from any consideration, to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can give you the strongest assurances that the women of America make the most faithful wives and the most attentive mothers in the world; and I am sure you will join me in opinion, that if a married man is made miserable only one week in a whole year, he will have no great cause to complain of the matrimonial bond. I am, &c.

ANSWER TO THE ABOVE.

IN THE CHARACTER OF A LADY, BUT REALLY BY THE SAME HAND.

SIR,

I HAVE lately seen a letter upon the subject of white-washing, in which that necessary duty of a good housewife is treated with unmerited ridicule. I should probably have forgot the foolish thing by this time, but the season coming on which most women think suitable for cleansing their apartments from smoke and dirt of the winter, I find this saucy author dished up in every family, and his flippant performance quoted wherever a wife attempts to exercise her reasonable prerogative, or execute the duties of her station. Women generally employ their time to better purpose than scribbling. The cares and comforts of a family rest principally upon their shoulders; hence it is that there are but few female authors; and the men, knowing how necessary our attentions are to their happiness, take every opportunity of discouraging literary accomplishments in the fair sex. You hear it echoed from every quarter- My wife cannot make verses, it is true, but she makes an excellent

pudding; she can't correct the press, but she can correct her children, and scold her servants with admirable discretion; she can't unravel the intricacies of political economy and federal government, but she can knit charming stockings.' And this they call praising a wife, and doing justice to her character, with much nonsense of the like kind.

I say, women generally employ their time to much better purpose than scribbling; otherwise this factious writer had not gone so long unanswered. We have ladies who sometimes lay down the needle and take up the pen; I wonder none of them have attempted some reply. For my part, I do not pretend to be an author. I never appeared in print in my life, but I can no longer forbear saying something in answer to such impertinence, circulate how it may. Only, Sir, consider our situation. Men are naturally inattentive to the decencies of life; but why should I be so complaisant? I say, they are naturally filthy creatures. If it were not that their connexion with the refined sex polished their manners, and had a happy influence on the general economy of life, these lords of the creation would wallow in filth, and populous cities would infect the atmosphere with their noxious vapours. It is the attention and assiduity of the women that prevent men from degenerating into mere swine. How im. portant then are the services we render! and yet for these very services we are made the subject of ridicule and fun. Base ingratitude! Nauseous creatures! Perhaps you may think I am in a passion. No, Sir, I do assure you I was never more composed in my life, and yet it is enough to provoke a saint to see how unreasonably we are treated by the men. Why now, there's my husband—a good

enough sort of a man in the main-but I will give you a sample of him. He comes into the parlour the other day, where, to be sure, I was cutting up a piece of linen. Lord!' says he,' what a flutter here is! I can't bear to see the parlour look like a tailor's shop; besides, I am going to make some important philosophical experiments, and must have sufficient room.' You must know my husband is one of your would-be philosophers. Well, I bundled up my linen as quick as I could, and began to darn a pair of ruffles, which took no room, and could give no offence. I thought, however, I would watch my lord and master's important business. In about half an hour the tables were covered with all manner of trumpery; bottles of water, phials of drugs, pasteboard, paper and cards, glue, paste, and gum-arabic; files, knives, scissors, needles, resin, wax, silk, thread, rags, jags, tags, books, pamphlets, and papers. Lord bless me! I am almost out of breath, and yet I have not enumerated half the articles. Well, to work he went, and although I did not understand the object of his manoeuvres, yet I could sufficiently discover that he did not succeed in any one operation. I was glad of that, I confess, and with good reason too; for, after he had fatigued himself with mischief, like a monkey in a chinashop, and had called the servants to clear every thing away, I took a view of the scene my parlour exhibited. I shall not even attempt a minute description; suffice it to say, that he had overset his ink-stand, and stained my best mahogany table with ink; he had spilt a quantity of vitriol, and burnt a large hole in my carpet; my marble hearth was all over spotted with melted resin: beside this, he had broken three china cups, four wine-glasses,

two tumblers, and one of my handsomest decanters. And, after all, as I said before, I perceived that he had not succeeded in any one operation. By the bye, tell your friend, the white-wash scribbler, that this is one means by which our closets become furnished with halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken wine-glasses, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of departed decanters. I say, I took a view of the dirt and devastation my philosophic husband had occasioned; and there I sat, like Patience on a monument smiling at Grief; but it worked inwardly. I would almost as soon the melted resin and vitriol had been in his throat, as on my dear marble hearth and my beautiful carpet. It is not true that women have no power over their own feelings; for notwithstanding this provocation, I said nothing, or next to nothing: for I only observed, very pleasantly, what a lady of my acquaintance had told me, that the reason why philosophers are called literary men, is because they make a great litter; not a word more: however, the servant cleared away, and down sat the philosopher. A friend dropt in soon after-' Your servant, Sir, how do you do?' 'Olord, I am almost fatigued to death! I have been all the morning making philosophical experiments.' I was now more hardly put to it to smother a laugh, than I had been just before to contain my rage; my precious went out soon after, and I, as you may suppose, mustered all my forces brushes, buckets, soap, sand, limeskins, and cocoa-nut shells, with all the powers of housewifery, were immediately employed. I was certainly the best philosopher of the two; for my experiments succeeded, and his did not. All was well again, except my poor carpet-my vitriolised car

pet, which still continued a mournful memento of philosophic folly. The operation was scarce over, when in came my experimental philosopher, and told me, with all the indifference in the world, that he had invited six gentlemen to dine with him at three o'clock. It was then past one. I complained of the short notice: Poh! poh!' said he,' you can get a leg of mutton, and a loin of veal, and a few potatoes, which will do well enough.' Heavens! what a chaos must the head of a philosopher be a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, and potatoes I was at a loss whether I should laugh or be angry; but there was no time for determining: I had but an hour and a half to do a world of business in. My carpet, which had suffered in the cause of experimental philosophy in the morning, was destined to be most shamefully dishonoured in the afternoon by a deluge of nasty tobacco-juice. Gentlemen smokers love segars better than carpets. Think, Sir, what a woman must endure under such circumstances; and then, after all, to be reproached with her cleanliness, and to have her white-washings, her scourings, and scrubbings made the subject of ridicule, it is more than patience can put up with. What I have now exhibited is but a small specimen of the injuries we sustain from the boasted superiority of men. But we will not be laughed out of our cleanliness. A woman would rather be called any thing than a slut, as a man would rather be thought a knave than a fool. I had a great deal more to say, but am called away; we are just preparing to white-wash, and of course I have a great deal of business on my hands. The white-wash buckets are paraded, the brushes are ready, my husband is gone off-so much the better; when we