The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1878-08-01
For the Citizen.
The Beauty and Worth Of Woman

But tairer far the tints that speak
OF innocence on woman's cheek.
Dear to the blossom is the dew
That can its fading bloom renew,
But dearer far shall lovers sip
The honey-dew on woman's lip.n
So much has already been said.
written, preached and sung in ref
erence to the outside of woman that
it were almost useless for me to re-
iterate, expatiate, translate, sub
stantiate, prevaricate or predicate
on the subject. Still it is my prov
Ince to dive into those waters to
which the spirit leads me and bring
up thence such pearls as may per-
chance be found therein.
Then to commence. Without en-
dorsing the ultra opinions of some
that the tree of vice takes root in
the heart of man alone, and the
flowers of virtue abound with wo-
man exclusively, will say that she
is the loveliest portion of the homo
race, and with her virtue is a more
conspicuous ornament than with
her protector man. Setting aside
this particular distinction, l ask
where is there a being of the mas
culIne gender that stands upright
upon two pedestals, and whose heart
has not become clay hardened in
the kiln of selfishness, that will not
respect a woman, the wool of whose
sympathies is as much finer than
his as goose down is finer than the
wiry locks of a water spaniel. Be
ing born of a woman, as we all
were; rocked in the cradle of her
maternal love; our infantile slum-
bers sweetened by her seraphic
lullabies, and our little feet taught
to travel in the way we should 90
through the guidance of her anx-
ious solicitude, ought we not to
look upon her as something more
than a mere plaything for the pas
sions, and esteem her beyond the
four-penny toys which please the
child for a moment and then are
cast aside forever. Look at the
personlfcatio1s of beauty, worth
and virtue; they are all women.
The MUSES., the three Graces and
Fancy, Memory and Religion were
women; the princess and foundress
of the good arts, Minerva, who
sprang from the brain of the god
like Jove, was woman. Woman
is a model of such exquisite work
that dame nature dare not
try an apprentice hand upon her, as
Burns has remarked. No; the first
unskilful attempt was upon man,
which crude specimen answered
very well to the original design, but
all the improvements, the beauty,
the polish, the finish, were left to
be made upon the lasses; and now
we see daily around us thousands
Of fac-similes of that feminine per
lection which ornamented the gay
garden of Paradise and captivated
the heart of its first lonely tenant.
l guess a toad was the first ami
NAL created and woman was the
last. Mark the improvement and
then hush up forever about your
steamships, your railways and your
balloons. The progress
Of improvement from toads to wo-
men in the short space of SIX days
them all. Add to the
charms of her nature all the excel
lence of a virtuOus education, let
these be engrafted upon a mind |
overlooking with the juice of truth
and sincerity, and then it is no won
der that somebody said that "woman
may be said to be q domesticated |
animal caught while young in the
ever blooming groves of heaven"
wonder if somebody won't say
that that is wicked and profane too.
If he does, hope the women will
catch him and double and twist him
and squeeze him to death in a cider |
press, and bottle him up and sell !
him for acetic acid). But to re
turn. The glow of innocence and !
virtue on a fair damsePs cheek adds |
a fresh tint to the rose of her beau
ty-a tint not liable to fade in the
atmosphere of vice, and |
one that will blain its hue even
amid the fast falling frost of age.
Though a woman may wear a com
plain exterior, if she only
have the oil and turpentine of puri-
ty it will work to the surface and
smooth over a thousand asperities
that would otherwise stick out to
be kissed by the cold lips of indif
ference. / don't mean to assert that
every woman is distressingly beau
tiful, but l have been speaking of
her generally. All lovers, however,
think the objects of their affections
the most beautiful butterflies that
ever fitted around the rosy bowers
Of love. No matter if a girl be as
ugly as a blue pig with a saffron
coiored tail, if a young man once
gets his sympathies hitched On to
her Sampson in all his glory couldn't !
pull him loose. He will call her
his idol, his morning glory, his daft
In short, his fancy |
will associate her with all that is |
lovely, sublime, sickning, sweet and |
silly. He will imagine that he can
even sip honey dew from her lips |
after she has made a dinner of on
ons and raddishes, and that like an |
lncorked vial of bergamot she is
ever surrounded by the sweetest of
Such is the infatuation
IF the lover.
But the beauty of woman without
her worth is all moonshine, because
he polish of the former without the
oil of the latter will all disappear in
he drizzling rains of time; and
ieath for a certainty will sooner or
alter snatch the wreath of roses
rom the brow of the beautiful belle
md garland it with the mournful
cypress. OH it hangs icicles on
he heart to lift aside the pail that
covers the marble substance of
beauty, and find that the spirit
which once animated it is no longer
hcre-all is silent, all is motionlsss.
Dust is returning to dust, and the
ioul, tired OF its costly tenement,
las gone to that foreign land about
which you and know just as much
low as we ever will until we get
here, though the preachers talk