The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-03-20
MRS. OAUDLE'S CURTAIN LECTURES.
SontinUed from our last issue.
THE TWENTY-SECOND LECTURE.

q black slave, and not a wife, Pm sure
ia better been born a negro at once
much better. WhafS the matter noD
Wen, | like that. Upon my life Mr.. Caudle
that's very cool. l can't leave the house just
TO buy yard of ribbon but you storm
enough to carry the roof Off You didn't storm
you only spoke Spoke indeed No, sir
I've not such supertne feelings, and don't
cry out before Pm hurt. But you ought to
nave married a woman of stone, for you feel
Tor nobody; that is, for nobody in your own
mouse. only wish you'd show some of your
humanity at home, if ever so little-that's all.
"What do you say ? Where's ma teelinqs,
TO go d-Sbopping at night? When would you
have me go In the broiling sun, making my
face like gipsy's. l don't see anything to
laugh at, Mr.. Caudle but you think of any
bodys face before your wite's. Oh that's
I plain enough, and all the world can see it, |
dare say, now, if it was Miss Prettyman's face
now, now, Mr.. Caudle What are you
throwing yourself about for l suppose
Miss Prettyman isn't so wonderful a person
that she isn't to be named l suppose she's
flesh and blood. What You don't knooo
Ha don't know that.
'What, Mr.. Caudle? You'll haze a separate
T0om-youU not be tormented in this manner
No, you won't, sir-not while Pm alive. A
4 separate room And you call yourself a
\ religious man, Mr.. Caudle. I'd advise you to
Il take down the Prayer Book and read over the
DCl NlOSs n S6pdIdJ6 IOOll, luu6bu
y Caudle, you're getting quite a heather. A
separate room Well, the servants would
talk then! But no: no man--not the best
that ever trod, Caudle-should ever make me
~ look so contemplate.
4 81 sha'n't go to sleep; and you ought to
know me better than to ask me to hold my
tongue. Because you come home when I've
K just stepped out to do a little shopping, you're
worse than Fury. should like to know how
many hours | sit up for you! What do you
say Nobody o0dntS me to SIT up? Ha that's
like the gratitude of men-just like 'em
But poor woman can't leave the house, that
what? Why can't 90 at reasonable hours
Reasonable What do you call eight o'clock
n Ii L went out at eleven and twelve, as you
came home, then you might talk; but seven
or eight o'clock-why it's the cool Of the
evening; the incest time to enjoy walk, and,
as say, do a little bit of shopping. Oh, yes,
MIR. Caudle, l do think of the people that
= kept in the shops just as much as you; but
that's nothing at all to do with it. | know
what you'd have. You'd have all those young
men let away from the counter to improve
81 what you please to call their minds. Pretty
nouons you pick up among a set OF free
thinkers, and | don't know what When
was girl, people never talked of minds-intel-
lect, believe you call it. Nonsense a new
tangled thing, just come up; and the sooner it
goes out the better.
II 'Don't tell mel What are shops for, if
"a Luey We uOC 10 De open LATE anu early IOO
= And what are shOpmen, if they've not always
to attend upon their customers? People pay
for what they have, | suppose; and ar'n't to
be told when they shall come and lay their
money out, and when they sha'n't! Thank
goodness if one shop shuts, another keeps
open; and / always think it duty owe to
81 myself to go to the shop that's open last; it's
the only way to punish the shopkeepers that
are idle, and give themselves airs about early
Vi hours.
''Besides, there's some things like to buy
best at candle-light. Oh don't talk to me
about humanity Humanity, indeed, for a
pack of tall, strapping young fellows-some
of 'em big enough to be shown for giants !!
And what have they to do? Why nothing
Il but to stand behind a counter, and talk
civility. Yes, know your notions; you say
everybody works too much: | know that.
~ You'd have all the world do nothing half its
time but twiddle its thumbs or walk in the
: parks, or go to picture galleries and museums,
and such nonsense. Very fine, indeed; but,
# thank goodness the world isn't come to that
Z pass yet
"What do you say l am, Mr.. Caudlel A
( foolish arOman, that can't tOoG beyond my o0h
freSide? Oh, yes, / can; quite as far as you,
and great deal farther. But can't go out
shopping little with my dear friend, Mrs
> Wittles-what do you laugh at Oh, don't
they? Don't women know what friendship is
Upon my life you've nice opinion of us Oh
q yes, we can-we can look outside of our OWL
tenders, Mr.. Caudle. And if we can't, it's al
the better for our families. A blessed thing
it would be for their wives and children i
men couldn't, either. You wouldn't have
- lent that five pounds-and dare say gooC
many other five pounds that know nothing
- - Off you-a lord of the creation had hal
the sense women have. You seldom catch us
I believe, lending five pounds. l shoulC
think not.
''No: we won't talk of it tomorrow morn
ing. You're not going to wound my feeling
n when / come home, and think Pm to sa.
* nothing about it. You have called me an in
human person; you have said that l have n
thought, no feeling for the health and comfor
of my fellow creatures | don't know wha
& you haven't called me and only for buying
but l shan't tell you what no, l won
satisfy you there-but you've abused me i
this manner, and only for shopping up to l
o'clock You've great deal of fine compaS
sion, you have Pm sure the young ma
that served me could have knocked down a
OK; yes, strong enough to lift house br
you can pity him-oh yes, you can be a
kindness for him, and for the world, as yo
call it. 0 Caudle, what hypocrite you are
only wish the world knew how you treate
your poor wife
N"What do you say? For the looe Of mert
let you sleep? Mercy, indeed / wish yO
could show little Oft to other people. Ol
yes, do know what mercy means but that
no reason / should go shopping a bit earli
than do-and won't. No you've preach'
this over to me again and again you've MAJ
on To meAtinps IN hear all about IL D