The Shasta courier. [volume] (Shasta, Calif.) 1852-1872, 1853-03-26

BY DOW, JR.
My text this morning is contained In these
words:
How solveless is woman.
How tender is woman.
How loving is woman
How child-like is woman!
My hearers-sure enough, how solveless is
woman! She is an unguessable riddle-a most
intricate enigma flower which by analyzin 9
no one can tell to certainty whether it be
poisonous or inoxious-not always. She has
been with man from beginning, and he has mt
found her out yet. She is comparatively an I'M
explored country-an alphabet of heiroglphcs
"a magnetic mystery. Nobody knows what
her heart contains. Sometimes it seems stuffed
with love, tenderness, sympathy; and at others,
filled with nothing but grit and gravel. 1t won't
| answer to shake her; you cause the acids and
| alkalies In her nature TO come In contact; and
then such an effervescence takes place as might
lower the ambition of perlash and cider.
Like the month of April she is all sunshine
and showers. Many tear-drop evaporates in
the warm light of smile, ere it has chance to
fall; and many bright smile is suddenly
sorrow about the size of blanket
Griefs bubble up from her bosom to burst in
an atmosphere of joy, like autumnal flowers,
spring from the warm bed of her heart, to be cut
down by the sudden frost of grief. A queer
compound is woman She is made of modesty,
boldness, beauty, silks, satins, jealousy, love,
hatred. horse-hair. whaebone, piety, paint, gale
ty, gum-elastic bears grease, sympathy, tears,
smiles, affections and kindness. She talks with
her tongue, speaks with her eyes, is eloquent in
her actions, and yet can't understand it.
My irlends-how tender is woman She is
as tender as a chicken and as tough as an old
Sobler. She must be screened from the hot sum-
mer's sun-sheltered from storms, and protect
ed from the blast of winter-and vet if she
makes up her mind TO do it, she can outsweat the
sun. face Northeastern, and be match for the
devil.
But inwardly, she is as tender as the mercies
of heaven; her heart is as much softer than hui
mans as bees wax Is softer than IA brick bat
Her sympaihies delicate as the down u,-
on an angels wing. and her love appears as fresh
aud unading amid the sorrows of adversely, as
the ever green wreath that encircled the brow
of old winter. Her tenderness is too tough to be
DESTROYED by whatever chance fortune or lime
may bring as tough us tripe, and twice as
common.
My dear friends-how lofty is woman! No
matter whether born i'll cellar, she can some
times be as lofty garnet. When she once
gets her back up, q cats and broom sticks look
out for yourselves She is high as olympus
and savage "a sausage machine. In high wrath
she is as crazy bed-bug, strong as tiger
and as terrible tornado. She can blaze
away as though hell, heaven and earth were
coming to close quarter; but in IA few moments
it is ali over-nobody killed. Then she comes
down from the mountains whence she has been
rolling big stones npon the people beluw-sofi-
ems down to Jelly, and becomes as quiescent
as goose pond after a tempest. The breeches
won't fit-she must resume the petticoat and be
d woman after all.
My hearers-Low loving is woman! Ave-
she is amazingly sckly in her attachments. She
will cling to the chosen object of her heart like
possum to gum tree, and you can't separate
her without swapping strings that no art can
mend and leaving IA portion of her soul upon
the upper leather of her affections. She will
sometimes see something to love where others
can discover nothing TO admire: and when her
fondness is once fastened fellow, it sticks
like glue and molasses in a bushy head of hair.
My hearers-how chld-like is woman! A
playthlng herself, she is fond of every playthng
III the worlds great toy-shop. Her home is the
realm OF tancy-her existence is very ideal reai-
ty-her very lnseries are mingled with pleas
ing romance-her present is always briSht and
her future still brighter. Would that | were "a
woman. TO be pleased with every posey that
pops Its head above the weeds of ii wicked
world. and have no thorns to modest Inc whilst
gathering the wild flowers of INA gination. Child
like, woman is ever happy. Tickled with the
straw OF Hattery, delighted with every Rainbow
tinted bubble that floats npon the OF time
AS antic as young coon is by moonlight and
as merry cricket she dances III the sunlight
OF joy, and seems to use every endeavor to coax
male, moody mortals into brighter and hap
pier paths. SO mote it be!