The Plymouth pilot. (Plymouth, Marshall County, Ind.) 1851-1852, 1851-07-23
Number 2z.
WHO is THE TRUE LADY,

eganty furnished, apd her dress was al
ways of the latest fashion. She had her
piano and her teacher, and she played
Italian music charminglv. In all the
exquisite graces of life shs was faultless.
She had rich vein of sentiment, too, and
could talk philosophy, or discass stand.
ard authors at pleasure. OF course she
read novels-in fact large portion Of
the day was devoted to that interesting
and Instructive class of polite literature.
She was also somewhat Industrious, fo1
she would occasionly work elegant eu,.
broidery. With an abundance of curls
that floated over her neck in beautiful
profuSlon. fine form, hands white and
delicate, large powers of conversation in
the usual drawing-room style, she was
followed by young men of taste. Yet,
somehow, she never married The
''beaux" futtered around her, like flies
over pot of honey, bat they were care
ful not to get caught as those other insects
are apt to do. Their attention were
never so particular as to require "some
friend of the family" to demand what
were their intentions. This was no
fault of the young lady. She was with
in the market as plainly as though she
had inscribed on her forehead, GA Hus-
band Wanted; for particulars inquire
within"
But the husband never, to our knowledge
came; and we believe a: this day she is
a disconsolat old maid
What was the trouble? Step with US
into the kitchen. That lat woman, with
red face, is the servant Of the house,
She does the cooking, and the chamber
work. From early dawn until late at
night she is slave. Well that woman
is our charming young lady's mother!
She never sees her daughters cellars"
If by accident she should drop into
the parlor while visitors were present,
she would hasten out again, with EN-,
barrassed manner, looking as though she
had committed an offence, while her
own child's face would be suffused with
! bushes.
Now, take walk with us. In the
workshop, do you see that hard working
mechanic? The wrinkles are hardening
upon his face, and the gray hairs are
thinly sprinkled over his head. He
looks anxious and as though at his heart
strings tagged some deep sorrow and
-mortifca.ion. He is the father of our
beautiful "young lady" and his hard ear
nings for many years have been absorbed
In the expensive luxuries that her admir-
able taste has craved. He, too, is ex-
cluded from the society of his own daugh-
ter.
She moves in circle above her pa.
rents and in short, is ashamed of them.
They live in the kitchen, and she in
the parlor. They drudge--she reaps the
fruit. She has ne pulsation of grati-
tude for all this; she despises them, and
in fashionable gatherings, is among the
iiTst 40 cut her prrssy llps at low me-
chanics provided she can do SO safely.
Is she true lady? No-ten thou
plishments-to her taste in dress
to her manners. We look upon and ad-
mire such, just as we do superb statue
of Venus. AS work of art it is beau
tiful; nevertheless, it is insensate marble.
having no soul, being of no use in prac-
tical life, and good for nothing but to
look at.
The beauty of the mind is the true
beauty; and the affectionate daughter.
who nestles herself lovingly into the
hearts of her parents-who not only
works with that mother, but takes the
heaviest burden upon herself--is the la
dy.-She may not have struck a note on
piano, yet her house is melodious with
harmony such as angels sing. Her exte-
rior may be humble, but her interior life
is clothed in the vestments of immortal
beauty.
Taere are many young ladies" whose
whole character is or the surface. Dress,
manners, accomplishments, all are ex-
ternal. They are outsiders" When
the scorching fires of adversely burn be.
meath its surface, there is no protecting
wall upreared within. The whole be-
comes but heap Of ashes. though it may
contain the outward semblance Of hu-
manitr.
The true lady cultivates the higher ma
ture. She is religious, but not fanaticaI
courteous, but not fawning. Reposing
serenely upon the arm of her Heavenly
Father and associdting with unseen an
gelic spirits, she meets the storm with
camness, and accepts it as disciplinary
mercy. Her sympathy ever pulsates to
the cry of suffering; and her hand is ever
open to relieve. She is beautiful at homo
beautiful at the bedside Of the sick, beau
tiful at the hour Of her departure into
the world Of spirits, beautiful through
life, and transcendantly and externally
beautiful in Heaven.
This is the true lady.-Phil. Led
ger.
JOIN DOUGLASS, ex-editor of the lndi-