be tempted to neglect their absent brothers | unsexing and unsphering that may ensue upon rather than be liable to misconstruction, in so an indiscreet use of it, surely it were best to important a particular. Writing letters some-send Grammar and History, Philosophy and times ends in writing books, as more than Mathematics, to the limbo of forgotten things, Madame de Sevigné can testify. How is it as far as females are concerned. If Madame with keeping a journal? Does that come de Stael had been brought up only to sing and within the canon? Might it not be maliciously dance, regulate household affairs, and tend interpreted to be writing a book in disguise? children, would she have written the books which provoked Napoleon to banish her from Paris? If Mrs. Somerville had spent years sitting with her feet in the stocks and her arms pinioned in a back-board to make her genteel, while her eyes were employed in counting bead-work, or devising stitches in crochet, could she ever have lowered herself by writing about the geography of the heavens? Prevention is certainly better than cure. Choke the fountain rather than have to dam the river (no pun will be suspected here). Shut up our schools for young ladies; bid the teachers "go spin!"

Does the toleration for which a female writer may hope depend in any degree upon the class of subjects which may engage her pen? We have an idea that some gentlemen would award a palm (no pun, positively,) to her who writes a Cook's Oracle, where a rod or a fool's cap would be the doom of a lady who should presume to touch political economy. Next to a family receipt-book, one would suppose books of instruction for children would be most popular in female hands; but there is no doubt that some men think Mrs. Barbauld wore, or should have worn, a beard, and would be Use the copy-books for recipes or surprised to see a picture of Mrs. Trimmer in papillottes; the learned treatises popularized petticoats. The novel of fashionable life, 'for the use of schools" to kindle fires less to provided it have no suspicion of a moral, and be dreaded than those of literary ambition: make no pretension to teach anything what- and if our daughters should not thereafter be ever, may pass as feminine, without detracting "like polished stones at the corners of the from the fame of its author; but a novel with temple," they will at least make kitchenthe least bit of bone in it is "mannish"-a hearths, which we all know to be a far more very different term from "manly." Poetry, obviously useful part of the social edifice. provided it be of the sigh-away, die-away cast, One great duty of woman, if not the greatdoes not injure a lady's reputation; acrostic-est, is to be agreeable. Now, if teaching her making is considered quite an accomplishment, to think for herself, and so putting her upon and so are watch-paper verses; but poetry the temptation of expressing her thoughts, which some unthinking, out-of-the-world cri-imperil in the least degree this her high vocatics praise as "masculine" for vigour and freshness, is insufferable. If we could show to some objectors the delicate Elizabeth Barrett Browning the minutest, most fragile, most ethereal creature the sun ever shone upon, with a voice like a ring-dove's, we might swear in vain to her identity as the author of some of the strongest and bravest poetry that has appeared in our day; so obstinate a conviction exists in some minds of the close connexion between mental power and masculine coarseness.

It seems a little inconsistent that anybody should venture in our day to put such dangerous weapons as the ologies into the hands of a sex to whose peculiar charms too much mind is known to be so fatal. Why not leave a girl in the hands of the nurse until she is fit to be transferred to those of the seamstress, the pastry-cook, the dancing-master, the teacher of music, in succession? Why occupy precious hours and risk fine eyes over even French and Italian, which could be learned in colloquy with these artists? Why not adapt means to ends? Is it certain that school-knowledge will pass in at one ear and out at the other? If not, how far safer not to impart it! Considering the advantage that may be taken of it, the

tion, we vote for the instant abandonment of female cultivation, and would advocate a heavier fine on selling to a female under forty, unaccompanied by parent or guardian, a card of Joseph Gillott's pens, than for allowing a paper of poison to go from the shop unlabelled. We would be the very Jack Cade of legislators for such offenders. To be sure there may be question as to the universality of the feeling on which our zeal is predicated. Some men openly profess to like intelligent women, and there are doubtless others who in secret do not altogether reprobate the use of the pen in female hands, although they may for harmony's sake refrain from the avowal of such liberality, except, as we have hinted, the case fall within the limits of their own family circle, when they usually go beyond mere toleration. It is very desirable that unanimity be obtained in this matter. The natural desire to be agreeable will be quite strong enough to set things right after they are fully understood. To stand well with all men will far outweigh the penurious and timid praise of a few. So true is this that Madame de Stael herself confessed that she would gladly give her intellect and her fame for beauty!

But is beauty always the alternative? Ah,, whole popular philosophy of female claims on there is an important question. Many scandals the score of intellect. This hint as to the obhave been uttered against the outward charms ject of woman's being, solved a world of doubts. of literary ladies. "Ugly!" said a celebrated Here was a touchstone by which to try any poet in our own hearing, on this very topic; pursuit; a test to determine the value of any "ugly, yes-they all are!" Which must mean talent. Whatever does not conduce to the that lines of thought are disadvantages to the grand aim must be, if not noxious, at best peculiar charm of the female face-an equivocal indifferent. Whoever contends that an educacompliment, rather. But waiving this delicate tion regulated by this principle would leave point is the face, which has no lines of thought, woman insignificant and unhappy, shows only on that account beautiful? If not, how fearful his ignorance of the world; for do we not the risk of leaving the head unfurnished! If see every day splendid people who avow it, the face may be vacant yet not lovely—if we consciously or unconsciously? and can splendid may neglect the brain without securing the people be unhappy or insignificant? beauty-how difficult becomes the decision of the parent. In old times-happy times!-when fairies attended at the birth of daughters, and offered choice of gifts, the balance between beauty and good sense was easily struck. It was understood that to select the one, precluded all chance of obtaining the other, without a new and more compulsive spell. Now, without any great insight into futurity, and with only a little fat beginning of a face, with a button nose and twinkling eyes to guide our estimate of probabilities of comeliness, while on the other hand frowns the fear lest furnishing the brain may, by giving a superabundance of meaning to the face, mar the promise of beauty,-how anxious must be the deliberation. A critical survey of society might lead one to suppose that with some parents a decision proves impossible, the poor child being left to grow up without either beauty or brains!

Our own convictions on this subject were rendered unalterable some years since in the course of a lecture by a young gentleman, before a debating society, at whose sitting we were so happy as to assist. The question was one not unfrequently discussed on those occasions-the comparative education of the sexes. Our friend was warm against sharing the sciences with women. His picture of the ideal blue-stocking, a hideous man-woman, with highcrowned cap and spectacles, hoarse voice and masculine stride, still haunts our imagination, and has ever proved an effectual scare-crow in that field. On the other hand, his fancy's sketch of a charming young person was such as to leave in one's mind a somewhat confused mass of roses, lilies, smiles, blushes, pearls, snow, raven's wings, and Aurora's fingers, very fascinating, though suggestive of despair to most of the sex. But what made the most distinct impression on our memory was the question, repeated in various forms as different branches of knowledge were examined with reference to their fitness for female use-" Will it render her more alluring?" Here lay the key-far more potent than Blue Beard's, which locked up only women literally headless-to the

There is one potent argument against allowing women in habits of literary employmentthe injury that would arise to the great cause of public amusements. Our theatres would be worse filled even than they are at present, and the opera would cease its languishing existence at once, if the fair eyes that now are fain to let down the "fringed curtains" as a veil against the intensity of floods of gas-light, should learn to prefer the shaded study-lamp at home, and the singing of the quiet fire to the louder efforts of the cantatrice. Dancing, except in horrible sobriety, after the piano, would become obsolete, waltzing might be studied in the abstract, or as an illustration of the revolution of the heavenly bodies, but "certain stars" would no longer "shoot madly from their spheres" to join the giddy round in person. Parties would break up at eleven; for eyes and nerves would so rise in value if put to serious use, that any wilful expenditure of their powers would soon be voted mauvais ton, and if that should ever happen, adieu to suppers and champagne! There is really no end to the overturn that might result from an innovation of this sort. Imagination pictures the splendid fabric of Fashion tottering to its fall-undermined by that seemingly impotent instrument, the pen, wielded by female hands. We shrink from our own picture of so mournful a reversal of the present happy state of things. It is one of the perversities of the imagination to torment itself with delineations of what can never by any possibility occur, and this is truly a case in point.

The truth being conceded that no women but those who are ugly and unattractive should or do write, a thought suggests itself with respect to the limited duration of the beauty which is so justly considered the most desirable of female possessions, and the most natural and proper bar to any extensive cultivation of the mind. As none but very robust beauty lasts beyond fifty, would it not be advisable to establish schools, specially fitted for that age, in which the remains of a lovely woman might have an opportunity of some education suited

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,
And roses for the cheeks of faded age-

would be valueless, compared with this more potent elixir of life. The practice of the old surgeons, who sometimes filled the shrunken veins of decrepitude with the rich blood of bounding youth, might be considered a precedent for such efforts as we propose. Scruples were sometimes entertained as to the lawful

to the twenty years which may be supposed still to lie before her? It would be irksome to pass so long a period in silence, and mortifying to continue to talk nonsense without rosy lips to set it off. Here a certain amount of knowledge might be communicated by those whom inexorable plainness of person had condemned to intellectual exercises in early life; and the circumstances might prove mutually beneficial, since the husbands of the once beautiful would undoubtedly be willing to pay liberally for hav-ness of that mode of repairing the decay of ing some ideas infused into their minds, as provision for the conversation of old age. The face could no longer be injured, while the head, and perhaps the heart, too, might gain materially.

Nature; but to the attempt to make education the substitute for beauty, we are sure, society will not object, even though the result should be that "dim horror"-a literary woman.

EREWHILE I Vowed, in cynic mood,
To make my heart a solitude,
A cell, where never might intrude
Aught to disturb the peace within.
I closed, with sceptic bolt and lock,
Each entrance to the stubborn rock;
And vainly did the passions knock,—
They could no entrance win.

Ambition came, with lordly train,
And rattled at the gate in vain;
She promised riches, power, domain,
Her siren-song was lost in air;
For, safe within my citadel,
(Wise Selfishness the sentinel,)
Like the sage oyster in his shell,
I took ne heed, ne care.

Soon Love, with sauntering step and bold,
As one who knew the way of old,
Came up, but found his ancient hold
Garrisoned by his mortal foe.

Next Jealousy, who, long, I ween,
An inmate of the place had been,
Essayed to crawl the bars between,
But found her progress slow.

There came a soft rap at the door;
I looked the grated postern o'er,-
It was a gentle thought-no more!

Dear girl, it was a thought of thee.
No lated sylph, whose mansion-rose
Refused, unkindly, to unclose,
Could plead so sweetly for repose
As plead that thought with me.

Alas, the pleader looked so kind,
I tried the fastenings to unbind,
Nor deemed that ever I should find
A cause so fair a guest to rue;
But Love, with his confederates twain,
Stood watching-in slipped Love amain,
And ere I closed the door again
Crept in the other two.