The Portland daily press., 1862-12-12
MISCELLANY.
[From the Continental Monthly.
A TRUE STORY.

wasteful, uncalculatlng father. My Father was
a scholar of most stupeldous attainments, par
ticularly in Oriental literature, but perfect
child in all that related to the ordinary affairs
of life. Absorbed in his studies, he let his pc
cuniary matters take care of themselves. Con-
sequently, when death suddenly laid him low,
and deprived me of my only friend and protec-
tor his affairs were found TO be in state of
inextricable confusion. His effects, including
the noble library of Eastern lore which il had
been the labor of his life to collect, were seiz-
ed and sold to pay his debts, and were found
insufficient.
NY mother had died when was a child. and
my father had educated me himself, pouring
into my young and eager mind the treasures
of knowledge he possessed. / was-I say it
without boasting-a prodigy of learning; but
in all that relates TO domestic economy, as well
as to the ordinary attainments of woman,
was as ignorant as my father himself.
/ fingered near the house until the sale was
over and the last eart-load of goods had been
removed. Then / repaired to wretched gar
rest in the Rue du Temple, where had found
a refuge, and where could, by the exercise of
my talents. replenish my purse and procure
better lodging. Here l sat down, took calm
survey of my position, and questioned myself
as to what employment l was fit for
OF the usual feminine accomplishments,
possessed none could neither draw nor paint,
j could not play a note of n usic on any instru-
ment; could sing it is true, but knew moth
ing of the science of vocal music: did not
know word ofSpanish, or Italian, or German,
or English; even with the literature of France
l was but little acquainted; but l could read
the cuneiform characters of Babylon and Per-
sepolis as readily as you read this page, San
scrit, Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, and Chaldaic,
flowed from my tongue as freely as a nursery
rhyme. As an instructress OF young ladies,
therefore, l could not hope to find livelihood,
but as an assistant to some learned man or bo-
dy of men, l knew that my attainments would
be invaluable. "a
Full of hope, therefore, and with a cheerful
heart, set about obtaining situation.
Hearing that the Oriental department of the
Bbliotheque du Roi was about to undergo
some alterations, and that an assistant librari-
an was wanted to rearrange and re-catalogue
the books, l applied at once for the situation.
/ was closely examined as to my qualifications,
and much surprise manifested at the proficien-
cy had attained in these unwonted studies ;
but my application was refused, because was
woman.
x I next answered by letter the advertisement
of a distinguished sdrdnt who was about to
undertake the translation of the Sacred Vedas,
and was in want of an amanuensis. To this
received the following reply:
'MADEMoIsELLE: If your attainments in
the Sanscrit are such as you represent them
am convinced that you would exactly suit me,
were you young man. But / am a bachelor;
there is not a single female in my establish
ment; your sex, therefore, renders it impossi-
Bile for me to employ you as my amanuensis.'
Ny ser againi Discouraged, but not daun-
ted, applied successfully TO the Societe Ash
atique, to the librarian of the Institute and to
three or four private individuals of more or
less note. From all of them i received the
same answer-the situation was not open to
women.
Meantime the few francs / had at my IA
theirs death vanished, one by one. The wo-
man from whom | hired my room became cla-
morous for her rent. l had few superfiuous
articles of clothing. disposed of them at the
Monte-de-Piete, and thus kept the wolf from
the door little longer. When they were all
gone, what should do?
persevered in my quest for employment
1t was all in vain. Many people added insults
to their harsh refusal OF my application, accus-
ing me of being an impostor; for who ever
heard, said they, Of a young girl like me being
acquainted with these abstruse studiesi Day
after day, week after week, plodded on thro
the mire and dirt, for it was winter, the weep
ing winter of Paris. and the obscure and mar
row streets, ttraversed by filthy kennel in
the centre, and destitute of sidewalks through
which my researches led me- were in dread
full condition. And evermore the question re-
Cured TO me, What shall / do?
As day after day passed, and still no OPEN
ing appeared, | thought of the river, rolling
darkly through the heart of the city, in whose
silent tide SO many poor unfortunate has
sought refuge from present misery. One
day, as in the course of my peregrinations
passed the Morgue, / saw the dead body of
young woman which had been taken that NOR
ming from the river, and laid out for recogni-
ton by her friends As / looked on her livid
bloated face, her drenched and tattered gar
ments, her long dark hair hanging in dank
matted masses, and streaming over the edge of
the table on which she lay, my heart was NOV
ed with pity. Yet | half envied her position.
and might have followed her example, but for
my belief in future state. Her body was free
from every mortal i'll, but her poor soul, where
was it?
But besides, looking at it from merely hui
man point of view, there is in my nature GER
tain stern and rugged resolution, sort of
'never-give-up' feeling, which induces me to
hope and struggle on. and leads Inc to think.
with the great Napoleon, that suicide is the
act of a coward, since it is an attempt TO ly
from those evils which God has laid upon us.
rather than to bear them with brave, endur-
ing trust in Providence.
noble bridges, and covered with those innum-
enable barges in which the washerwomen of
Paris ply their unceasing trade, eating. Sleep
ing, and living constantly in their floating
dwellings, would think. with a shudder, that
unless relief soon arrived, / must choose be-
tween its silent waters and a lingering death
by starvation.
True, there are in Paris many employments
open TO women, but what was that to me !?
Could l stand behind counter and set forth,
with glib tongue, the merits of ribbons and
laces; or bend over the rich embroidered robe
of the fashionable lady; or even, like those
poor washerwomen, earn my scanty livelihood
by arduous manual labor? / knew nothing of
business; knew nothing of embroidery; and
had neither the strength nor the capital ne
cessary to set up the establishment of blan-
ckeuse.
! had returned h ONE, one evening, after an
other weary tramp. As / looked from my lof-
~ attic, and saw Paris glittering with her mil
lion lights, said to myself: "must perish of
hunger in these streets? must ] starve in the
midst of that abundance which might be mine
but for the fact that / am acomqn? No!
shall abjure my sex, and in the semblance of
themselves, win from men that subsistence
which they deny to woman"
The thought was no sooner conceived than
executed. Tearing off part of my woman's
attire, L threw around me an old cloak of my
fathers, which now served as coyerlet to nv
lowly bed, and descended the long flights of
stairs to the street. Determined to have legal
sanction for what | was about to do, | went
straight to the Prefecture of Police. 1t was
not yet very late, and the Project was still in
his bureau. entered his presence, told him
my story, and demanded permission to put on
male attire, and assume masculine name. in
n IIa