held by the
ancients!--treated like beasts of burden, and denied the privilege of all
mental accomplishment. When the Grecian matrons affected to weep over the
slain, after some victory of Themistocles, the Athenian general bade them
"dry their tears, and practise a single virtue in atonement of all their
weaknesses." It was to their single women the philosophers of the portico
addressed their lessons; not to the domestic drudges, whom they considered
only worthy to inspect the distaffs of their slaves, and produce sons for
the service of the country.

In Bath, Brighton, and other spinster colonies of this island, the demand
for such a work would be prodigious. The sale of canary-birds and poodles
might suffer a temporary depression in consequence; but this is
comparatively unimportant. Perhaps--who knows--so positive a recognition
of our estate as a definite class of the community, might lead to the long
desiderated establishment of a lay convent, somewhat similar to the
_beguinages_ of Flanders, though less ostensibly subject to religious
law--a convent where single gentlewomen might unite together in their
meals and devotions, under the government of a code of laws set forth in
their tabby-bound Koran.

Methinks I see it--a modern temple of Vesta, without its tell-tale
fires--square, rectangular, simple, airy, isolated--chaste as Diana and
quiet as the grave--the frescoed walls commemorating the legend of Saint
Ursula and her eleven thousand--the sacrifice of Jephtha's
daughter--Elizabeth Carter translating Epictetus--Harriet Martineau
revising the criminal code. In the hall, dear Editor, should hang the
portrait of Christopher North--in that locality, appropriately, a Kit-cat!

Ponder upon this! The distinction is worthy consideration. As the
newspapers say, it is an "unprecedented opportunity for investment!" For
the sole Helicon of the institution shall be--"Blackwood's Entire" its
lady abbess--

Your humble servant to command,
(for the old maids of England,)

TABITHA GLUM.
_1st Jan. 1844.
Lansdowne, Bath._

* * * * *

MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.

PART VIII.

"Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in the pitched battle heard
Loud 'la