April 13, 1872
[Page 3]
VICTORIA.
BY HORACE M. RICHARDS.
Thou sower of seed in humanity’s field,
Have faith in thy work, thou art sure of thy yield.
Though thou taste not its fruit, nor garner its grain,
Think not for one moment thy labor is vain.
Still work for thy race, and in years yet to come,
Thy name shall be hallowed in many a home,
‘Neath the roofs where love’s voice the sweetest is heard,
Thy name shall be shrined as a household word.
Fight bravely thy battle, for conquer thou must,
Defeat cometh not to a cause that is just;
Thou art fighting for right, the weak against the strong.
And ever to right doth victory belong.
Thou art sowing the seed in darkness and gloom,
That the sunlight of truth shall bring into bloom;
Thy mission is holy, be true to its need,
And be true to thyself, brave sower of seed.
BUFFALO, N.Y., April 1, 1872.
[Page 14]
FORTY years ago a blooming young girl of sixteen married an old man of sixty for his money, expecting that he would soon die and leave her a wealthy young widow. Last week the lady died at the respectable age of fifty-six, leaving a husband age one hundred, and four children to mourn her loss.
[Page 14]
Mr. T. Winkle having married Miss Starr in Georgia recently, the Savannah “News” epithalamizes the pair with “T. Winkle, T. Winkle, little Starr.”
The choicest and cheapest relish that a gentleman can place upon his table is the Halford Leicestershire
Table sauce. A pint bot[t]le is sold by your No. 1 grocer for only fifty cents.
Mrs. Lucinda H. Stone of Michigan, who is traveling in Syria with a party of young American ladies, gives the following graphic account of the condition of women in the Orient:
There is nothing in all this Eastern country that makes me more sick at heart than the terrible abuse of animals that I everywhere see, except the neglect and abuse of little children, and the most wretched and degraded condition of women, who yet cling to their shame as their highest glory.
“I no like the English,” said the sheik who conducted our party out to the pyramids of Sakara in Egypt, after he had been telling me about an English and American party, with whom he had encamped there for twenty days, who were making explorations.
“I no like the English.”
“And why do you not like the English?” I asked.
“Why, because the English, he have money, and the woman, his wife, she have money too; I no like the woman have money.”
“But don’t your wife have money?” I asked, (for he had before told me how many donkeys he owned, and that he had two good houses in Cairo.)
“No, no,” he answered with a scornful laugh, “my wife no have money. I have the money.”
“But don’t your wife sometimes go to market and to the bazaars to buy things that she wants?”
“No, no” he said, more scornfully still, “my wife go not out of the house, she wear veil, she cover her face to buy what she wants.”
Pursuing the subject, I asked, “And why does your wife wear a veil?”
“O, cause she shame,” he answered. “My wife is my shoe,” is the maxim of marital authority in this country; “haven’t I a right to kick off my shoe or do whatever I please with it?”
And the great difficulty in doing anything for these poor creatures is, that it is the women themselves who are the most opposed to any change. And so said the sheik, closing all his sentences with “My wife is satisfied.”
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