ment.

"A woman's health is her capital. In certain ways of work she obtains
more income, but she spends on her capital to do it. In another way
she may get less income, and yet increase her capital. A woman cannot
work at dressmaking, tailoring, or any other sedentary employment, ten
hours a day, year in and out, without enfeebling her constitution,
impairing her eyesight, and bringing on a complication of complaints,
but she can sweep, wash, cook, and do the varied duties of a
well-ordered house with modern arrangements, and grow healthier every
year. The times, in New England, when all women did housework a part
of every day, were the times when all women were healthy. At present,
the heritage of vigorous muscles, firm nerves, strong backs, and
cheerful physical life has gone from American women, and is taken up
by Irish women. A thrifty young man I have lately heard of married a
rosy young Irish girl, quite to the horror of his mother and sisters,
but defended himself by the following very conclusive logic: 'If I
marry an American girl, I must have an Irish girl to take care of her;
and I cannot afford to support both.'

"Besides all this, there is a third consideration, which I humbly
commend to my friend Letitia. The turn of her note speaks her a girl
of good common sense, with a faculty of hitting the nail square on the
head; and such a girl must see that nothing is more likely to fall out
than that she will some day be married. Evidently, our fair friend is
born to rule; and at this hour, doubtless, her foreordained throne and
humble servant are somewhere awaiting her.

"Now domestic service is all the while fitting a girl physically,
mentally, and morally for her ultimate vocation and sphere,--to be a
happy wife and to make a happy home. But factory work, shop work, and
all employments of that sort, are in their nature essentially
undomestic,--entailing the constant necessity of a boarding-house
life, and of habits as different as possible from the quiet routine of
home. The girl who is ten hours on the strain of continued,
unintermitted toil feels no inclination, when evening comes, to sit
down and darn her stockings, or make over her dresses, or study any of
those multifarious economies which turn a wardrobe to the best
account. Her nervous system is flagging; she craves company and
excitement; and her dull, narrow room is deserted for some place of
amusement or gay street promenade. And who can blame her?