The 
young man goes to the proposed bride, and 
counts over her dresses, and examines the 
furniture, and sees the whole with his own 
eyes before he commits himself to the irre¬ 
vocable bargain. In high life, such things 
are conducted with more apparent delicacy; 
but the facts are ascertained with accuracy, 
the business being in the hands of a broker 
or notary. The trousseau is exposed in pub¬ 
lic before the wedding day. 
The French Women in the Field. 
A Pabis letter say : — “ The women in 
France are as enthusiastic as the men, and 
it is said that in the ranks of the ‘Francs- 
tireurs,’ along the frontier, are to be found 
several of the fair sex who have adopted as 
a uniform a jacket and knickerbockers of 
black velvet fastened at the knee, over 
woolen stockings striped black and scarlet, 
black ancle boots, red flannel shirts, a block 
velvet cap with two crowned plumes, and a 
cartridge box of the model worn by the 
officers of the artillery.” 
An American Woman at Strasbourg. 
A pretty American woman is doing 
hospital duty at Strasbourg. She wears a 
gray felt hat with a drooping white plume, 
a black tunic confined at the waist with a 
varnished leather belt and silver buckle, 
loose trousers to the knee, and Hessian hoots 
witli gilt buttons. 
’octal (Topics. 
POSSIBILITIES. 
BY I.ETTXE A. IRONS. 
Only a handful of shining seeds, 
Bursting the husk of russet brown, 
I plucked them Just now from the tangled vino 
Over the trellis drooping down; 
Brushed by rude winds, it forgets to climb, 
And droops along the ground. 
The purple bells, that on summer morns 
Silently opened, fold oo fold, 
And swung for an hour, wooed by the bees. 
And kissed and caressed by the breezes bold, 
Are dead; and the fruit of their short, bright lives 
Are the sable seeds X hold. 
Dark utul uncouth, with nothing of life 
Or color, they lie in my open hand. 
But, as I look at them lying there, 
The scene fades out, and I seem to stand— 
As If by a fairy's wand transferred— 
Not In autumn, but summer land. 
instead of the sober, sable seeds, 
1 see a mass Of springing vines 
Clasping the painted trellis close 
With tnelr spiral anna. And the June sun shines 
Falling athwart the tangled leaves 
In warm and slanting linos. 
Under the broad, green, heart-shaped loaves, 
Where the shadows are cool and deep, 
Fringed and Unted In beauty rare, 
The drooping clusters creep— 
Wrapped In their hearts lu wondrous scrolls 
The blossoms lie asleep. 
The glory Is not all In promise. The vino, 
With the royal purple of power, Is crowned, 
And airily swinging on slender stems, 
From the friendly trellis’ topmost rouud. 
The purple tinted drifts of bloom 
Roach down and kiss the ground. 
Beautiful, glorious! And all of this 
Lies hid in the homoly seeds in my hand. 
Shadow and sunshine, and tours ol' the sky— 
Not sunshine alone and the seeds expand— 
No longer homely, wrinkled nod dark, 
But beautiful, rich, and grand! 
Why should wo shrink from shadow and storms? 
Our souls aro hut wrinkled, homely seeds, 
Possessing the possibilities 
Of upward growth, and of noble deeds. 
God knowoth our wuut of light and shade, 
And giveth to suit our need. 
-- 
OUR BORROWERS. 
T believe we are fated to live next door 
to borrowers; for out of the three houses wo 
have occupied in-town, two have been 
thus situated. As our present neighbors 
have Lite borrowing propensity so much more 
developed than the last, I naturally look for¬ 
ward with some apprehension to any change 
of residence, lest in our future neighbors the 
propensity should be developed in the super¬ 
lative degree. 
The wants we are at present called upon 
to supply, seem to bo “legion.” Before 
breakfast, a “ drawln’ of tea,” or half a cup 
of coffee is wanted. Through the morning, 
“ Jane is making cake,” perhaps, and “ wants 
a cup of sugar, or a bowl of flour, or some 
soda and cream of tartar, or a cup of molas¬ 
ses, or (if scarce,) a couple of eggs or a lemon.” 
Or, at dinner time, it is “ a cup of rice, a little 
sail., or some vinegar, or a large sized meat 
dish, as ‘ there’s company to dinner.’ ” Our 
own vegetables have not unfrequently been 
skimmed out of their water as well as might 
be, because our colander was doing duty 
“ next door.” The practice ol' knocking be¬ 
fore entering, seems to he considered by our 
neighbors, a ceremony “ more honored in the 
breach than the observance;” so if we wish 
to be private, we are obliged to keep our five 
avenues of entrance well seem ed. Nor does 
this precaution always insure privacy ; for, 
following the sound of our voices, a bead 
will sometimes pop in at the window, witli 
the usual demand for sundries. Even as 1 
sat securely meditating, as I thought, in tny 
own room one day, a sharp eye spied me, 
and my reverie was interrupted with, “ Su¬ 
san, got a large sized pudding dish?” 
replaced by coffee sugar or light brown; her 
New York tea and coffee by an inferior 
quality from - town; when her best 
knives return with stained blades and crack¬ 
ed handles, and her cake basket, which she 
had polished for the occasion, come back 
with the remnants of jelly and cream cake 
adhering to its dimmed surface. 
For my own part, I confess I am very fre¬ 
quently obliged, in order to preserve my 
serenity, to recall the text, “ The righteous 
is merciful and lendeth.”— Susan Brownson. 
-- 
PROFANE HIRED HELP. 
H aving been a reader of your most val¬ 
uable paper for several months, T am at last 
pleased with an article on hired help, enti¬ 
tled “ A Protest Against Profane Help,” 
written by a lady, and expressed by her as 
an important question. But did she stop to 
consider that uiue-tcuths of the farmers of 
the present day whose sons labor Avith their 
profane help, do themselves use profane and 
wicked language both iu the field and in 
the house 1 ? Though this is no excuse for 
the profanity in the said help, still 1 think 
that the farmer, as an employer, being the 
superior, should set. the example. 
I am a “hired help,” and am living in a 
respectable family, and have been living For 
fifteen years in that capacity in various 1am- 
ilies, both in Canada and the United Stales; 
and in no family have I found that, profane 
or obscene language was used where it did 
not come per example from the head of Ihat 
family. Another thing, Mr. Editor, that is 
a drawback to the hired lielp of the present 
day, is tiie disrespect that hired hands are 
held in amongst the farming community. 
There is scarcely a farmer’s family of the 
present day that comes within my knowl¬ 
edge that will recognize a laboring man, 
though he try ever so hard to conform to 
the rules of a gentleman; for it is always 
the case to allude to such as “ only a hired 
help," iu such a disrespectful tone as to cut 
the man to the quick if lie lias any fine 
feelings. Would it not he better to respect 
a man that is worthy of respect, and try to 
keep him in their employ by making ihe 
labors of his life more agreeable, and by ex¬ 
ample try to bring out the good traits in his 
nature, than to dismiss him witli disgust bo- 
cause they have obtained all the animal la¬ 
bor that their present need requires? Many 
laborers are young, unmarried men, like my¬ 
self, who would rather have a quiet, respect¬ 
able home in a farmer’s family for smaller 
wages than one in a profane family where 
the Sabbath is broken and the hired help 
treated no better than the beast of burden, 
with large pay. 
“ Sir, we must go to the head of farmers’ 
families for the reformation iu profanity; 
and before they question the help they must 
reform themselves. 
And to the man who bus to labor among 
them, I would say, be a gentleman. There 
is no need, because you labor on a farm, that 
you must lie a rough, cursing, swearing 
lout. You can be just as much of a gentle¬ 
man in your old clothes every day as the 
man who walks around in his soft, store 
goods and line shirt. Do not associate with 
any one who is immoral or profane, or who 
does not keep good society. Respect your¬ 
selves by showing respect to others, especial¬ 
ly those who are your superiors, in whose 
employ you are, and it will bring its own 
results, insomuch that you will he respected 
and liked by all who are acquainted with 
Hired Help. 
PluinwcUi Allegan Co., Mich. 
own room one day, a sharp eye spied me, Hoclul Cumiouib In the Himalayas, 
and my reverie was interrupted with, “ Su- about Wangtu a curious change in social 
han, got a large sized pudding dish ?” customs occurs. Below this point polygamy 
Sometimes a scuttle of coal is wanted, or a p reva p tS) every man buying his wives from 
couple of extra irons, or the fire wherewith )[icir p aren ( S f or a given number of rupees, 
to heat a pair; ami once a member of their ^y| ieu lie is t j r ,. ( | 0 f one of these, he sells her to 
family, finding ironing under operation in our h}3 ^^pbor f or something under cost, price, 
kitchen, concluded it would be a good idea anf | purchases a new inmate for the Zenana, 
to bring her clothes in and iron them then jp ftr ther up tlm valley, however, where the 
and there, which she accordingly did with- p CO pi e urt; very poor, and the tiny ridges of 
out more ceremony. cultivation will not support largo families, 
Sometimes, if the afternoon be very warm, p 0 )y an ,^.y is common—as among the Todas 
an inquiry comes in as to whether we have j^ilgherries. The elder brother of a 
any lire upon which to boil their kettle. If p aill jiy chooses one wife for himself and all 
company is expected to tea, or to spend the ^ i )ro thc‘ry—the children arc common prop- 
evening, there is a demand for extra china er ^ a , u \ 8eem equally beloved by all the 
and spoons, glass dishes, knives, napkins, f am jiy ) HO they, at least, do not suffer by tiie 
cake basket, wine glasses, and lemonade arnm geiTient. The sisters of the wife being 
glasses. Upon miscellaneous occasions, the considered detrimentals, are placed in Bud- 
son wants the wheelbarrow, the little girl a hi , 4 c , m vents, Avhence they come forth to 
willow basket to take to a pic-nic, and Jane wor |. in llje p^lds, or as coolies. Many men, 
a small traveling hag to carry to the city. a ] 30< p n d homes in these convents, ‘hough 
Now, if our neighbors lived at a distance (.bin seems rather a matter of social couven- 
frora any store, or on a farm, we could under- | cuc c than of religious feeling, 
stand how borrowing might lie a necessity; --—■*“*••*' -— 
but in a village containing twelve grocery Va«n« but Effectual. 
stores—one Of which Is only across the Mrs. Edwards, (lately married.) Really, 
.. , , . Geonu* I thouuht you would bo more m- 
street—tho necessity seems less obvious. teres [] u ’ r an J not smoke for hours without 
The good lady (who, by the way, is very excl|ftn gkg a WO rd. This does not realize 
kind-hearted and good-natured,) one day in- t j )OSC bright pictures you painted before our 
formed ray mother she didn’t know what marriage.” 
Mr. Edwards. — “ You may depend upon 
she should do without neighbors, for she Mr. Edwards.— ‘ You may uepum upon 
««%'"»**>•' ««•»*•» ik’S;,,'or ESTl. 1 ^E 
of being enabled to aflord her so much pleas- [Mrs. Edwards does not know in tiie least 
ure, ought to be very comforting to my w bat Mr. Edwards means; neither does he 
mother; hut I doubt if she finds it suffi- know himself; but the effect is all the same, 
ciently so when her nice granulated augur is Mrs. Edwards is silenced.] 
