The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-10-21
Woman.

Woman.
Woman is an institution common
to all civilized countries, in one of
which we are proud to have our
birth-right andllocal llabitation. AS
an institution she has been praised to
the topmost pinnacle of lofty repu-
tatlon, and she has been cursed in
Delilah, Borgia, IN Anna Dickin
son, and few others of an infamous
sort of character Writers, who have
mentioned woman at all, have made
it their special duty to praise or
blame her. They fancy that the
dilemma has but two horns, and that
they are obliged to lay hold on one or
the other Of them.
But there is an interesting be-
tweenity which is emphatically worthy
of honorable mention, and which has
been allowed to suffer from neglect.
We allude to the common place
woman, who is not illustriously good
nor notoriously wicked; but one who
gets up a fellows linen in an unim-
peachable style, and fries doughnuts
according to Mrs. Hall. These are
home women, and their sphere of
action is limited by the"fence around
their yard, but their influence extends
much further.
Our recollections of this class of
our subject commences very early.
1t was one of them that first intro
duced us to "huckaback softened
with soap" that polished the surface
of our face for Sabbath school, and
spanked us for interfering with the
setting hen, or trying the bounding
qualities of our ball upon the surface
of the parlor mirror. It was one of
these commonplace women sippered
us into the mysteries of Cornly's
spelling, and gave force to the cate
chlsm by vigorous application of
''corset-board. ''Spare the rod and
spoil the child" was not illustrated
IN our juvenile management Hence
we are justified in advocating this
special class of womanhood.
1t IS by no means an insignificant
class; but, when kept out of books
and "blue stockings" they are the
most useful and influential of their
race. 1t is to them that the sex who
has the bills to pay looks for the
genius of his household. No man
wants Joan Of Arc to sew on his
buttons or dish tea. A Jenny Lind
would cut poor figure in the COM
aissary department Of a we'll regu-
lated household. A Browning or a
Hemens would be sadly away from
Helicon in attempting the regulation
of ''well-spring OF pleasure. No,
the high pressure women are not
sought after to fill these inches in
life. They are comets in the home of
galaxy, and their tales are not good
lullaby for the baby, nor do thev
answer we'll for the larder.
But our betweenities just fill the
bill. They are mistresses of the art
Of housekeeping. They are the
genii Of order. Chaos cannot exist
where their fingers are free. Put one
OF them in bachelors apartment for
half an hour, and the poor brute who
owns the apartment would think he
was an intruder on somebody's pre-
misses, when he returns They are a
glorious set of creatures. They spank
us, and kiss us, and scrub us, while
young, cajole us when we come to be
boys, jilt, and firt with, and tanta-
lize, and finally marry us as lovers,
then make themselves slaves to our
wardrobes, and spend our loose
change ddHbaum. 1t is this class of
women that buffers our toast, darns
our socks, restores our buttons.
brushes our castors, scolds us for
staying out at night, lectures us on
each Of the articles in the code Of
propriety, tweaks our noses for smil-
ing too fondly on Susan Jane High
flyer; in short, they are our guardian
angels, the moulders of our morals
and our manners, the spenders of our
money, the everything that elevates
the nature Of man and makes him
feel that he is not altogether lord of
all he surveys-especially inside his
own domicile
The public may go mad overa Ris-