Advice to the Girls.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IV, Issue 179, 15 April 1873, Page 7

Advice to the Girls.

Ladies—caged birds of beautiful plumage, but sickly looks—pale pets of the parlour, who vegetate in an unheal thy atmosphere, like the potato germinating in a dark cellar, why don't yon go into the open air and warm sunshine, and add lustre to your eyes, bloom to your cheeks, elasticity to your step, and vigour to your frames 1 Take exercise, roam the fields, elimb the fences, leap the ditches, wade the brooks, and after a day of exhilarating exercise and unrestrained liberty, go home with an appetite acquired by healthy enjoyment. The beautiful and blooming young lady—rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed —who can darn s stocking, mend her own frock, command a regiment of pots and kettles, feed the pigs, milk the cows, and be a lady when required, is a girl the young men are in quest of for a wife. But your pining, screwed-up, wasp-waisted, dolldressed, music murdering, novel-devouring, daughters of fashion and idleness, are no more fit for matrimony than a pullet is to look after a brood of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my dear girls, you want less fashionable restraint and more liberty of action ; more kitchen and less parlour ; more leg exercise and less sofa; more frankness and less mock-modesty. Loosen your waist-strings, and breathe pure atmosphere, and become something as good and beautiful as nature designed.