Woman, like a flower, sprang to life in a garden of flowers,—sprang from the side of her lord, and took her place at his side, as a meet companion to share his earth-life, his joys, and his sorrows.

The Greeks believed that the gods collected everything that is beautiful in Nature, out of which they formed the first woman, and having crowned her brow with sunshine, intrusted her with the irresistible power of fascination.

It is certainly not less pleasant than natural to believe that woman was made of a more refined material than man; and it is doubtless true that every sincere worshipper of the beautiful delights to regard the "angel of his dreams" not only as an incarnation of all that is lovable, but as a divine spirituality,—a vision from a brighter and holier sphere.

An old writer remarks that in order to make an entirely beautiful woman, it would be necessary to take the head from Greece, the bust from Austria, the feet from Hindostan, the shoulders from Italy, the walk from Spain, and the complexion from England. At that rate she would be a mosaic in her composition; and the man who married her might well be said to have "taken up a collection."

However mystical may be the origin of woman, it is certain that we should look to the moral beauty of her life, rather than to her personal charms, in estimating the true value of her character. In her nature woman is a loyalist,—loyal to man and loyal to God. In all ages of the world, in all countries and under all circumstances, she has ever been distinguished for her patience, her fortitude, and her forbearance, as well as for those still higher and diviner attributes, her love and her devotion.

Endowed with charms which give her the power of conquest, woman ever delights in making conquests; and though she may sometimes "stoop to conquer," she never fails to elevate the conquered. With the smile of love resting on her brow, she aims to fulfil her mission by scattering flowers along the pathway of life, and inspiring the sterner sex with reverence for her virtues and for the angelhood of her nature.

The true woman exhibits a true womanhood in all she does, in all she says,—in her heart-life and in her world-life. Her love, once bestowed on him who is worthy of it, increases with her years and becomes as enduring as her life,—

Not only in the sincerity of her love, but in all her sympathies, in her quick sense of duty, and in her devotion to all that is good, right, and just, she discloses without being conscious of it the divinity of her character.

It is in sacred history that we find the earliest record of woman's virtues, acquirements, and achievements. It is there that we read of women who were not only distinguished for their exalted piety and exemplary habits of life, but who often excelled even the great men of renown in sagacity of purpose and in the exercise of sceptred power. It is in sacred history that we have the earliest account of the social and domestic relations of the human family, the most prominent of which is the institution of marriage.

The first marriage of which we have any account took place in a garden, without the usual preliminaries and ceremonies which have marked its solemnization in subsequent periods of the world's history; yet we must believe that it was the most august and sublime wedding that ever occurred. The witnesses of the ceremony were none other than the angels of God. Nature presented her choicest flowers, and the birds of Paradise sang the bridal hymn, while earth and sky rejoiced in the consummation of the "first match made in heaven."

It may be presumed, perhaps, that all matches are made in heaven; yet somehow or other, sad mistakes occur when least expected. Even our first parents, though placed in a garden of innocence, encountered a serpent in their pathway. It need not seem very strange, therefore, that "the course of true love never did run smooth." Yet there are but few who would not concur with Tennyson in thinking—

In affairs of the heart there is no such thing as accounting for the freaks of fancy, or the choice of dissimilar tastes. Singular as it may be, most people admire contrasts. In other words, like prefers unlike; the tall prefer the short; the beautiful the unbeautiful; and the perverse the reverse. In this way Nature makes up her counterparts with a view to assimilate her materials and bring harmony out of discord. It is from accords and discords that we judge of music and determine its degree of excellence. In wedded life even discords have their uses, since a family jar now and then is often attended with the happiest results, by bringing into timely exercise a higher degree of mutual forbearance, and inspiring the heart with a purer, sincerer, and diviner appreciation of the "silken tie."

There is no topic, perhaps, of deeper interest to a woman than that of wedlock. It is an event, when it does occur, which brightens or blasts forever her fondest hopes and her purest affections. The matrimonial question is therefore the great question of a woman's life. In deciding it, she takes a risk which determines the future of her heart-life. When the motive is stamped with the imperial seal of Heaven, it is certain the heart will recognize it as genuine, and trust in it. The language of love speaks for itself, sometimes in mysteries, sometimes in revelations. It is a telegraphic language which every woman understands, though written in hieroglyphics. Hence the preliminaries to wedlock, usually called courtships, are as various in their methods as the whims of the parties. In many parts of the world these methods are as amusing as they are singular.

In royal families matrimonial alliances are controlled by State policy, and the negotiations conducted through the agencies of ministerial confidants. In some Oriental countries, parents contract their sons and daughters in marriage while yet in their infancy, nor allow the parties an interview until of marriageable age, when the wedding ceremonies are performed, and the happy pair unveiled to behold each other for the first time. At such a moment "a penny for their thoughts" would be cheap enough. The philosophy of this absurd custom seems to be based on the classical idea that "love is blind." This may be true; yet blind though it be, the heart will always have its preference, and contrive some way or other to express it.

In some of the Molucca Islands, when a young man is too bashful to speak his love, he seizes the first opportunity that offers of sitting near the object of his affection, and tying his garments to hers. If she allows him to finish the knot, and neither cuts nor loosens it, she truly gives her consent to the marriage. If she merely loosens it, he is at liberty to try his luck again at a more propitious moment; but if she cuts the knot, there is an end of hope.

In Lapland it is death to marry a girl without the consent of her friends. When a young man proposes marriage, the friends of both parties meet to witness a race between them. The girl is allowed, at starting, the advantage of a third part of the race; if her lover does not overtake her, it is a penal offence for him ever to renew his offers of marriage. If the damsel favors his suit, she may run fast at first, to try his affection; but she will be sure to linger before she comes to the end of the race. In this way all marriages are made in accordance with inclination; and this is the probable reason of so much domestic contentment in that country.

In ancient times marriageable women were the subjects of bargain and sale, and were more generally obtained by purchase than courtship. The prices paid in some instances seem incredible, if not extortionate. Of course, "pearls of great price" were not to be had for the mere asking. Jacob purchased his wife, Rachel, at a cost of fourteen years hard labor.

The Babylonians, who were a practical people, gathered their marriageable daughters once a year from every district of their country, and sold them at auction to bachelors, who purchased them for wives, while the magistrates presided at the sales. The sums of money thus received for the beautiful girls were appropriated as dowries for the benefit of the less beautiful. Of course rich bachelors paid liberal prices for their choice, while poor bachelors, in accepting the less beautiful, generally obtained the best wives, with the addition of a handsome sum of money. In this way all parties were accommodated who aspired to matrimonial felicity.

But in these modern times most of our young men, instead of purchasing their wives, prefer to sell themselves at the highest price the market affords. Fortune-hunting is therefore regarded as legitimate. In the mind of a fast young man wealth has a magical influence, which is sure to invest the possessor, if a marriageable young lady, however unattractive, with irresistible charms. If his preliminary inquiry—Is she rich?—be answered in the affirmative, the siege commences at once. Art is so practised as to conceal art, and create, if possible, a favorable impression. An introduction is sought and obtained. Interview follows interview in quick succession. The declaration is made; the diamond ring presented and graciously accepted; consent obtained, and the happy day set. Rumor reports an eligible match in high life, and the fashionable world is on tiptoe with expectation.

But instead of its being an "affair of the heart," it is really a very different affair,—nothing but a hasty transaction in fancy stocks. And if the officiating clergyman were to employ an appropriate formula of words in celebrating the nuptials, he would address the parties thus:—

"Romeo, wilt thou have this delicate constitution, this bundle of silks and satins, this crock of gold, for thy wedded wife?"—"I will." "Juliet, wilt thou have this false pretence, this profligate in broadcloth, this unpaid tailor's bill, for thy wedded husband?"—"I will."

The happy pair are then pronounced man and wife. And what is the result? A brief career of dissipation, a splendid misery, a reduction to poverty, domestic dissension, separation, and finally a divorce. But how different is the result when an honest man, actuated by pure motives, marries a sincere woman, whose only wealth consists in her love and in her practical good sense!

It is man who degrades woman, not woman who degrades man. Asiatic monarchs have ever regarded woman, not as a companion, but as a toy, a picture, a luxury of the palace; while men of common rank throughout Asia and in many parts of Europe treat her as a slave, a drudge, a "hewer of wood and a drawer of water," and make it her duty to wait, instead of being waited on; to attend, instead of being attended. Out of this sordid idea of woman's destiny has grown in all probability the custom of regarding her as property. Influenced by this idea, there are still some persons to be found among the lower classes, even in our own country, who do not hesitate to sell, buy, or exchange their wives for a material consideration. Some of our American forefathers, in the early settlement of Jamestown, purchased their wives from England, and paid in tobacco, at the rate of one hundred and fifty pounds each, and thought it a fair transaction. Perhaps this is the reason why ladies are so generally disgusted with the use of the "Virginia weed."

But the doctrine that woman was created the inferior of man, though venerable for its antiquity, is not less fallacious than venerable. It is simply an assertion which does not appear to be sustained by historical facts. It is true that woman is called in Scripture the "weaker vessel;" weaker in physical strength she may be, but it does not follow that she is weaker in mind, wit, judgment, shrewdness, tact, or moral power.

The sterner sex need not flatter themselves, therefore, that superiority of muscle necessarily implies superiority of mind. History sufficiently discloses the fact that woman has often proved herself not only a match, but an over-match, for man, in wielding the sceptre, the sword, and the pen, to say nothing of the tongue. Illustrations of this great fact, like coruscations of light, sparkle along the darkened track of the ages, and abound in the living present.

But in looking into the broad expanse of the historical past, we cannot attempt to do more than glance here and there at a particular star, whose undiminished lustre has given it a name and a fame, not only glorious, but immortal. As in all ages there have been representative men, so in all ages there have been representative women, who crowned the age in which they lived with honor, and gave tone to its sentiment and character.

In the career of Semiramis, who lived about two thousand years before the Christian era, we have a crystallization of those subtle attributes of female character, which are not less remarkable for their diversity than extensive in their power and influence. It will be remembered that she was the reputed child of a goddess, a foundling exposed in a desert, fed for a year by doves, discovered by a shepherd, and adopted by him as his own daughter. When grown to womanhood, she married the governor of Nineveh, and assisted him in the siege and conquest of Bactria. The wisdom and tact which she manifested in this enterprise, and especially her personal beauty, attracted the attention of the King of Assyria, who mysteriously relieved her of her husband, obtained her hand in wedlock, resigned to her his crown, and declared her queen and sole empress of Assyria. The aspirations of Semiramis became at once unbounded; and fearing her royal consort might repent the hasty step he had taken, she abruptly extinguished his life, and soon succeeded in distinguishing her own. She levelled mountains, filled up valleys, built aqueducts, commanded armies, conquered neighboring nations, penetrated into Arabia and Ethiopia, amassed vast treasures, founded many cities, and wherever she appeared, spread terror and consternation. Under her auspices and by means of her wealth, Babylon, the capital of her empire, became the most renowned and magnificent city in the world. Her might was invincible; her right she regarded as co-extensive with her power. Her prompt action was the secret of her success.

When she was informed, on one occasion, that Babylon had revolted, she left her toilet half made, put herself at the head of an armed force, and instantly quelled the revolt. She was a woman of strong passions and of strong mind, and, what is now very uncommon, of strong nerves. And yet her peerless beauty and the fascination of her manners appear to have been as irresistible as the sway of her sceptre. The fatality of her personal charms, her inordinate love of power, and the evils which arise from the indulgence of vain aspirations, indicate the lessons which are taught by her career. In the twenty-fifth year of her reign, her life was suddenly terminated by the violent hand of her own son. After death she was transformed, as it was believed, into a dove, under the symbol of which she received divine honors throughout Assyria.

It would seem that literary women were not less known in ancient times than at the present day. Sappho took her place in the galaxy of literary fame six hundred years before Christ. So sublime, and yet so sweet, were her lyric strains that the Greeks pronounced her the tenth Muse. Longinus cites from her writings specimens of the sublime, and extols her genius as unrivalled. Beneficent as talented, she instituted an academy of music for young maidens, wrote nine books of lyric verse, and many other compositions of great merit. But of all her writings, however, only one or two of her odes have survived. Her fate was an unhappy one. She became violently enamoured of a young man of Mitylene, who was so ungallant as not to reciprocate her attachment; and being reduced to a state of hopeless despair, she precipitated herself into the sea from the steep cliff of Leucate, ever since called the "Lover's Leap."

In this connection we ought not to omit the name of Aspasia, who, at a period two centuries later than Sappho, emerged like a star in a darkened sky and charmed the age in which she lived with the fascinations of her rhetoric. She was not less stately and queen-like in her person than accomplished in her manners. It is said of her, that she possessed rhetorical powers which were unequalled by the public orators of her time; she was as learned as eloquent. Plato says she was the instructress of Socrates. She also instructed Pericles in the arts of oratory, and afterwards married him. He was largely indebted to her for his finish of education and elegance of manners, for which he was so much distinguished.

So charming were Aspasia's conversational powers that the Athenians sought every opportunity to introduce their wives into her presence, that they might learn from her the art of employing an elegant diction. On one occasion when the Athenian army had been disheartened, she appeared in the public assembly of the people and pronounced an oration, which so thrilled their breasts as to inspire new hopes, and induce them to rally and redeem their cause.

Among female sovereigns but few have evinced more tact or talent in an emergency than Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra. She was a native of Syria, a descendant of Ptolemy; married Odenatus, a Saracen, and after his death succeeded to the throne, about the year of our Lord 267. She had been highly educated, wrote and spoke many different languages, had studied the beauties of Homer and Plato under the tuition of Longinus, and was not less renowned for her beauty, melody of voice, and elegance of manners, than for her heroic deeds. In the five years of her reign she conducted many warlike expeditions, extended her empire, compelling Cappadocia, Bithynia, and Egypt to recognize her authority, and acknowledge her "Queen of the East,"—a favorite title which she had assumed. Her power had now become so extended as to alarm the Roman government for their own safety, who sent Aurelian with a formidable army to subjugate and reduce her empire to a province. Zenobia, after being defeated in two severe battles, retired with her forces to Palmyra, her capital, fortified it, and resolved never to surrender. Aurelian invested the city with his entire army, and in the course of the siege was severely wounded by an arrow, and being thus disabled, the progress of the siege was so far retarded as to give the citizens of Rome occasion to utter against him bitter invectives, and to question the character of the "arrow" that had pierced him. In other words, they accused him of complicity. In his letter of self-justification to the senate, he says, "The Roman people speak with contempt of the war I am waging against a woman. They are ignorant of the character and the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations of stones and arrows, and every species of missile weapons. The walls of the city are strongly guarded, and artificial fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with desperate courage. Still I trust in the gods for a favorable result."

In this letter the stern and proud Roman general frankly admits the might of woman. Feeling humiliated and almost despairing of success, he now attempted to procure a surrender of the city by negotiation, and offered the most liberal advantages to the queen. In her reply she said to him, "It is not by negotiation, but by arms, that the submission you require of me can be obtained." This laconic reply was certainly worthy of a heroine and a queen. Yet after a protracted and desperate defence, and finding that her allies, instead of coming to her relief as they promised, had accepted bribes from the enemy to remain at a distance, she saw that all was lost, and mounting her fleetest dromedary, sought to escape into Persia, but was overtaken on the banks of the Euphrates and captured. When brought into the presence of her conqueror, and asked how she dared resist the power of Rome, she replied, "Because I recognize Aurelian alone as my sovereign."

Zenobia was sent to Rome to grace the triumph of Aurelian. She entered the city on foot, preceded by her own chariot, with which she had designed, in the event of having won the victory, to make her grand entry into Rome as the triumphant "Queen of the East." But the fortunes of war subverted her ambitious scheme, and subjected her to the mortification of gracing a Roman triumph; yet for this indignity she felt that she was somewhat compensated in knowing that her appearance in Rome would create a sensation. In the grand procession she followed her chariot, so laden with jewels and chains of gold as to require the support of a slave to prevent her from fainting beneath the weight.

After enjoying the satisfaction of a triumph, Aurelian treated his beautiful captive with kind consideration, and provided for her a delightful residence on the banks of the Tiber, where she passed the remainder of her days, honored by all as a matron of rare virtue and accomplishments. She lived to educate her daughters, and to see them contract noble alliances. Her descendants were ranked among the first citizens of Rome, and did not become extinct until after the fifth century.

Near the commencement of the fifteenth century there appeared in France a brilliant meteor,—a youthful maiden, whose development of character was as mystical as it was heroic. Joan of Arc was born of obscure parents, in an obscure village on the borders of Lorraine, and was bred in a school of simplicity. She possessed beauty, united with an amiable temper and generous sympathies. In her religious faith she was sincere, even angelic. Her love of country was ardent and irrepressible. Finding her country-men distracted by a bitter partisan feeling, she identified herself with the patriots, and desired to secure the coronation of Prince Charles, as the only means, in her belief, of restoring the authority of the legitimate government. The reigning king had become hopelessly demented, and anarchy prevailed in almost every part of his dominions.

The rival houses of Orleans and Burgundy were contending for the supremacy, and had entered upon a career of murder and massacre, instead of adopting a regular system of warfare. Both parties invoked the aid of the English, who interfered in behalf of Burgundy; but instead of affording relief, their interference only imposed still weightier calamities on the country. At this crisis a prophecy became current among the people, that a virgin would appear and rid France of her enemies. This prophecy reached the ear of Joan of Arc, and inspired her with the belief that she was the chosen one of Heaven to accomplish the work.

In confirmation of this belief, she heard mysterious voices which came to her in her dreams, and which she regarded as divine communications, directing her to enter upon her great mission. On conferring with her parents in relation to the matter, they advised her to abandon her mad scheme, and desired her to marry and remain with them in her native village; but she declined, insisting that the current prediction—"France shall be saved by a virgin"—alluded to her. The English army had already besieged Orleans, and all hope of saving the city seemed lost. Her friends, regarding her as endowed with supernatural powers, provided her with a war-horse and a military costume, and sent her with an escort to the court of Prince Charles, whom she had never seen, but whose cause she had espoused.

He received her with distrust, though he desired her proffered assistance. In order to avoid being charged with having faith in sorcery, he handed her over to a commission of ecclesiastics, to ascertain whether she was inspired of Heaven, or instigated by an evil spirit. Among other tests, the ecclesiastics desired her to perform miracles. She replied, "Bring me to Orleans, and you shall witness a miracle; the siege shall be raised, and Prince Charles shall be crowned king at Rheims." They approved her project, and she received the rank of a military commander.

She then demanded a mysterious sword which she averred had been concealed by a hero of the olden time within the walls of an ancient church. On search being made, the sword was found and delivered to her. In a short time, with this mysterious sword in hand, she appeared at the head of an enthusiastic army, within sight of the besieged city of Orleans. The English army was astonished at the novel apparition. She advanced, and demanded a surrender of the city, but was indignantly refused; yet the citizens of Orleans were elate with joy at the prospect of relief. Joan boldly assaulted the outposts, and carried them. The besieged citizens, who had escaped outside the walls, now rallied under her banner, and swelled the ranks of her army. Fort after fort was captured. The English fought with desperation. Joan, cheering on her brave forces, and calling on them to follow, seized a scaling-ladder, and ascended the enemy's breastworks, when she was pierced with an arrow in the shoulder, and fell into the fosse. Her undaunted followers rescued her, when she, seeing her banner in danger, though faint and bleeding, rushed forward, seized and bore it off in triumph. The English army, amazed at this, and believing her more than human, became panic-stricken, and retreated in confusion. In their flight they lost their commander and many of their bravest men. Thus, in one week after her arrival at Orleans, she compelled the English to abandon the siege. In truth, she had performed a miracle, as her country-men believed, and as she had promised the ecclesiastics she would do. For this brilliant achievement she acquired the title, "Maid of Orleans."

In addition to this, she subsequently fought several severe battles with the English and defeated them. Even the sight of her approaching banner often terrified the enemy into a surrender. In less than three months from the commencement of her career, she saw Prince Charles crowned king at Rheims. In gratitude for her pre-eminent and timely services in his cause, Charles issued his royal edict ennobling her and her family. Not long after this, the opposing faction of King Charles captured the Maid of Orleans, as she was now called, and imprisoned her in a strong fortress. She attempted to escape by leaping the walls, but was secured and transferred to the custody of the English. The University of Paris, at the instance of dominant ecclesiastics, demanded her trial on the charge of sorcery and the assumption of divine powers. The judges, intolerant as the priests, condemned her to be burned at the stake. Her friends were overawed, and failed to interfere in her behalf. The only condition in her sentence was recantation and the acknowledgment of the supremacy of the Church. In view of so terrific a death, she recanted; but hearing the mysterious voices of her former dreams upbraid her, she re-asserted her faith in her divine mission, was again seized at the instance of the priesthood, and the cruel sentence of death at the stake carried into execution.

Never did a sadder fate overtake an innocent, patriotic, and noble-hearted woman. Her only crime was her love for her country, and her contempt for ecclesiastical assumption. Her purity of life was never questioned. It was said of her that she never allowed a profane word to be uttered in her presence. Her religion was a religion of the heart, too exalted for the times in which she lived. So sincere was the belief of the populace in her sanctity that many persons made pilgrimages from every part of the empire to touch her garments, believing that if they could be allowed the privilege, they would be especially blest, both in this life and in the life to come.

There was no woman of the sixteenth century, perhaps, who was more conspicuous or more talented than Elizabeth, Queen of England. Highly educated in the ancient and modern languages, as well as in philosophy, she embraced at an early age the Protestant faith, and in consequence of the religious jealousies of the times, encountered great opposition in her advent to the throne, and while yet in her girlhood, suffered a long imprisonment in the Tower by order of her sister Mary, who was at that time the reigning queen. But events which transpired in 1558 resulted in the elevation of Elizabeth to the throne, at the age of twenty-five. So fearful were the Catholics of her influence in matters of faith that they sent to her a distinguished ecclesiastic, who demanded from her a declaration of her religious creed. To this intrusive demand she, being an adept at rhyming, replied, impromptu,—

So frank and faultless was this avowal that it confounded the artful priest, who, feeling rebuked, went away as wise as he came, if not a little wiser.

In her personal appearance Elizabeth was stately and majestic, but by no means remarkable for her beauty, or amiableness of temper. Her good judgment and discrimination enabled her to call to her aid wise men for ministers and counsellors. She patronized talent and intellect. It was during her reign that Spenser, Shakespeare, Raleigh, Bacon, and other eminent characters flourished, giving to her times and to literature the distinction of the "Elizabethan age." The leading events of her reign amply attest her capacity to grapple with emergencies in sustaining her prerogatives and in maintaining the defiant attitude of England. She loved money as well as power, and though penurious, wielded her power with decision, crushed domestic rebellion at a blow, removed her fears of Mary, Queen of Scots, by consigning her to the block, defied the power of Spain, and with the timely assistance of a providential whirlwind, sank the Spanish Armada in the depths of the sea.

Though unattractive, her charms induced sundry propositions of marriage, particularly from the King of Sweden, from the King of Spain, and from a young prince of France, twenty-five years younger than herself. For this young prince, it is said, she entertained a sincere attachment, and went so far as to place publicly on his finger a costly ring, as a pledge of their union, but being taken soon afterwards by some strange whimsicality, dismissed him, and thus gave him leisure to reflect on the vanity of human aspirations. Yet, like most artful women, she delighted in flirtations, and always retained in her retinue a few special favorites, among whom were the Earls of Leicester and of Essex. On these men she bestowed official positions of high rank, and evidently desired to make great men of them; but Leicester proved to be deficient in brains, and Essex turned traitor, and was finally executed.

When advised to marry by her counsellors, she replied that she could not indulge such a thought for a moment, for she had resolved that the inscription on her tombstone should be:

In her seventieth year she died of grief, it is said, for having signed the death-warrant of Essex, for whom she entertained a sincere yet "untold love."

The events of her reign wrought great changes in the destinies of nations. By her firm adherence to the Protestant faith, she contributed much towards enlarging and strengthening the foundations of civil and religious liberty. She succeeded by her wisdom and diplomacy in circumventing the subtle machinations of rival powers. In few words, it may be said of her that she was a noble specimen of manly womanhood.

Catherine I., Empress of Russia, was born of obscure parents, near the close of the seventeenth century. In girlhood she was known by the name of Martha, until she embraced the Greek religion, when her name was changed to Catherine. Her father died when she was but three years old, and left her to the care of an invalid mother in reduced circumstances. When old enough to be useful, Catherine devoted her services to the care and support of her mother, and in attaining to womanhood, grew to be exceedingly beautiful. Her mother had instructed her in the rudiments of a common education, which she afterwards perfected under the tuition of a neighboring clergyman. Among other accomplishments, Catherine acquired a knowledge of music and dancing, and soon became as attractive for her elegance of manners as she was celebrated for her beauty.

In 1701, she married a Swedish dragoon, and immediately accompanied him to the military post assigned him in the war which had just broken out between Sweden and Russia. In a battle which soon followed, she was taken prisoner by the Russians. Her personal charms soon attracted the attention of Peter the Great. What became of her husband is not known, but may be imagined. At any rate, the emperor succeeded in winning her affections, acknowledged her as his wife, and placed the imperial diadem on her head and the sceptre in her hand. She soon proved herself to be a woman of wonderful tact, shrewdness, and judgment, and obtained an unbounded influence over her husband. In fact, her advice controlled his action; and in following it, he acquired the enviable and lasting title of "Peter the Great." Like her, thousands of women have made their husbands great men, and often out of very indifferent materials.

After Peter's death, Catherine was proclaimed empress and autocrat of all the Russias. Her reign, though short, was brilliant. Her frailties, if she had any, were few, and ought to be attributed to the character of her favorites rather than to herself. She died at the early age of forty-two, after a brief reign of a little less than two years as sole empress. Her native endowments constituted her brightest jewels,—modesty, simplicity, and beauty; it was these angelic gifts which elevated her from the obscurity of rural life to the throne of a great empire.

Here let us turn from the Old World to the New, and look into the parlor, instead of the palace, for specimens of true womanhood. It is in the private walks of life, in the domestic and social circles, that we must look if we would contemplate the character of woman in its purest and proudest development. It is in her daily exhibition of heart, soul, sympathy, generosity, and devotion that woman attains to perfection and crowns herself with a diadem. Everywhere in this great Republic are thousands of women whose excellence of character challenges our admiration. Among those who have passed into the better life, and whose names are recorded on the tablet of every American heart, is Martha Washington.

In her character we have the character of an accomplished American lady. Few, if any, have ever excelled her. When the war of the Revolution commenced, she accompanied her husband, who had just been appointed commander-in-chief of the American armies, to the military lines about Boston, and witnessed the siege and evacuation of that city. She was ever the guardian spirit of the general, and aided him materially in his military career by her wise counsels and timely attentions. While he reasoned logically and deliberately, she came to logical conclusions instantly, without seeming to reason,—a faculty of logic which characterizes almost every woman.

In her figure, Martha was slight; in her manners, easy and graceful; in her temper, mild yet cheerful; in her conversation, calm yet fascinating; in her looks beautiful, especially in her youthful days. So universally admired and respected was she, that everybody spoke of her as "Lady Washington."

She did the honors of the presidential mansion with polished ease, dignity, and grace. Her connubial life with Washington was not less exemplary than it was happy. His regard for her was as profound as her devotion to him was sincere. So solicitous was she for preserving his good name and fame that immediately after his death, she destroyed all the domestic letters which he had addressed to her, for fear they might some day be published, and be found to contain some word or expression of a political nature which might be construed to his prejudice.

Faithful as a wife, as a friend, and as a Christian, she proved herself a model woman. She survived her husband but two years, and died at the age of seventy. In life she occupied a position which queens might envy, and in death bequeathed a memory which will be cherished in a nation's heart, when the proud monuments of kings and queens have crumbled into dust and been forgotten.

If it could be done without making invidious distinctions, it would be no less delightful than instructive to refer specifically to the names and deeds of many other American women who have graced the age in which they lived, and added lustre to the annals of our Republic. But we must content ourselves by alluding to them in general terms; and in doing this, we must admit the fact that the noble deeds and exalted virtues of woman occupy a much less space in the world's history than they ought.

It is sufficiently evident to everybody that women, in all the relations of life, exhibit a keener appreciation of right and wrong than men. Hence they are usually the first to approve what is right, and the last to concur in what is wrong. It was this devotion to principle which induced American women in the days of the Revolution to submit to the severest trials and deprivations, while they encouraged their sons, husbands, and brothers to go forth to the battle-field in defence of their country. In proof of their patriotism, these noble women, with their own hands and with cheerful hearts, spun, wove, knit, and baked for the brave and suffering soldiers, and even made an offering of their jewels on the altar of liberty, and rather than see the enemy enriched by traffic and unjust revenues, complacently approved the policy which cast rich cargoes of their favorite beverage into the depths of the sea.

It was the same spirit, the same patriotism, which inspired the women of our own times on a still broader scale, in the late struggle of the North to crush the rebellion of the South and sustain in all its purity, its honor, and its glory, the dear old flag of the Union. This great work has been done manfully and nobly, and at immense sacrifices of treasure and of blood; but it could not have been done without the aid and encouragement of woman. It was woman who held the key and unlocked the hearts of twenty millions of people, and induced them, by her pleading appeals, to pour out their noble charities, as from floodgates, to supply the urgent needs of the largest and bravest army the world ever beheld. It was woman whose delicate hand nursed the sick, the wounded, and the dying soldier, and whose sympathies and prayers soothed and cheered his departing spirit.

In the sanitary commission, in the Christian commission, woman was the master-spirit, the angel of mercy, the music of whose hovering wings animated the weary march of our gallant volunteers, and inspired their souls with invincible courage. It is woman who weaves the only wreath of honor which a true-hearted hero desires to wear on his brow, and the only one worthy of his highest aspirations. It is an indisputable fact that the power, the patriotism, and the influence of woman constitute the great moral elements of our Republic, and of our civil and religious institutions.

It is the educated and accomplished women of our country who have refined the men as well as the youth of the land, and given tone to public sentiment. It is this class of women who have purified our literature, and moulded it to harmonize with the pure principles of a Christian philosophy. In the fine arts, and even in the abstruse sciences, women have excelled as well as men. In the catalogue of distinguished authors there are to be found, both in this country and in Europe, nearly as many women as men. From the facts which we have already adduced, it is evident enough that woman, in the exercise of intellectual, if not political power, is fully the equal of man; while in tact and shrewdness she is generally his superior. According to the old but truthful saying, it is impossible for a man to outwit a shrewd woman; and instead of asking, What can a woman do? we should ask, What is there a woman cannot do?

Whenever women are left to take care of themselves in the world, as thousands are, they should not only have the right, but it is their duty, to engage in any of the industrial pursuits for which they are fitted. The principal difference between man and woman is physical strength; and for this reason the lighter employments should be assigned to women. In whatever employment men are out of place, women should take their place; especially in retailing fancy goods, in book-keeping, in telegraphing, in type-setting, in school-teaching, and in many other like employments; nor need they be excluded from the learned professions. In fact, we already have lady clergymen and lady physicians; and some think the character of the Bar would be much elevated by the admission of lady lawyers. We cannot doubt that unmarried ladies, if admitted, would excel in prosecuting suits commenced by "attachment," but in other cases their success is not assured, if we may judge from the following incident: A lady lawyer of presidential aspirations, in conducting a suit before the late Judge Cartter in the district court at Washington, was opposed by an eminent lawyer of the other sex, who raised a vexed legal question which had not been "dreamed of in the philosophy" of the lady lawyer, and which so perplexed her that she, in the midst of her embarrassment, appealed to the judge for advice as to the course she had better pursue. The judge, who hesitated somewhat in his utterances, replied, "I think you had bet-bet-better employ a lawyer."

If women choose to compete with men in any of the learned professions, or in any other pursuit, and are fitted to achieve success, there is nothing in the way to prevent them; yet it does not follow that they can take the places of men in everything, especially in those employments which require masculine strength and great physical endurance. Nor does it follow that women who pay taxes should therefore have the right of suffrage. The fact that they hold property does not change their status, nor does it confer political rights.

The right of suffrage is a political right and not a natural right. The exercise of this political right carries with it the law-making power, the duty of protecting persons and property, and consequently of maintaining and defending the government. They who make the government are therefore bound to defend it. Nature never intended that women should become soldiers and face the cannon's mouth in the battle-field; nor did she give them strength to construct railroads, tunnel mountains, build war-ships, or man them. Yet women, prompted by affection or romantic sentiment, have been known to become soldiers in disguise, and perhaps have fought bravely in the battle-field. But this, of itself, proves nothing; it is merely an exception to a general rule, or in other words, an eccentricity of character. In all ages of the world, as we have shown, the mere force of circumstances has occasionally unsphered woman and placed her in unnatural situations, in which she has sometimes achieved a brilliant success,—on the throne and off the throne, in peace and in war, in political life and in social life. Yet in stepping out of her sphere, whatever may be her success, every true woman feels that she "o'ersteps the modesty of nature."

When woman glides into her natural position,—that of a wife,—it is then only that she occupies her appropriate sphere, and exhibits in its most attractive form the loveliness of her character. Marriage is an institution as essential to the stability and harmony of the social system as gravity is to the order and preservation of the planetary system. In the domestic circle the devoted wife becomes the centre of attraction, the "angel of the household." Her world is her home; her altar, the hearthstone. In her daily ministrations she makes herself angelic by making home a heaven, and every one happy who may come within the "charmed circle" of her kind cares and generous sympathies. In fact, there is no place like home, "sweet home," when on its sacred altar burns the blended incense of harmonious souls,—

It is certain that man and woman were never created to live independent of each other. They are but counterparts, and therefore incomplete until united in wedlock. Hence they who prefer single blessedness are justly chargeable with the "sin of omission," if not the "unpardonable sin." It is difficult to estimate the fearful responsibilities of those fossilized bachelors who persist in sewing on their own buttons and in mending their own stockings. Yet these selfish gentlemen frankly admit that there may have been such a thing as "true love" in the olden times, but now, they say, the idea has become obsolete; and if a bachelor were to ask a young lady to share his lot, she would immediately want to know how large the "lot" is and what is its value. In further justification they quote Socrates, who, being asked whether it were better for a man to marry or live single, replied, "Let him do either and he will repent it." But this is not argument, nor is it always true, even in a sordid marriage, as appears in the following instance: Not long since, in New York, a bachelor of twenty-two married a rich maiden of fifty-five, who died within a month after the nuptials and left him a half-million of dollars. He says he has never "repented" the marriage.

The age in which we live is one of experiment and of novel theories, both in religion and in politics. In modern spiritualism we have entranced women, who give us reports from the dead. In modern crusades we have devout women, who visit tippling-houses and convert them into sanctuaries of prayer. In politics we have mismated and unmated women, who hold conventions, clamor for the ballot, and advocate the doctrine of "natural selection."

It is true that every marriageable woman has a natural right to select, if not elect, a husband; and this she may and ought to do, not by ballot, but by the influence of her charms and her virtues. If all marriageable men and women were but crystallized into happy families, earth would soon become a paradise. Yet if this were done, we doubt not there would still remain some "strong-minded" women, who would get up a convention to reform paradise. The truth is, the women will do pretty much as they please, and the best way is to let them.

Yet all must admit that a woman of refinement is not only a ruling spirit, but "a power behind the throne greater than the power on the throne." Her rights are therefore within her own grasp. Among these she has the right, and to her belongs the responsible duty, of educating her children in first principles, and in those sanctified lessons which have been revealed to man from heaven. It is the mother's precepts which constitute the permanent foundation of the child's future character. Hence no woman is really competent to discharge the responsible duties of a mother as she ought, unless she has first been properly educated. There can be no object more deserving of commiseration, perhaps, than a mother who is surrounded by a family of young children, and yet is so ignorant as to be unable to instruct them in the rudiments of a common-school education and in the fundamental principles of a Christian life. The character of every child, it may be assumed, is essentially formed at seven years of age. The mother of Washington knew this, and felt it, and in the education of her son, taught him at an early age the leading truths of Christianity. She took the Bible for her guide, and taught him to take the Bible for his guide. His subsequent career proves that he adhered to the instructions of his mother. When he came to pay her a visit, at the close of the war, after an absence of seven long years, she received him with the overflowing heart of a mother, as her dutiful son, and thought of him only as a dutiful son, never uttering a word in reference to the honors he had won as a military chieftain.

Soon after this, General Lafayette, wishing to make the acquaintance of the mother of Washington before returning to France, called at her residence in Virginia, and introduced himself. He found her at work in the garden, clad in a homespun dress, and her gray head covered with a plain straw hat. She saluted him kindly, and calmly remarked, "Ah, Marquis, you see an old woman; but come, I can make you welcome in my poor dwelling without the parade of changing my dress." In the course of conversation Lafayette complimented her as the mother of a son who had achieved the independence of his country, and acquired lasting honors for himself. The old lady, without the least manifestation of gratified pride, simply responded, "I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a very good boy." What a noble response, in its moral grandeur, was this! Certain it is that such a mother was worthy of such a son. A monument, plain, yet expressive in its design, has been erected at Fredericksburg to her memory. It bears this simple, yet sublime inscription:

The extent of woman's moral power can only be limited by the extent of her capacities. In every circle, whether domestic, social, or political, the accomplished woman is a central power—imperium in imperio; and though she may not directly exercise the right of suffrage, yet her influence and her counsels, even an expression of her wish, enable her to control the political, as well as the social, destinies of men and of nations. It is in this way that she may "have her way." It was the accomplished wife of Mr. Monroe who made him President of the United States. She was the first to propose his name as a candidate. Her influence with members of Congress induced them to concur in advocating his election; he was elected. His administration, as we all know, was distinguished as "the era of good feeling."

The prevalent idea that women need less education than men is a gross error, worthy of heathendom perhaps, but entirely unworthy of Christendom. Let women be as generally and as liberally educated as men, and, my word for it, the question of woman's rights would soon settle itself. The right of women to be thus educated cannot be doubted, because it is a divine right, and because God has made woman the maternal teacher of mankind, and the chief corner-stone of the social fabric. Yet she should be educated with reference to her proper sphere as woman,—a sphere which is higher than that of man in the economy of Nature. Her capacities for industrial pursuits, such as are consistent with her physical abilities, should be developed so that she may be qualified to provide for herself, and to sustain herself in life's battle, if need be, without the aid of a "companion in arms."

Nevertheless, marriage is one of Heaven's irrevocable laws. It is, in fact, the great law of all animal-life, and even of plant-life. Nowhere in Nature is there a single instance in which this law is not obeyed, in due time, except in the case of mankind. Why is this? It certainly would not be so if it were not for some grand defect in our social system,—some false notions acquired by education, which are peculiar to our civilization, and which induce apostasy to truth and natural justice. Man was created to be the protector of woman, and woman to be the helpmeet of man. Each therefore has an appropriate sphere; and the obligations of each are mutual, growing out of their mutual interest and dependence. The sphere of the one is just as important as the sphere of the other. Neither can live, nor ought to live, without the aid, the love, and the sympathy of the other. Whether so disposed or not, neither can commit an infraction of the other's rights, without violating a law of Nature.

Whatever may be the evils of our present social or political system, it is evident that the right of suffrage, if extended to woman, could not afford a remedy, but on the contrary, would tend to weaken, rather than strengthen, mutual interests, by creating unwomanly aspirations and domestic dissensions, thus sundering the ties of love and affection which naturally exist between the sexes. In a word, it would be opening Pandora's box, and letting escape the imps of social and political discord, and finally result in universal misrule, if not in positive anarchy.

Modesty and delicacy are the crowning characteristics of a true woman. She naturally shrinks from the storms of political strife. Give her the right of suffrage,—a boon no sensible woman desires; place her in office, in the halls of legislation, in the Presidential chair; enrobe her with the judicial ermine, or make her the executive officer of a criminal tribunal,—and how could she assume the tender relations of a mother, and at the same time officiate in any of these high places of public trust, in which the sternest and most inflexible duties are often required to be performed?

It is not possible, however, that the erratic comets, whose trailing light occasionally flashes athwart our political sky, will ever acquire sufficient momentum to jostle the "fixed stars" out of place, because there is a fixed law of Nature which preserves them in place. There is also a law of Nature which makes man not only the protector, but the worshipper, of woman,—a worship which is as instinctively paid as reciprocated, and which is by no means inconsistent with the worship of God, but in truth is a part of it. It is this kind of worship—this natural and holy impulse of the heart—which constitutes the basis of man's rights and of woman's rights, and should harmonize all their relations in life.

We see the instinctive exhibition of man's reverence for women almost every day of our lives, and often in a way that proves how ridiculous are modern theories in regard to woman's rights, when brought to the test in practical life. Not long since, in one of our cities where a woman's rights convention was in session, a strong-minded female delegate entered a street railway car, when an old gentleman arose to give her his seat, but at that moment, suspecting her to be a delegate, asked, "Be you one of these women's righters?"—"I am." "You believe a woman should have all the rights of a man?"—"Yes, I do." "Then stand up and enjoy them like a man." And stand up she did,—the old gentleman coolly resuming his seat, to the great amusement of the other passengers.

Whatever maybe the pretensions of agitators, it is certain that no woman of refined culture, or of proper self-respect, will attempt to step outside of her appropriate sphere. This she cannot do if she would, without doing violence to the sensibilities of her nature. When true to herself, woman, like the lily-of-the-valley, prefers the valley, where she can display her native loveliness in comparative retirement, secure from the inclemencies of a frowning sky; while man, born with a more rugged nature, prefers, like the sturdy oak, to climb the hills and the mountains, where he delights to breast the assaults of storm and tempest, and to fling the shadow of his stately form over the valley, as if to protect the ethereal beauty of the lily from the too ardent gaze of the sun. And, though a solitary flower may sometimes be seen climbing the mountain height, it is only the modest lily-of-the-valley—the true woman—whose cheering smile man aspires to share, and whose purity of character calls into exercise his reverent admiration.

AIM HIGH.