prejudice or self-conceit can prevent us from acknowledging. The inference, therefore, is unavoidable, that the man who thinks it beneath his dignity to take counsel with an intelligent wife, stands in his own light, and betrays that lack of judgment which he tacitly attributes to her. Boardman. I have no other than a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so. Shakespeare. Her Innocence. I know her the worst thought she has Is whiter even than her pretty hand : She must prove true: for, brother, where two fight Tennyson. Her Judiciousness. A judicious woman, that is diligent and religious, is the very soul of a house; she gives orders for the good things of this life, and for those too of eternity. Men themselves, who have all the authority in public, cannot yet by their deliberations establish any effectual good, without the concurring assistance of women to carry them into execution. Bishop Horne. Kindness in. Kindness in woman, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love. Shakespeare. O woman! in our hours of ease, By the light quivering aspen made; Sir Walter Scott. Kindliness of. I have observed among all nations that the women ornament themselves more than the men; that wherever found, they are the same kind, civil, obliging, humane, tender beings; that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest. They do not hesitate, like man, to perform an hospitable or generous action; not haughty or arrogant, nor supercilious, but full of courtesy and fond of society; industrious, economical, ingenuous, more liable in general to err than man, but in general, also, more virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized or savage, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, woman has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so; and, to add to this virtue, so worthy of the appellation of benevolence, these actions have been performed in so free and so kind a manner, that if I was dry I drank the sweet draught, and if hungry, ate the coarse morsel, with a double relish. Layard. Her Natural Kindliness. Dames abound, Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye, Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound. Kindliness her best Charm. The glories of your ladies be But metaphors of things, Each common object brings. Roses out-red their lips and cheeks; Let it be one that's kind, Else I'm a servant to the glass That's with canary lined. Byron. Broome. As a Lady. X I think it is not national prejudice which makes me believe that a high-bred English lady is the most complete of all Heaven's subjects in this world. In whom else do you see so much grace and so much virtue, so much faith and so much tenderness, with such a perfect refinement and chastity? And by high-bred ladies I don't mean duchesses and countesses. Be they ever so high in station, they can be but ladies, and no more. But almost every man who lives in the world has the happiness, let us hope, of counting a few such persons amongst his circle of acquaintance-women in whose angelical natures there is something awful, as well as beautiful, to contemplate; at whose feet the wildest and fiercest of us must fall down and humble ourselves, in admiration of that adorable purity which never seems to do or to think wrong. Thackeray. Her Joyous Laugh. And oft her laugh with reckless richness rung, Her lips, red-ripe— Pouting persuasive in perpetual kiss. Her lips are roses ever wash'd with dew. Greene. Their Persuasive Looks. Women have more strength in their looks than we have in our laws, and more power in their tears than we have by our arguments. Saville. Lot of. Woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings; and, if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation? Her lot is to be wooed and won; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate. How many bright eyes grow dim-how many soft cheeks grow pale— how many lovely forms fade away into the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their loveliness! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals, so is it the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. With her, the desire of her heart has failed-the great charm of her existence is at an end. She neglects all |