THE SPHERE OF WOMAN. BY HORACE GREELEY. "Even now, when supremacy has been transferred from muscle to mind, has that most subtle spirit, that being of most mobile fibre, that most sensitive and apprehensive organization, has she, whom God has placed, to be a 'mate and a help to man,' at the head of his creation, the foundress of nations, the embellisher of races, has she alone been left behind, at the very starting-post of civilization, while all around her progresses and improves? And is man still 'the master?' and does he, by a mis directed self love, still perpetuate her ignorance and her dependence, when ber emancipation and improvement are most wanting as the crowning element of his own happiness? If, in the progress of refinement, he has brightened instead of breaking the chain of his slave, he has only linked a more strong nucleus of evil to his own destiny, and bound up, with his noblest views of national and social development, a principle that too often thwarts the progress and enfeebles the results of his best reforms." LADY MORGAN-' Woman and her Master." "I ALWAYS regret it," says a French wit, "when a woman turns author: I would much rather she had remained a woman." In the spirit indicated by this witticism, the world has generally met every attempt of woman to consider her own position and relations, and determine in what points, and to what extent, they should be changed. Let her but dare to name such themes, and Respectability eyes her with a frown, a shrug, and a shudder, which, being interpreted, implies: You are unsexing, unsphering yourself. You are making yourself a theme for ribald jest, and grave suspicion. Back to your dolls and mirror, your ringlets and quadrilles! The kitchen, the nursery, and (if she be of the affluent minority) the drawing-room are your domain, beyond which you wander in deadly peril. If you love your connections, or value your good name, beware!' This warning was long effectual to silence, if not to convince. Happily, it has visibly lost something of its power. A few daring spirits have overleaped the barrier, and found that, without as within it, there are snares and pitfalls for the weak and simple, while the wise and strong walk securely whither they will. Timidly at first, and awkwardly enough to justify the ridicule of the scoffer, Woman has grasped the pen, and finds its potency as a weapon for defence or reprisal not destroyed by contact with her hand. Using it at times weakly and unworthily, she has yet employed it so often and so powerfully in the cause of humanity, of justice, of progress, that I think few would now seriously deny that man has been instructed and the world improved by her writings. True, they yet form but a small proportion of any well-selected library; but each age witnesses, not merely a great increase of their number, but a marked improvement in their character. The names of Hemans, Martineau, Somerville, Sedgwick, Edgeworth, Norton, Landon, Sigourney, in our own day and language, form but a small part of the bright constellation of female authors which man could ill afford to see extinguished. First to Write, then to Think, seems to be the natural order. The infant must accustom his eyes to the novelty of vision before his gaze embraces and comprehends the world. A Sappho, giving utterance to her own wild, consuming passions-a Rosa Matilda, coining into feeble and tawdry verse the mawkish sentiment of the drawing-room-a Montague, a Sevigné, a Burney, keenly observing and admirably depicting, either directly, or through the thin guise of fiction, what passes before her eyes-all these have precedence in time over the analyst, the philosopher, the fearless investigator; but these, too, are manifested in their season. At length Woman reaches and ponders the questions: What am I? What are my relations to others? Are these entirely just? Do they afford scope for all the good of which my nature is capable? Is the state of vassalage in which I find myself dictated by my own feebleness, my unfitness to encounter the perils and ills which would else encompass me? Is it best even for him to whom I am accounted a companion and a helper, but to whom I am oftener in fact a toy, a convenience, a slave? Should I, in choosing to be a dependent, a legal vassal, cease also to be gentle, pure, and winning-a loyal wife and a devoted mother?' These questions have been propounded in our time-they will not consent to be annihilated by the nod of Fashion nor cower beneath the frown of Etiquette. The Pasha's dozen wives in an oriental harem may daily marvel that any reputable woman can be so immodest as to appear in public unveiled, or look on the face of any man but her lord and master-yet the world moves on. THE SPHERE OF WOMAN. 271 day are beginning to raise such a dust about? Is she not (among the upper ten thousand of course) daintily nurtured, lightly tasked, fairly surfeited with teachers and education, profusely flattered almost from her cradle, early invited to balls and parties, (and what could suit her better than these?) in due season married and installed in a sumptuously furnished house, abundantly provided with servants, and every affluence of luxury? What more can these universal grumblers ask for her?" Let me answer these questions in the words of one of the latest and firmest asserters of the Rights of Woman-S. Margaret Fuller: "It may well be an anti-slavery party that pleads for Woman, if we consider merely that she does not hold property on equal terms with men; so that, if a husband dies without making a will, the wife, instead of taking at once his place as head of the family, inherits only a part of his fortune, often brought him by herself, as if she were a child or ward only, and not an equal partner. "We will not speak of the innumerable instances in which profligate and idle men live upon the earnings of industrious wives; or, if the wives leave them, and take with them the children, to perform the double duty of mother and father, follow from place to place, and threaten to rob them of the children, if deprived of the rights of a husband, as they call them, planting themselves in their poor lodgings, frightening them into paying tribute by taking from them the children, and running into debt at the expense of these overtasked helots. Such instances count up by scores within my own memory. I have seen the husband who had stained himself by a long course of low vice, till his wife was wearied from her heroic forgiveness, by finding that his treachery made it useless, and that, if she would provide bread for herself and her children, she must be separate from his ill-fame. I have known this man come to install himself in the chamber of a woman who loathed him, and say she should never take food without his company. I have known these men steal their children, whom they knew they had no means to maintain; take them into dissolute company, expose them to bodily danger, to frighten the poor woman, to whom, it seems, the fact that she had borne the pangs of their birth, and nourished their infancy, does not give an equal right to them. I do believe that this mode of kidnapping, and it is frequent enough in all classes of society, will be viewed by the next age as it is by Heaven now, and that the man who avails himself of the shelter of men's laws, to steal from a mother her own children, or arrogate any superior right in them, save that of superior virtue, will bear the stigma he deserves, in common with him who steals grown men from their mother-land, Men their hopes, and their homes. Since women have begun, in spite of every impediment, to think, such complaints of the injustice and subjection of their lot, the narrowness of their sphere, begin to be everywhere uttered and heard. Yet more: as a thinking, pure young woman naturally revolts at the idea of being educated, dressed, and exhibited in company mainly with a view to her attractiveness in men's eyes, so does she begin to question the propriety and even delicacy of a development which looks mainly to fitting her for the director of a future husband's household, the solace of his cares, and the healthful, faithful, exemplary mother of his children. All this she should be qualified for, because a true woman, therefore fitted for whatever comes fairly within the scope of a woman's probable duties. But to be a true woman implies something more, as well as this-implies qualities which will render her useful, respected, and happy, though it should be her destiny to lead an independent life. It is not the part of a true woman to affect a natural aversion, an unconquerable antipathy to the married state. It is that which may, from infancy, be considered her probable destiny, but by no means inevitable. Affection unrequited or misplaced, the death of a loved one, a failure to recognize in any one who proffers marked attentions those qualities of mind and heart which are essential to an absorbing attachment-any or all of these may render celibacy the path of honor, peace, and happiness. Nay, in the eastern half of this Union, the mere numerical preponderance of women renders it mathematically certain that a large portion of them must live unmarried. It is the dictate of wisdom, therefore, no less than of female dignity and delicacy, that every woman should be educated for independent usefulness and happiness, as well as to discharge wisely and nobly the duties of a wife and mother. If the young women of our day are not impelled to an immodest and degrading anxiety to marry, it is because the purity of their nature overrules and subdues the base influences whereby they are surrounded. A maiden so educated that her substantial acquirements are such as to suppose the state of wedlock as their sphere of activity, and these set off by accomplishments which are plainly intended to fix the regard and win the admiration of men, is inevitably tempted to regard marriage as necessary to her future happiness, apart from any sense of deep affection for him whom she is to accept as a husband. In the plan of life which naturally unfolds itself to her half-unconscious reveries, marriage implies emancipation from a state of social infancy-implies an assured position and enlarged opportunities. All this, so far as it tends to reconcile her to a suitor not profoundly respected and devotedly loved, is a snare-a pitfall! Every one will readily admit that, to a pure and sensitive woman, celibacy must be immeasurably preferable, not merely to an unworthy marriage, but to one in which perfect confidence and affection shall be wanting. Yet how many who will readily confess this, yet, in practice, habitually and pointedly disregard it! Woman must be freed from this degrading bondage. She must be emancipated from the frequent necessity of choosing between a union at which her soul revolts, and a life of galling dependence | on remoter relatives, or of precarious struggle for daily bread. She must be assured a wider field for exertions in productive industry and the useful arts. She must have conceded to her such a share in these pursuits that the average reward of her industry shall equal that of man's in proportion to its actual value. Now, the male teacher of a district school, in winter, is paid fully twice as much as the woman who teaches that same school quite as ably and faithfully in the season when labor meets a wider demand and a larger average reward. So in the cotton or woolen factory; so in the farming household. And until the sphere of female employment be greatly widened, so it must continue to be. If but two-fifths of the work to be done is allotted to women, while the balance is monopolized by men, and this allotment is sustained by an obdurate, unreasoning public sentiment, which brands as indelicate the woman who engages in the employments socially forbidden to her sex, then it is idle to hope that, so long as this arrangement prevails, the position of Woman can be materially improved. Industry and its reward being the only barrier for the great mass of women as well as men against starvation or pauperism, it is evident the force of competition among that half of the human family to whom but a third of the labor is assigned, must inevitably keep the mass of them ever in comparative thraldom and pauperism. RIGHTS OF WOMAN'-the right to vote, to be elected to office, to serve on juries, fight battles, &c., &c.—if these are calculated to aid her industrial and social emancipation, let them by all means be defined and established. The present political vassalage of Woman is defensible only on the assumption that she does not desire its termination. Whenever a majority of the women shall authentically demand an equality of political franchises with men, I see not how any sincere republican can resist their requirement. It is a fixed and fundamental principle of our system that govern. ments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed; and that so long as Woman shall tacitly consent and prefer to remain in a state of political non-entity, so long may that state continue without injustice. Harriet Martineau, indeed, says, in substance, "I object to this vassalage, and claim my full equal rights as an intelligent and adult human being, responsible for my acts to the laws of the land. Those laws I have never in any form assented to, yet they tax me, control me, threaten to imprison and to hang me; why should I be de. nied my equal voice in choosing those who are to make, alter and execute them? If other women are too weak, too ignorant, too servile to claim or enjoy these rights, how can that affect my claim to them?" The answer to this imports that reason, convenience dictate that the uniform action of an immense majority of a class be held conclusive as to the interests and wishes of that class. Political franchises are not intrinsically valuable—are but means to ends. What is imminently needed by Woman is, not eligibility to office nor a more direct and visible potency in law-making, unless these shall lead to enlarged opportunities, more ample and varied employment, a more liberal and just recompense for industry, and, in fine, a position of real and heartfelt independence, so long as she shall choose to preserve it. Now the portionless but refined young woman, unless she have faculty and ability for the very limited sphere of employment proffered to her sex as instructers, must choose between an early marriage and a precarious life of ill-paid, thankless servitude. This must be amended. Room for ladies!' says the man of the omnibus or stage-coach, and he is esteemed a sorry sort of American who will not promptly and cheerfully surrender his easy corner of the vehicle and take a seat outside, though in the face of a drenching north-easter, to afford the spinster he never saw before, and will probably never see again, the most eligible position. She will never thank nor even recognise him; but what of that? Gallantry demands of him the sacrifice of his own comfort to that of a stranger utterly indifferent to him, and he makes it without hesitation. I like this gallantry. I see in it a confused acknowledgment of ages of gross injustice-a chivalric remorse-a poetic reparation. It does not reach far, but it is very good so far as it goes. Why should it stop at the coach-door? Why not step into the fancy store, the engraver's shop, and wherever else man usurps employments which women might aptly fill, and say, ' Room here for ladies!' Away with you, salesmen, book-keepers, &c. to the farm, the prairie and the wilderness, to subdue and till the earth, and leave these more delicate functions to those whom you have hitherto shut out of usefulness and independence or compelled to drudge in some menial capacity for a paltry dollar a week. Room for THE IRISH MOTHER'S LAMENT. ladies! Room!-Alas! that all this should be too 'Blame not thyself too much' I said, 'nor blame 273 (Our place is much) the parasitic forms Like perfect music unto noble words; And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time Distinct in individualities, But like each other even as those who love. THE IRISH MOTHER'S LAMENT. Suggested by seeing "The Pauper's Funeral, by F. W. Edmonds." BY MRS. ELIZABETH T. HERBERT. AH! little did I think, my boy, When we crossed the briny foam, To seek in other lands the bread We could not find at home. Ah! little did I think that thou Would lay thee down and die, Just as the welcome shore was gained, And bread so very nigh. Ah! Dermot, darling-sorry aid Had'st thou on foreign strand : A grave, and coffin, had been thine E'en in our starving land. Could I but lay thee 'neath the sod I would not weep such lonely tears, VOL. II-NO. VI. To send the coronach's low wail Upon the midnight air. And from that grave my thanks should rise From hunger's pain intense Alas! we fled from famine's grasp. And met the pestilence. Oh! Virgin Mother! hear my prayer To Him the undefiled; That He would guard from fever's rage, My last-my only child. Ay, gather flowers, my precious gem, To deck thy brother's grave; Perchance thine own, ere many suns, Shall sink beneath the wave. If so this widow'd, childless heart, WE once knew a young lady who had formed an attachment to the son of a rich merchant, a young man of talents, who, being one of a very large family, had little beside the profession of law to begin with. This want of fortune in the lover being considered a serious evil, we well recollect the enthusiastic manner of a female friend, who exclaimed in an ecstasy of admiration, "Mary is so attached to Frank that she is willing to live in a house without folding doors!" Such romantic self-devotion, we are happy to say, met with a happier fate than sometimes rewards such sacrifices, and our young lady readers will be happy to learn, that as " Frank" got on in his professional career, not only the folding-doors, but all the other must-haves of fashionable life came in due succession; so that at this present time both our romantic heroine and her chosen, are as fashionable, common-place and worldly people as can be found in the most recherché quarter of the city. How different is the country standard in these matters! When a young couple think of marrying, then the first thought is shelter-warmth room to move about-facilities for doing work-or some other of the ideas primitive in human life. No question about two or five stories; no plans for additions and tea-rooms; no criticisms of paint and paper; no inquiry as to "modern improvements." Does the house leak? Is there a cellar; any convenience for baking? do the chimneys draw? is water accessible? and so on throughout the whole round of original wants. We do not say that this humble estimate of needs is for its own sake to be preferred to a more fastidious one; or that those who begin life with a consciousness of so few wants are necessarily better secured against worldliness than their more refined city "humans;" we do but notice the contrast, having had an opportunity to see it in its full force. The log-house in which it was our fate first to look western life in the face, was a rather unusually rough one, built when the country was quite new, before a road was made, or any access be 274 yond a bridle-path through the woods, or, more properly, the "openings." Its dimensions were twenty-four feet by eighteen-no great area, but not encroached upon by the chimney, which was carried up outside, after the fashion of what children call a jackstraw house, i. e., with sticks laid in a square, crossing at the corners. The portion of the wall against which leaned this very primitive-looking outlet for the smoke, was composed of a great slab of rough stone; otherwise, all around was wood-a boundless provision for roast pig after Charles Lamb's fashion. The clay with which the stick chimney was lined, fell off, day by day, so that its catching fire in spots was almost a daily occurrence, and continual watchfulness was required, especially in the evening, since a midnight bonfire in the woods is no very uncommon accident. The hearth which belonged to this chimney was quite in keeping; for it was made of rough fragments, split off the boulders, which are the only stone to be found in that part of the country; and laid with such indifference to level, that some points were from four to six inches higher than their neighbors. No mantlepiece surmounted this savage fire-place; but a crotched post on one side supported a wooden crane, which swung far enough above the fire not to catch, unless the blaze was more aspiring than ordinary. On one side of the fire-place was a ladder, leading to the loft above; on the other, a few rough shelves, on which to arrange the household apparatus-so few, that all our previous notions of the incapacity of a log-house had not taught us to reduce our stock low enough. An additional closet, outside the house, proved to be one of the first requisites for a new home; and besides this, a centre-table, which had once done drawing-room duty, was put in requisition as a cupboard, a tablecloth to keep out dust being the substitute for a door. If the arrangements to be made within this small space of twenty-four by eighteen had been only those of kitchen and dining-room, the neces |