d thanks to her.
When last year they were acting the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and all
the boxes began to roar with great coarse heehaws at Titania hugging
Bottom's long long ears--to me, considering these things, it seemed that
there were a hundred other male brutes squatted round about, and treated
just as reasonably as Bottom was. Their Titanias lulled them to sleep
in their laps, summoned a hundred smiling delicate household fairies to
tickle their gross intellects and minister to their vulgar pleasures;
and (as the above remarks are only supposed to apply to honest women
loving their own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck is
in the way to open their eyes, and point out their folly. Cui bono? let
them live on in their deceit: I know two lovely ladies who will read
this, and will say it is just very likely, and not see in the least,
that it has been written regarding THEM.

Another point of sentiment, and one curious to speculate on. Have
you not remarked the immense works of art that women get through? The
worsted-work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but these are
among the old-fashioned in the country), the bushels of pincushions,
the albums they laboriously fill, the tremendous pieces of music they
practise, the thousand other fiddle-faddles which occupy the attention
of the dear souls--nay, have we not seen them seated of evenings in a
squad or company, Louisa employed at the worsted-work before mentioned,
Eliza at the pincushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches, and,
in the midst, Theodosia with one of the candles, reading out a novel
aloud? Ah! my dear sir, mortal creatures must be very hard put to it for
amusement, be sure of that, when they are forced to gather together in
a company and hear novels read aloud! They only do it because they can't
help it, depend upon it: it is a sad life, a poor pastime. Mr. Dickens,
in his American book, tells of the prisoners at the silent prison,
how they had ornamented their rooms, some of them with a frightful
prettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy-work is of this
sort often--only prison work, done because there was no other
exercising-ground for their poor little thoughts and fingers; and hence
these wonderful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes woven,
these sonatas learned. By everything sentimental, when I see two kind
innocent fresh-cheeked young women go to a piano, and sit down opposite
to it upon two chairs piled wit