Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-03-28
AMERICAN WOMEN.

Hepworth Di1on's Observations on Them.
The following sketch intended by the au-
thor as the type of a class of women in
America, is from the pen of VIM. Hepworth
Dixon, whose new book on "Men and
Things" as he has seen them in our country,
is worthy of the perusal, and much of it of
the study of every one interested in our fu-
ture progress and development as nation.
If the picture of Annie Smith is drawn by
a lover of our country and its institutions,
and its colors are somewhat heightened by
the writer's previous experiences Of discom-
forts in his then recent descent of the Rocky
Mountains-yet we know there are such
women scattered over our wild praire lands
and some who bring into our midst their
habits Of neatness and thrift, enough to jus
tify the honest pride we feel in being thus
appreciated by writer justly held in his
own country no less than in ours, as a trust
worthy chronicler of facts, and an able and
acute analyst of habits and principles that
are entering at this momentous period, into
| the formation of our yet unannealed Amer
lean character.
| But is it not well to remember that Annie
| is not the sole occupant of the ranch in the
forest ?-the daughters growing up under
her excellent example to bless and beautify
the desert, cannot alone make it to bud or
blossom as the rose, the search may be a
long one ere another Cyrus is found, but
,k,bat, ha 10 Itgno,,n,aI a,I I,no II,
that he too can build shanty and
make his home comfortable hy the
appliances of hen roost to COW sheds,
a neat garden and well filed wood-house
and granary, then we shall see that if the
Cyruses are what they should be the Armies
will be found TO be what our friend Dixon
has depicted them.
Among many points of difference between
life in the old world and life in the new none
comes more vividly TO the eye than the daily
contrast between the gait, dress, speech, and
occupations of females in the lower ranks.
If Fifth Avenue is u paradise for women, SO
each in its own degree, is the mill, the ranch,
the oil spring, the rice field, and the farm
yard.
A few weeks ago rode out with friend to
see Cyrus Smith, a peasant farmer living in
the neighborhood of Omaha.
Cyrus Smith is small squatter living near
a tiny creek, in log house, on patch of
forest land which he had wrung from nature
by the toll Of his hand, the sweat of his brow.
His shed is not big, the plot of land is not
wide. Within narrow compass every
thing needful in the way of growing stuff
and rearing stock for Family Of young
childred, must be done: cows must be
stalled, pigs Uttered, poultry fed. There is
no wealth to spare in Smiths ranch the
fare is hard, the living is only from hand to
black signs of poverty, of meanness, such as
you would see about an Irish hovel; Bri-
ton? cabin, a valack den. Walk up this gar
denway, thro these neat little beds of fruit
trees, herbs, and flowers. This path might
lead to a gentlemans villa, for the road is
wide and swept, and neither sink nor cess
poll, as in Europe, oilends the eye. Things
appear to have fallen into their proper places.
The shed through is strong and snug a rose,
jessamine, Virginia creeper, climbing
around the door. Inside, the house is scrupr-
lously clean, that you might eat your lunch
as comfortably off its bare planks as you
could from the shining tiles of Dutch floor.
The shelves are many-the pots and pans
are bright. Something like an air of gentle
life is about you; as though a family Of po-
stion suddenly thrown upon its own re-
sources had camped out in the prairie, halt
ing for a season on its march, In the little
parlor, there is vase of flowers, a print, and
bust of Washington. You see at glance
that there is a bright and wholesome woman
in this house
Annie Smith is the type of a class of women
found in America, and in some parts of Eng
above II peasant; in feeling she is little be-
low lady. She has a thousand tasks to
perform; to light her fires, to wash and
dress her children, to scrub her floors, 10
feed her pigs and fowls, to milk her cows,
to fetch in herbs and fruits, to dress and
cook the dinners, to scour and polish her
pals and pans, to churn her butter and press
her cheese, to make and mend the clothes
but she laughs and sings through these daily
tolls with such Il gay humor, such perfect
taste, such an easy compliance, that her
work seems like pleasure and her care like |
pastime. She is neatly dressed; beyond as
an Englishman might think, her station in
life, were ii not that she wears her clothes
though they were cased all day in kid. Her
is easy, her countenance bright.
Her idiom, being that of her class, amuses
stranger by its unconscious sauciness of tone |
But her voice is sweet and low, as becomes
her sex when her sex is at its best. Oddi-
ties of expression you will hear from her
lips, but proianites never. Dirt is her enc
my and her sense of decency keeps the
whole homestead clean. She rises with the
sun, often before the sun; her beds are spot
less, her curtains and hanging like falling
snow. A siciian crib with sheets unwashed
or year, is a thing beyond her imagina-
ion to conceive. No herding with swine,
10 sleeping in the stable, so common in
France, in Italy, in Spain, is even allowed
% her son, to her servant by Annie Smith.
A Kentish barn in hop time, a Caithness
Butliy in hay time, would appear in her eyes
70 be an abomination. Her chicks, her pigs,
her cattle are all penncd up in their roosts,
heir siyes, their sheds. A Munster peasant
Keeps his pig under his bed; Navarese
nuleteer yokes his team in the house; an
Epirote herdsman feeds his goats in the
ngle, and an Egyptian fellah takes his