Generally speaking, it is injudicious for ladies to attempt arguing with gentlemen on political or financial topics. All the information that a woman can possibly acquire or remember on these subjects is so small, in comparison with the knowledge of men, that the discussion will not elevate them in the opinion of masculine minds. Still, it is well for a woman to desire enlightenment, that she may comprehend something of these discussions, when she hears them from the other s.e.x; therefore let her listen as understandingly as she can, but refrain from controversy and argument on such topics as the grasp of a female mind is seldom capable of seizing or retaining. Men are very intolerant toward women who are p.r.o.ne to contradiction and contention, when the talk is of things considered out of their sphere; but very indulgent toward a modest and attentive listener, who only asks questions for the sake of information. Men like to dispense knowledge; but few of them believe that in departments exclusively their own, they can profit much by the suggestions of women. It is true there are and have been women who have distinguished themselves greatly in the higher branches of science and literature, and on whom the light of genius has clearly descended. But can the annals of woman produce a female Shakspeare, a female Milton, a Goldsmith, a Campbell, or a Scott? What woman has painted like Raphael or t.i.tian, or like the best artists of our own times? Mrs. Darner and Mrs. Siddons had a talent for sculpture; so had Marie of Orleans, the accomplished daughter of Louis Philippe. Yet what are the productions of these talented ladies compared to those of Thorwaldsen, Canova, Chantrey, and the master chisels of the great American statuaries. Women have been excellent musicians, and have made fortunes by their voices.

But is there among them a Mozart, a Bellini, a Michael Kelly, an Auber, a Boieldieu? Has a woman made an improvement on steam-engines, or on any thing connected with the mechanic arts? And yet these things have been done by men of no early education--by self-taught men. A good tailor fits, cuts out, and sews better than the most celebrated female dress-maker. A good man-cook far excels a good woman-cook. Whatever may be their merits as a.s.sistants, women are rarely found who are very successful at the head of any establishment that requires energy and originality of mind. Men make fortunes, women make livings. And none make poorer livings than those who waste their time, and bore their friends, by writing and lecturing upon the equality of the s.e.xes, and what they call "Women's Rights." How is it that most of these ladies live separately from their husbands; either despising them, or being despised by them?

Truth is, the female s.e.x is really as inferior to the male in vigour of mind as in strength of body; and all arguments to the contrary are founded on a few anomalies, or based on theories that can never be reduced to practice. Because there was a Joan of Arc, and an Augustina of Saragossa, should females expose themselves to all the dangers and terrors of "the battle-field's dreadful array." The women of the American Revolution effected much good to their country's cause, without encroaching upon the province of its brave defenders. They were faithful and patriotic; but they left the conduct of that tremendous struggle to abler heads, stronger arms, and sterner hearts.

We envy not the female who can look unmoved upon physical horrors--even the sickening horrors of the dissecting-room.

Yet women are endowed with power to meet misfortune with fort.i.tude; to endure pain with patience; to resign themselves calmly, piously, and hopefully to the last awful change that awaits every created being; to hazard their own lives for those that they love; to toil cheerfully and industriously for the support of their orphan children, or their aged parents; to watch with untiring tenderness the sick-bed of a friend, or even of a stranger; to limit their own expenses and their own pleasures, that they may have something to bestow on deserving objects of charity; to smooth the ruggedness of man; to soften his asperities of temper; to refine his manners; to make his home a happy one; and to improve the minds and hearts of their children. All this women can--and do. And this is their true mission.

In talking with a stranger, if the conversation should turn toward sectarian religion, enquire to what church he belongs; and then mention your own church. This, among people of good sense and good manners, and we may add of true piety, will preclude all danger of remarks being made on either side which may be painful to either party. Happily we live in a land of universal toleration, where all religions are equal in the sight of the law and the government; and where no text is more powerful and more universally received than the wise and incontrovertible words--"By their fruits ye shall know them." He that acts well is a good man, and a religious man, at whatever altar he may worship. He that acts ill is a bad man, and has no true sense of religion; no matter how punctual his attendance at church, if of that church he is an unworthy member. Ostentatious sanctimony may deceive man, but it cannot deceive G.o.d.

On this earth there are many roads to heaven; and each traveller supposes his own to be the best. But they must all unite in one road at the last. It is only Omniscience that can decide. And it will then be found that no sect is excluded because of its faith; or if its members have acted honestly and conscientiously according to the lights they had, and molesting no one for believing in the tenets of a different church. The religion of Jesus, as our Saviour left it to us, was one of peace and good-will to men, and of unlimited faith in the wisdom and goodness, and power and majesty of G.o.d. It is not for a frail human being to place limits to his mercy, and say what church is the only true one--and the only one that leads to salvation. Let all men keep in mind this self-evident truth--"He can't be wrong whose life is in the right;"

and try to act up to the Divine command of "doing unto all men as you would they should do unto you."

In America, no religious person of good sense or good manners ever attempts, in company, to controvert, uncalled for, the sectarian opinions of another. No clergyman that is a gentleman, (and they all are so, or ought to be,) ever will make the drawing-room an arena for religious disputation, or will offer a single deprecatory remark, on finding the person with whom he is conversing to be a member of a church essentially differing from his own. And if clergymen have that forbearance, it is doubly presumptuous for a woman, (perhaps a silly young girl,) to take such a liberty. "Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread."

Nothing is more apt to defeat even a good purpose than the mistaken and ill-judged zeal of those that are not competent to understand it in all its bearings.

Truly does the Scripture tell us--"There is a time for all things." We know an instance of a young lady at a ball attempting violently to make a proselyte of a gentleman of twice her age, a man of strong sense and high moral character, whose church (of which he was a sincere member) differed materially from her own. After listening awhile, he told her that a ball-room was no place for such discussions, and made his bow and left her. At another party we saw a young girl going round among the matrons, and trying to bring them all to a confession of faith.

Religion is too sacred a subject for discussion at b.a.l.l.s and parties.

If you find that an intimate friend has a leaning toward the church in which you worship, first ascertain truly if her parents have no objection, and then, but not else, you may be justified in inducing her to adopt your opinions. Still, in most cases, it is best not to interfere.

In giving your opinion of a new book, a picture, or a piece of music, when conversing with a distinguished author, an artist or a musician, say modestly, that "so it appears to _you_"--that "it has given _you_ pleasure," or the contrary. But do not positively and dogmatically a.s.sert that it _is_ good, or that it _is_ bad. The person with whom you are talking is, in all probability, a far more competent judge than yourself; therefore, listen attentively, and he may correct your opinion, and set you right. If he fail to convince you, remain silent, or change the subject. Vulgar ladies have often a way of saying, when disputing on the merits of a thing they are incapable of understanding, "Any how, _I_ like it," or, "It is quite good enough for _me_."--Which is no proof of its being good enough for any body else.

In being asked your candid opinion of a person, be very cautious to whom you confide that opinion; for if repeated as yours, it may lead to unpleasant consequences. It is only to an intimate and long-tried friend that you may safely entrust certain things, which if known, might produce mischief. Even very intimate friends are not always to be trusted, and when they have actually told something that they heard under the injunction of secrecy, they will consider it a sufficient atonement to say, "Indeed I did not mean to tell it, but somehow it slipped out;" or, "I really intended to guard the secret faithfully, but I was so questioned and cross-examined, and bewildered, that I knew not how to answer without disclosing enough to make them guess the whole. I am very sorry, and will try to be more cautious in future. But these slips of the tongue will happen."

The lady whose confidence has been thus betrayed, should be "more cautious in future," and put no farther trust in she of the slippery tongue--giving her up, entirely, as unworthy of farther friendship.

No circ.u.mstances will induce an honourable and right-minded woman to reveal a secret after promising secrecy. But she should refuse being made the depository of any extraordinary fact which it may be wrong to conceal, and wrong to disclose.

We can scarcely find words sufficiently strong to contemn the heinous practice, so prevalent with low-minded people, of repeating to their friends whatever they hear to their disadvantage. By low-minded people, we do not exclusively mean persons of low station. The low-minded are not always "born in a garret, in a kitchen bred." Unhappily, there are (so-called) ladies--ladies of fortune and fashion--who will descend to meannesses of which the higher ranks ought to be considered incapable, and who, without compunction, will wantonly lacerate the feelings and mortify the self-love of those whom they call their friends, telling them what has been said about them by other friends.

It is sometimes said of a notorious tatler and mischief-maker, that "she has, notwithstanding, a good heart." How is this possible, when it is her pastime to scatter dissension, ill-feeling, and unhappiness among all whom she calls her friends? She may, perhaps, give alms to beggars, or belong to sewing circles, or to Bible societies, or be officious in visiting the sick. All this is meritorious, and it is well if there is some good in her. But if she violates the charities of social life, and takes a malignant pleasure in giving pain, and causing trouble--depend on it, her show of benevolence is mere ostentation, and her acts of kindness spring not from the heart. She will convert the sewing circle into a scandal circle. If she is a.s.siduous in visiting her sick friends, she will turn to the worst account, particulars she may thus acquire of the sanct.i.ties of private life and the humiliating mysteries of the sick-chamber.

If indeed it can be possible that tatling and mischief-making may be only (as is sometimes alleged) a bad habit, proceeding from an inability to govern the tongue--shame on those who have allowed themselves to acquire such a habit, and who make no effort to subdue it, or who have encouraged it in their children, and perhaps set them the example.

If you are so unfortunate as to know one of these pests of society, get rid of her acquaintance as soon as you can. If allowed to go on, she will infallibly bring you into some difficulty, if not into disgrace. If she begins by telling you--"I had a hard battle to fight in your behalf last evening at Mrs. Morley's. Miss Jewson, whom you believe to be one of your best friends, said some very severe things about you, which, to my surprise, were echoed by Miss Warden, who said she knew them to be true. But I contradicted them warmly. Still they would not be convinced, and said I must be blind and deaf not to know better. How very hard it is to distinguish those who love from those who hate us!"

Instead of encouraging the mischief-maker to relate the particulars, and explain exactly what these severe things really were, the true and dignified course should be to say as calmly as you can--"I consider no person my friend, who comes to tell such things as must give me pain and mortification, and lessen my regard for those I have hitherto esteemed, and in whose society I have found pleasure. I have always liked Miss Jewson and Miss Warden, and am sorry to hear that they do not like _me_.

Still, as I am not certain of the exact truth, (being in no place where I could myself overhear the discussion,) it will make no difference in my behaviour to those young ladies. And now then we will change the subject, never to resume it. My true friends do not bring me such tales."

By-the-bye, tatlers are always listeners, and are frequently the atrocious writers of anonymous letters, for which they should be expelled from society.

Let it be remembered that all who are capable of detailing unpleasant truths, (such as can answer no purpose but to produce bad feeling, and undying enmity,) are likewise capable of exaggerating and misrepresenting facts, that do not seem quite strong enough to excite much indignation. Tale-bearing always leads to lying. She who begins with the first of these vices, soon arrives at the second.

Some prelude these atrocious communications with--"I think it my duty to tell how Miss Jackson and Mrs. Wilson talk about you, for it is right that you should know your friends from your enemies." You listen, believe, and from that time become the enemy of Miss Jackson and Mrs.

Wilson--having too much pride to investigate the truth, and learn what they really said.

Others will commence with--"I'm a plain-spoken woman, and consider it right, for your own sake, to inform you that since your return from Europe, you talk quite too much of your travels."

You endeavour to defend yourself from this accusation, by replying that "having seen much when abroad, it is perfectly natural that you should allude to what you have seen."

"Oh! but there should be moderation in all things. To be candid--your friend Mrs. Willet says she is tired of hearing of France and Italy."

"Why then does she always try to get a seat next to me, and ask me to tell her something more of those countries?"

"Well, I don't know. People are so deceitful! There is Mr. Liddard, who says you bore him to death with talking about England."

"And yet whenever I do talk about England, I always find him at the back of my chair. And when I pause, he draws me on to say more."

"Men are such flatterers! Well, I always tell the plain truth. So it is best you should know Colonel Greenfield declares that since your return from Europe you are absolutely intolerable. Excuse my telling you these things. It is only to show that every body else thinks just as I do.

Mrs. Gray says it is a pity you ever crossed the Atlantic."

Do not excuse her--but drop her acquaintance as soon as you can, without coming to a quarrel, in which case you will most probably get the worst.

A plain-spoken woman is always to be dreaded. Her cold-blooded affectation of frankness is only a pretext to introduce something that will wound your feelings; and then she will tell you "that Mrs. A. B. C.

and D., and Mr. E. and Mr. F. also, have said a hundred times that you are a woman of violent temper, and cannot listen to advice without flying into a pa.s.sion."

And she will quietly take her leave, informing you that she is your best friend, and that all she has said was entirely for your own good, and that she shall continue to admonish you whenever she sees occasion.

A plain-spoken woman will tell you that you were thought to look very ill at Mrs. Thomson's party, your dress being rather in bad taste; that you ought to give up singing in company, your best friends saying that your style is now a little old-fashioned; that you should not attempt talking French to French ladies, as Mr. Leroux and Mr. Dufond say that your French is not quite Parisian, &c. &c. She will say these things upon no authority but her own.

When any one prefaces an enquiry by the vulgarism, "If it is a fair question?" you may be very certain that the question is a most _un_fair one--that is, a question which it is impertinent to ask, and of no consequence whatever to the asker.

If a person begins by telling you, "Do not be offended at what I am going to say," prepare yourself for something that she knows will certainly offend you. But as she has given you notice, try to listen, and answer with calmness.

It is a delicate and thankless business to tell a friend of her faults, unless you are certain that, in return, you can bear without anger to hear her point out your own. She will undoubtedly recriminate.

It is not true that an irritable temper cannot be controlled. It can, and is, whenever the worldly interest of the _enragee_ depends on its suppression.

Frederick the Great severely reprimanded a Prussian officer for striking a soldier at a review. "I could not refrain," said the officer. "I have a high temper, your majesty, and I cannot avoid showing it, when I see a man looking sternly at me." "Yes, you can," replied the king. "I am looking sternly at you, and I am giving you ten times as much cause of offence as that poor soldier--yet you do not strike _me_."

A naturally irritable disposition can always be tamed down, by a strong and persevering effort to subdue it, and by determining always to check it on its first approaches to pa.s.sion. The indulgence of temper renders a man (and still more a woman) the dread and shame of the whole house.

It wears out the affection of husbands, wives, and children--of brothers and sisters; destroys friendship; disturbs the enjoyment of social intercourse; causes incessant changing of servants; and is a constant source of misery to that most unhappy of all cla.s.ses, poor relations.

That a violent temper is generally accompanied by a good heart, is a popular fallacy. On the contrary, the indulgence of it hardens the heart. And even if its ebullitions are always succeeded by "compunctious visitings," and followed by apologies and expressions of regret, still it leaves wounds that time cannot always efface, and which we may forgive, but cannot forget.

Ill-tempered women are very apt to call themselves nervous, and to attribute their violent fits of pa.s.sion to a weakness of the nerves.

This is not true. A real nervous affection shows itself "more in sorrow than in anger," producing tears, tremor, and head-ache, fears without adequate cause, and general depression of spirits--the feelings becoming tender to a fault.

When a woman abandons herself to terrible fits of anger with little or no cause, and makes herself a frightful spectacle, by turning white with rage, rolling up her eyes, drawing in her lips, gritting her teeth, clenching her hands, and stamping her feet, depend on it, she is not of a nervous, but of a furious temperament. A looking-gla.s.s held before her, to let her see what a shocking object she has made herself, would, we think, have an excellent effect. We have seen but a few females in this revolting state, and only three of them were ladies--but we have heard of many.

When the paroxysm is over, all the atonement she can make is to apologize humbly, and to pray contritely. If she has really any goodness of heart, and any true sense of religion, she will do this promptly, and prove her sincerity by being very kind to those whom she has outraged and insulted--and whose best course during these fits of fury is to make no answer, or to leave the room.

As out of nothing, nothing can come, to be a good conversationist, you must have a well-stored mind, originality of ideas, and a retentive memory. Without making a lumber-room of your head, and stuffing it with all manner of useless and unnecessary things not worth retaining, you should select only such as are useful or ornamental, interesting or amusing. Your talk must flow as if spontaneously; one subject suggesting another, none being dwelt upon too long. Anecdotes may be introduced with much effect. They should be short, and related in such words as will give them the most point. We have heard the same anecdote told by two persons. With one it became prosy and tiresome, and the point was not perceptible from its being smothered in ill-chosen words. With the other narrator, the anecdote was "all light and spirit; soon told, and not soon forgotten." Brevity is the soul of wit, and wit is the soul of anecdote. And where wit is wanting, humour is an excellent subst.i.tute.

Every body likes to laugh, or ought to. Yet there is a time for all things; and after listening to a serious or interesting incident well related, it is exceedingly annoying to hear some silly and heartless girl follow it with a ridiculous remark, intended to be funny--such as "Quite solemncolly!"--or, "We are all getting into the doldrums."

You may chance to find yourself in a company where no one is capable of appreciating the best sort of conversation, and where to be understood, or indeed to keep them awake, you must talk down to the capacities of your hearers. You must manage this adroitly, or they may find you out, and be offended. So, after all, it is, perhaps, safest to go on and scatter pearls where wax beads would be equally valued. Only in such society, do not introduce quotations from the poets, especially from Shakspeare, or your hearers may wonder what queer words you are saying.