Aunt Jemima On The Women Question

Aunt Jemiina gave a real old-fashioned quilting party the other day in honr of a neice who was visiting her, and freed her niind in this little lecture to her guests, who were all young girls. "We are livin'. gals, in a f ast age- a Trogressiv3 age, they cali it, when woruem are a-puttin on airs and a-settin' up to be equals of man. 'Twan't so when I was a gal. Women didn't then pretend that they'd a right to vote, and ging bass, and speechify in public, Gals didn't go galivanting off to colleges and tmivarsities, and rack their brains over elogies and furrin' lingos, till they w&s turned inside ont. "Do you suppose that, if I'd ben one f that sort of young women. Solón Pettibone would ever have took a lancy to me, and choosc me out of twenty other gals that wasjust a-dyingforhim? For Squire Pettibone, whose weepin' relict I now am, was a great man in his day, a member of the school coniiuittee, a justice of the peace. headof the board of selek men. He served two terms in the State Legislatur, and was even talk d of for Congress'. "He was a man oí deep Krnin', and freat powers of mini. Hereadagood eal, but it was mostly inscience books, too deep for me. Whenever in his weekly newspapers, he come to a artikel headed "Wonien's Spere," "Advica to Wives,1' aud sich like, he 'd iusist on readin' it to me, eTen if I had to leave aiy salt rísiu' a-ruuniu' over, ,jpr the dinner-table a-standin' in tlie floor to listen. Sometimus of an eveniu' arter the children wus all asleup, an' I hot, in the cüimbiv córner a-darnin' Btockings or doin up my week"s mendin', he'd take dauwD sume learned votum from tho book caso that he allers kepl under lock and key, and if he come icrost anything muited to my needs or capacity, he kiudljr read it to me. E most all of the laruin' I ever got come in this way. I remeoiber jest as if ït was yistorday bow kinder pleased-like he'd look over at me and the woik í was !t doin which he remi sume line from Sueridaa Knowles, beginnin': "Women actthcirparts Whea they do maki; tüeir orJered housiholds kuuw'em; r these words from nnottier great poet Shakspeare or Martin i arquharTupper, I disreraember whii'h: "What do I miwt admira in woman Js her aCcctious. but not her intelek." 'Onc line of Vergil was a petikelar favorite of his'n. He said itin his sort of hectorin' way to me so often that, though I dou't know no Latin (I should hope not), 1 larneel this lingo by heart, and can repeat it naow: "Varlum et inuUblle semper fsemina," - "Rasband said it rneant more lickle than the winged winds is woman. "At famerly prayers, which he ke-1 up constant, and wherehe was the most edifyiu' of men; ho used to ransack the Scripturs for passages improvin' to me and the gals, such as: " 'Wives, be in subjection to jour hnsbands." " 'Wliose adornin' let it not be that outard odorniu' of platin' tho hair or wearin' of gold. or of puttin' on of apparel. but the orncrment of a meek and quiet sperit'. ¦ 'But the varses he set the most by was them of King Solomon desoribin' the vartuons woman. I know the huil on 'em by heart. Them booksupon woman's spe:e by Dr. Toodand Dr. F'ilton eome out jest afore he died, and was the solace of his last hours. How many times when I was a ministerin' aroun' his dyin' pillow, he (juoted to me them lovely words of Dr. Fulton: 'Woman is God's first gift to man, and to be helper to man is no'olerthan to be queen of heaven. For this God created you. For this he presarves you.' '¦One day, the Squire added. smilin' 'Jemima, you've been to me a meek, lovin', industrus, devoted, obejentwife. I shall ieave you the income of a third of my estáte as long as you remain my widder. No son of my own can bear ray name and honors, but the Pettibone name must be kep up, and t'other twothirds- the huil when you are done with it goes to Solon Pettibone, my seeond cousin's son, who is named arter me. When the al gel so uppish and independent in t eir ideas as our gals, they'd better be eft to acratch for themselves. I loare 'em just one dollar apiece.' "No, Susan Maria, I don't think that was too bad. Our gals wen agiin' their par's teachins, and it was his duty to inish '.'m "For nigh upon thirty years I was biest with this high, itnprovin' companionship, and, though a poor cretur at best, I tried ia my humble way to be a 'helprneet' for my liusband. Thesqulre was a ma.ster-land for good victuals, añil I made his likens and dislikins in tiiis Jine sich a study, that I ent'rely won his heart. (And, gals, the straightest road to any man's heart leads rigiit through his stummick.) From rise to set of sun, my work was never done. I looked well arter the ways of my household. I never ate the bread of idleness. My husband was known in the gales, when ha sot among the elders of the land, and that was glory enough for me. "You ask if the Squire was kind to me, Matilda Jane. He made me keep my place; I don't suppose you'd cali that kind, but I was eontent. If I'd gono on the way lots ot women in tnese days are goin' on, he'd a shut me up in a lunatio asylum, ani' sarved me right. Ho had atremenjus will of his ovrn, and I didn't darse to oppose it. I do believe that if he'd a smit mo on one cheek I'd a turned him tother one also. In all thiugs he was lord and master. I had promised to sarve honor and obey him, and I kept my word. If I"d a sot up my Ebenezer, and tried to have my say cuntrarywise to his'n, I should a-ronsed a sperit no power on airth could quell. You have heerd of the iron hand in the glove of velvet That was Squire Pettibouo exactly. He jest quietly took it for granted that his wonl was law - like unto that of the Meds and Persians, which changeth not. 'My gals - thore was three on 'em - didn't grow up as thev'd orter under such pions teaehin's. Theyused to say to me; 'Mar, you're a drudge and a slave. You "don't dare say your s mi's your own - you are afraid and liaint got the sperit of the worm t! at turns when it's trod upon. Par kniuka all woruen his inferiors, and he's allus weepin' an' bewailin' the heavy cross laid upon him, in havin' his children all darters instid of sons. (It wao a htavy cross. I never could forgivo myself for loadin' him with such a buréen) "JenDy, our eldest, though her par kept a-dingin' into her ears John Millon's words, 'One toneue is enough for a woman' - Jenny, she went on and leained Latin, Fronch and Germán in spite of him. He used to cali her his polyglot darter. Susanna, she went through college, and then up and studied medicine. Ruth, arter pettin' a higher-up edication, graderwaited from the Boston School of Oratory, and now reads and elocutes in public. Jenny, she's married, and keeps house in a new-fangled, labor-savin' sort of way, and seems to hav her say about everything. Her husband thinks there's oniy oae perfect woman on the airth, and seems so dazed and dumfounded like at his luck in marryin' that one, that he don't even hare sperit enough to manage his own household. "Susanna says that she is wedded to hor profession ; Ruth, who allers was a saucy minx, declares that she is wedded fr her art; that she don't wast to be like her mar- a ntan's slare while he lines, and his relict arter he is dead. They're bright, good lookin' girls, if ï do say it, and might hare their piek of the piek of the best, if t'want for their obstreporeous ways and highfalutin notioMS. "If Iheir par could come back to the airth, and see how things is a-goin on everywhere, even in the bosom of his own fanierly, he'd find hisself a-sayin' oftener than ever, 'Wa-al' this ere is a eurus workl!' and would be likely to make still more frekent use of that f averite phrase of his'n, whea things in the world didn'tgo on to suit him, 'O témpora! O Moses!' "