those around them unhappy also. The disappointment is always in proportion to the interest felt in the object of pursuit, and the human heart cannot affect happiness where it is not felt. He saw the lovely jewel sparkling in the casket, and he sighed to possess it. For a day it sparkled on his finger; but the gilding wore away, and the baser metal showed itself; the cheat was out, and his mortification was greater than if he had never thought it a jewel. The fond and foolish creature had exhausted all her resources to attain her object-like a child enamored of a bird in the bush, she had strewn the last grain about her trap to catch the gilded rover; and when he was caught, he was doomed to starve on chaff, or rudely break his cage and fly away in search of better fare. The conditions of both are unfortunate, but hers is greatly worst. He may resort to books for consolation, or reason himself into the ridiculous opinion that woman is an inferior being, and that his fate is but the fate of all men; but she is without resource, without consolation.

But the educated woman forms the nucleus of society at home. Her husband loves her because she is good, and venerates her because she is wise. Her domicil becomes his library and his reading-room, and there is the repository of solid wisdom-not merely the gilded annuals spread out for show, but some of the perennials too-the Miltons, and Popes, and Addisons, and Johnsons. Not the mere butterfly-wing productions of the day, with gaudy covers and virgin pages, unsoiled and untouched, save where the pictured Medora droops her languid head, or my Uncle Toby peeps in the Widow Wadman's eye; but volumes of history, philosophy, poetry, elocution and divinity, whose merits have redeemed them from all-destroying time.

But although the largest portion of woman's happiness is derived from her relation to the other sex, yet it is not the only source of her enjoyment, nor the exclusive object of her ambition. There is another point of view in which education and a literary cast of mind would greatly better her condition. It would open to her a source of excellence and elevation consistent with her nature, and within the reach of the poor as well as the rich-one which the reverses of fortune could not take away. Some stimulus like this is almost indispensable to her intellectual existence; for although her ambition is not towering, there is a kind of aristocracy of which she is more ambitious than man-she is fonder of distinction in the circle in which she moves. I have often been amused by the embarrassment of some clever fellow, whose very soul was embued with democracy, and who was so much in love with the people that he could hardly attend to his own affairs, to see his wife so aristocratic that she could hardly treat one of the "sove

reigns" with common courtesy, when he called to shake hands with his humble servant, her husband. Is this ambition of eminence wrong? No, sir, not of itself:

"Ambition first sprang from the bright abodes,

The glorious fault of angels and of gods."

But like the ambition of the rebel angels, it is wofully misdirected, and tends to ruin and downfall. There is no real distinction among mortals, but such as wisdom and goodness impart; and all distinction built on any other foundation, must sooner or later tumble in ruin on the heads of those who aspire to it.

One-half of the poverty and misery in the world grow out of this misguided ambition to be great.

Mrs. Extravaganza is happily married to a young man in moderate circumstances, but of industrious habits, and sufficient income to support his family with comfort and credit; and thus begins the world with flattering prospects. But she is ambitious to be superior to her neighbor's wife. The world acknowledges no real distinction between them-her neighbor's wife is as polite, as learned, as wise, as good as she. From whence then shall her superiority come? From richer silks, costlier furniture, more splendid equipage, a statelier mansion, and a more numerous train of domestics, no one of which is essential to real comfort or convenience. The ship sails well while the sky is clear and the breeze blows fair; but when the storm of adversity comes she is overwhelmed. The expense is too great for the income, and by her misguided ambition she is doomed to perpetual poverty.

But extravagance is not the only way in which this misguided ambition developes itself. It seeks distinction in affectation of superiority, more ridiculous than extravagance or poverty. In the estimation of shallow observers, whatever is grotesque requires but little puffing to make it superior. In this way the veriest butterflies in the world seek and often find distinction, while real merit passes to the grave unnoticed. Whether our understanding or our education is at fault, I do not pretend to say; but one thing is certain-we are in this respect the most hoaxable people on earth.

Let some European scullion abjure her mistress' kitchen, put on an air of singularity, and appear among us bedecked with tawdry tissue, and in four and twenty hours a hundred gallant skulls are thumping together to do her homage. She converses with thrilling eloquence in some language which no one of them understands, and the lineaments of Thaddeus Pulaski, or Americus Vespucius, brighten in her countenance; while the beautiful, the lovely, the learned, the simple-hearted buckeye blushes un

seen, like the desert rose, because she is indigenous to the soil and unobtrusive in her manners.

Several years ago, I conversed with a gentleman who had just returned from Europe, after performing the duties of minister to a foreign court. In speaking of the English nobility, he remarked that the ladies were plain and simple-hearted in comparison with ladies of wealth and fashion in our country. I asked him how he accounted for this, seeing that our institutions were based on the principle of human equality. "They rely, sir," said he, "upon their rank, and have no need of affectation to sustain them." In our country there is no such rank as that on which they rely. It is not desirable that such rank ever should exist. But is there no rank in the republic of letters-is there no eminence in the field of science-is there no elevation in the art of doing good on which the ambitious fair one might rely for distinction, without resorting to the miserable extremes of extravagance and affectation?

But woman should not be educated with reference to her individual happiness alone; she is a social being, and as such, is destined to have her influence on all around her; and you cannot educate one, without to a certain extent educating every other in the neighborhood. They act upon each other like the reeds in the fisherman's flambeau-the moment you light one, it communicates the fire to another, and another, and another, until the whole unites in a flame.

The old adage, that "it is better to be out of the world than out of the fashion," has often been applied to ladies. Whether they deserve it or not, I do not pretend to decide; but it is certain they are more curious, more communicative, more imitative than men, and consequently more likely to be benefited or injured by the influence of society. A city is too large and unwieldy for observation. In the country the population is too sparse. But go to a village where you can take in society at a single glance, and there make your practical observation. Let some intrigue exist, or some deed of darkness be committed, no matter with how much secresy, and you might as well attempt to "hide the sun with a blanket, or put the moon in your pocket," as to conceal it from their scrutiny; and when it is found out, it rests like sin on the conscience of the discoverer, until she has communicated it to every friend she has in the village. But she is imitative. Let some new example of taste, elegance, or fashion make its appearance, and it runs round the circle with almost the speed of electricity; and the thought of being left behind is painful in the extreme.

Mrs. Brocade appears at church in a new-fangled dress, and instantly all the ladies in the neighborhood follow suit. Mrs.

M'Fiddle sends her little daughter to dancing school, and in four and twenty hours half the matrons in the village inquire of the parson whether it would be a sin to send their little daughters too. Miss Exquisite has been to the city, and meeting with an improvement in the strait-jacket, has compressed her beautiful form to the thickness of a spade-shaft, and live or die, survive or perish," and in spite of Dr. Muzzy's lecture,* in one week every young lady in town is compressed to the same model. And think you, sir, that this anxiety to know-this eagerness to communicate-this tendency to imitate, was implanted in the breast of woman to poison and make war on the nobler spirit of sympathy and benevolence? No, sir, no such thing. They are the wild luxuriant growths of a noble soul, fallen down from their native bower, and tangled and interwoven with briars and noxious weeds. Only let the hand of education lift them from the ground, disentangle them from the thorny maze, prune away the rubbish, fasten the tendrils to the bower, and teach them to aspire to the nobler objects; and trust me, sir, they will become the ornaments of the sex, and make society redolent of moral sweetness. These very qualities which have so long and so often been the topics of ridicule, are the evidences of mind admirably suited, if properly cultivated, to give and take the blessings of society.

But the influence of woman as a social being, is not confined to her own sex. She wields a powerful influence over the other sex, and especially over her own husband; and very much of his success or disappointment in life depends upon her. Let a man of genius and enterprise be linked for life with an ignorant woman, whose thoughts aspire not with his thoughts-whose sentiments mingle not with his sentiments-whose heart beats not in unison with his heart; and all his energies, like a living victim chained to a body of death, will sicken, gangrene, and die. The man of genius requires both the sympathy and approbation of the other sex to aid him in his efforts, and without them his exertions, however great, will be misdirected. He may be ambitious; but his ambition will be for glory and not for good. His actions in themselves may be noble; but philanthropy will not be their moving spring. He may acquire knowledge, but it will not be devoted to the benefit of mankind. He may accumulate wealth, but it will not be used for the purposes of benevolence. A few examples to the contrary may be found; and those examples are striking, because they are singular; but frozen-hearted selfishness is the common motive of men alienated from the sympathy and influence of the softer sex.

In the age of chivalry, when a young and valorous knight clad

* Dr. Muzzy, at the same session, delivered a lecture on the injurious effects of tight lacing.

in complete steel, entered the tournament, he knew that the eye of beauty marked his deeds, and that the hand of beauty would reward his success; and as if the fire of Minerva inspired his bosom, and the spirit of Minerva nerved his arm, he poised the weapon, warded the thrust, and dealt the blow. And when in quest of adventures, he went up and down, fearless of danger, and despising repose-as he slept beneath the spacious sky, it was not the star that beamed on his helmet, nor the dew-drop that glittered on his breast-plate, but the eye and the tear of his lady-love that inspired his dreams of glory, and steeled his heart for the day of battle. And in the rigorous combat, when he covered his breast with his shield, and braced his lance in its rest, he invoked the spirit of his lady-love to aid him in the desperate conflict. Nor were his expectations blasted. When he returned in triumph from the field and laid the trophy of victory at her feet, as if the victory had been her own, she unbuckled his armor and acknowledged him the champion of her honor, and the lord of her heart. But after the youthful votary of science has sacrificed ease, and pleasure, and wealth, to fit himself for usefulness, if he enters the arena of life, with no eye to brighten at his triumphs-no cheek to blush for his fall-no bosom to sympathize with his fortunes

"If beauty blunts on fops her fatal dart,

Nor claims the triumphs of a lettered heart,"

what motive has he for excellence? Why should not he kneel at the shrine of Mammon, side by side with the mercenary fair one, much more likely to be enamored of his wealth than his learning?

But there is another relation of life in which woman appears more interesting than in any of the former, and in which her thorough and substantial education seems to be more important than that of man--it is the relation of a mother. Such is the nature of the father's business engagements, that if he were ever so well qualified to be an instructor, children, during the earlier period. of life, when they are most susceptible of impressions, are almost exclusively under the control of the mother. To her belongs the nurture and training of the moral sentiments, while they are yet so tender that the touch of a ruder hand might snap them from the tiny stem, and blast them for ever. Those very feelings of the mother which men call female weakness, act upon the incipient intellect like the volatile oils and the rainbow colors of the blossom on the embryo fruit, distilling and refining the dews of heaven, and reflecting and softening the rays of light, until it swells into strength and vigor, to be matured by the redundant showers of summer, and ripened in the powerful beams of the sun. stern philosophy of the father smiles at the sleepless vigilance