d gentleman was the other day.

--There are no such women as the Boston women, Sir,--he said. Forty-two
degrees, north latitude, Rome, Sir, Boston, Sir! They had grand women in
old Rome, Sir,--and the women bore such men--children as never the world
saw before. And so it was here, Sir. I tell you, the revolution the
Boston boys started had to run in woman's milk before it ran in man's
blood, Sir!

But confound the make-believe women we have turned loose in our
streets!--where do they come from? Not out of Boston parlors, I trust.
Why, there is n't a beast or a bird that would drag its tail through the
dirt in the way these creatures do their dresses. Because a queen or
a duchess wears long robes on great occasions, a maid-of-all-work or a
factory-girl thinks she must make herself a nuisance by trailing through
the street, picking up and carrying about with her pah!--that's what
I call getting vulgarity into your bones and marrow. Making believe be
what you are not is the essence of vulgarity. Show over dirt is the
one attribute of vulgar people. If any man can walk behind one of these
women and see what she rakes up as she goes, and not feel squeamish, he
has got a tough stomach. I wouldn't let one of 'em into my room without
serving 'em as David served Saul at the cave in the wilderness,--cut off
his skirts, Sir! cut off his skirts!

I suggested, that I had seen some pretty stylish ladies who offended in
the way he condemned.

Stylish women, I don't doubt,--said the Little Gentleman.--Don't tell me
that a true lady ever sacrifices the duty of keeping all about her sweet
and clean to the wish of making a vulgar show. I won't believe it of a
lady. There are some things that no fashion has any right to touch, and
cleanliness is one of those things. If a woman wishes to show that her
husband or her father has got money, which she wants and means to spend,
but doesn't know how, let her buy a yard or two of silk and pin it to
her dress when she goes out to walk, but let her unpin it before she
goes into the house;--there may be poor women that will think it worth
disinfecting. It is an insult to a respectable laundress to carry such
things into a house for her to deal with. I don't like the Bloomers any
too well,--in fact, I never saw but one, and she--or he, or it--had a
mob of boys after her, or whatever you call the creature, as if she had
been a----

The Little Gentleman stopped short,--flushed somewhat, and looked