"'He would make an intolerable woman,' says the Baroness. 'A fine
life, if one had a parcel of women about one, blurting out their
real minds every moment, and never smoothing matters!'
"'Mamma, what a horrid picture!' cries Laure."
When upon this subject our author leaves innuendo, and fairly shows his
colors, he writes in this wise:--
"For nothing is so hard to her sex as a long, steady struggle. In
matters physical, this is the thing the muscles of the fair cannot
stand. In matters intellectual and moral, the long strain it is
that beats them dead. Do not look for a Bacona, a Newtona, a
Handella, a Victoria Huga. Some American ladies tell us education
has stopped the growth of these. No, Mesdames! These are not in
Nature. They can bubble letters in ten minutes that you could no
more deliver to order in ten days than a river can play like a
fountain. They can sparkle gems of stories; they can flash little
diamonds of poems. The entire sex has never produced one opera,
nor one epic that mankind could tolerate a minute: and why?--these
come by long, high-strung labor.
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