LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2638, 21 September 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

WOMAN’S RIGHTS: A TALE FOR MEN WITH DAUGHTERS. (Concluded.) ‘I don't see why that should he so,’ answered Mr Harkwell, mildly; ‘I am a gentleman, I trust, and my daughters will remain ladies, though they earn their own living. Come, just reason on our pcs'tion calmly. Is it natural that a man of my means should bring np seven girls In absolute dependency on him, with Ihe risk of leaving them chargeable upon others if he were to die without having amassed a fortune 1 Is there any law in common sense by which a father of seven girls should look upon himself ns having seven helpless mouths to provide for so long as these girls may live f Am I bound to argue that If two or three of my girls live to ninety, unman led they shall seventy or eighty years hence be supporting themselves only by means of what I shall have been able to save P* ‘ That is all very well, bnt tho world Is not going to be reformed out of Wattleport,’ replied tho friend, * if you moan to set np as a prophet, Harkwell, yon must expect a prophet’s reward In his own country,’ This bard truth was not to be gainsaid, and Mr Harkwell was not so indifferent to the world’s esteem as to be altogether callous to the tokens of reprobation with which he was visited. His former associates lawyers, doctors, clergymen, small squires —looked upon him as a dissemina'or of dangerous doctrines which might possibly Infect their own girl< ; and those of them whose Incomes were most precarious and who would havejdoue bosk to follow his example became his sharpest censors. At Christmas time, when the girls came home for their holidays, soma good people got up a sort of conspiracy not to Invite them to their parties ; and this was very mortifying to Mrs Harkwell, though the girls themselves were amused at it. Their bright happy looks, the pleasure they took In their now pursuits, the hopes they derived from them, brought great comfort to their father; and then it must bo owned that all gentry in Wattleport were not narrowminded simpletons. The richer merchants and bankers of the place esteemed Mr Harkwell for bis courage, and spoke well of him la proportion as hla former weak bnecd friends fell away. The must trying thing Mr Harkwell had to pat np with for a time was an undoubted falling-off of hla practice. Eccentric lawyers or doctors are people to beware of, and when be balanced bis accounts at the end of a twelvemonth, the solicitor fonnd that his earnings had diminished by £ICO. An event which occurred two years after Jenny Harkwell had gone to study for the stage in London set a section of ihe public further against the father. Jenny was then thirteen, and her teachers who were eminent in the dramatic profession, and took great interest in their pupil, wrote to say that they eonld get her an engagement to play the part of a little girl In a comedy by a famous author Faithful to his rule of consulting his otildren’s Interests, Mr Harkwell readily gave his consent. So Jenny came oat, and her debut was kindly noticed as one of promise by the newspapers. The piece had a run of 300 nights, and Jenny earned about £l5O, after which she got another engagement at £3 a week. Stimulated by this example, Mr Harkwell’s fifth daughter, Lucy, declared she would be an actress too, and as her sister’s instructors said they should be happy to take her in hand, she went to london likewise. But hereupon some truly good people began to murmur aloud. It was said that Mr Harkwell intended that one of his daughters should become a circus rider, another a barmaid, and that the youngest child, aged three, was already being trained by her mother to balance herself on a tightrope i One or two charitable associations, which bad employe! Mr Harkwell as their solicitor, dismissed him from that post of confidence, drawing other cVarltable clients away with them, and the lawyer found he had reached rather an anxious crisis in his affairs. Bat he struggled on, and gradually won better clients than he had lost, for hard times spurred him to fresh exertions. A peer of great wealth In the county appointed him his agent simply because his lordship had heard of the outcry against him; a merchant of Wattleport, who had seen his daughter sot in London, was so pleased that he called on her father to say so, and from that day took to consulting him in all his affairs. This example was soon followed by others, and rival lawyers soon noticed that a great deal of important and respectable business somehow fonnd Its way into Mr Harkwe I’s office. Thus five years more pasied, and at the end of that time the seed which the thoughtful father had sown was bearing fruit with a vengeance. Jenny and Lnoy had been so lucky as to make a great bit In a play where they had appeared together, and their reputation as charming, admirably trained actresses was established. On her nineteenth birthday Jenny signed a two years’ engagement for herself and her sister, by which she was to receive £I2OO a year and Lnoy £BOO, Evie who, after finishing her studies in France and Germany, went to Girton and graduated there, had obtained an excellent situation as mistress in a ladies’ college at £250 a year ; and Mr Hartwell’s eldest daughter, Mary, hai oome to Wattleport with a University of London diploma to practice as a physician. Of coarse It was said that ‘Dr. Mary’ would never get any patients, and all the witlings of the town had their fling at her ; but she soon got a good many patients. In spite of all that prejudice may say to tbe contrary, it Is a well-known fact that female physicians render the greatest services by attending on their own sex and on children. Women of all ranks, but particularly the Ignorant, are often restrained by false deli oaoy from making their complaints known to male doctors, and this accounts for their readiness to consult female quacks, old women who profess a to foretell the future, foolish nurses, and dishonest midwives, Mary Harkwell did not profess to attend upon men; but patients of her own sex abounded In her consulting room, and not one ever regretted having taken her prescriptions. Mary was a little staidor in her attire and manners than an ordinary lady would be, as became an independent worn in who knows that all her acts are closely and even malevolently watched ; but she gave herself no airs, nor made her honorable calliag ridiculous by assuming mannishness of tone. She resided In her father’s hocse, snd was in all respects as agreeable and engaging a person as any other intelligent young lady. Florrle Harkwell, who had worked for seven years as her father’s clerk, was naturally of all her sisters the one who made least stir, for she bad no pretensions to eot np as a lawyer on her own account The mission she had to fulfil was to he a helpmate to her father and mother, and In this double duty she succeeded to their loving satisfaction. She assisted M-s Harkwell in teaching her two youngest sisters, Minnie and Grace, and by dint of assiduous and cheerful work In her father’s office, she became to him a most valuable secretary She had picked up such a kuowlege of law that when any new case was brought Into the office she oould be trusted to read up the statutes that concerned them, and make notes as clear and apposite as the chief clerk himself] Many lady clients had got to know her, and if her father happened to be out whm they called, they never scrupled to ornfide their business to her, and Plor/ie would draw up short statements of their oases for her father’s opinion w.th a precision which he was never weary of admiring. Mr Harkwell used to say he was a lucky man to have snch a daughter, and the other lawyers of tho town, though they still affected to make fun of the ‘ learned Miss Florence.’ secretly eovled him. Thus Mr Harkwell was fortuna'e ia his children, and prospered through them, for at length it bstell that the office of county coroner (salary £1000) was vacant, and Mr Harkwell offered himself as one of the candidates. All his enemies— for a successful mm has many—raTled round his opponents ; and once more all the stale jokes about women’s rights, clrccs riders, and tight ropes were paraded for the pnbllo amusement Bat aft this time Jenny and Lnoy Harkwell, who were on a provincial tour, came to Wattleport to give a performance In aid of some local charities ; and hearing how electoral matters were going on, they organised, unknown to their father, a little comedy called * Women’s Rights,’ In which all the prejudices of their father’s opponent a were paraded, not spitefully, but in a grave

spirit of goo I fan. This little eklt, noted to perfection by the two gifted girls, took wonderfully well. It turned the tables on 'he croakers who fancied they had had the jocularities of the contest all on their side j snd Mr Harkwell was triumphantly elected. His enemies were fain to own that he had found two strong advocates to plead for him.

Mr Harkwell lived to sea his five eldest daughters married—and well married. But though they relinquished their severa 1 profeEslons on Decoining wives and mo’.hors, the experience they had gained, and the happi* ness they had enjoyed bv the cultivation of self-reliance, were not lost on them, and certainly made them better, stronger, more ns' ful women than they would hare been* As to women's rights in the abstract, the only form In which they or their father had been concerned to assert their dootrice was in claiming for girls the right to work when they please, without being persecuted or maligned for their pains. A SI BIKING LEGACY.

The persons assembled at 1 umber Hall to hear the reading of old Mr Umberglowth’e will, after his funeral, Included all the nearest relatives of the deceased ; and they happened to be individuals so diverse in their pursuits and characters, that It was only in such a place and for snch a purpose that they oould have met at all. But all were equally interested in the circumstance that had brought them together, for Mr Umberglowth had died a childless widower, and his large property was unentailed. He had been a cold, stern, unsociable old man, living much a'one j and had never favored a soul with any hint os to how ho should dispose of his wealth - except that he had once said that his should go to bis own kin, cot to public charities or ‘any non sense of that kind.’ It was gen rally supposed that his oonaln, Mr Steven Umberglowth, would be found to have inherited the balk of the property ; and Stephen was of this hopefnl opinion himself. He had been received at the hall as the presumed heir, and had taken upon himself to do the honors of the place to bis relatives These were lady Beakwell, the deceased’s sister-ln law ; tbe Bev. Clement Gloam ; aod Mr Dennis Oalllngolere, sons of his two sisters, who were dead Mrs Gloam and Mrs Oa’.lingolere had both come with tbeir husbands to attecd tbe funeral, and there was also present to hear tbe will read Dr. Grinning, the deceased's physician, and Dr. Brush, vicar of the parish. These two had been Invited by Mr Purkln, the solicitor, who had the will in his keeping. It has bean said that Mr Umberglowth’s relations were dissimilar in their character ; they were so mnoh so. Indeed that daring tbe two days they had spent at Lumber Hall they had found little to s*y to one another. Lady Beakwell was a widow of fifty-five, with a snug jointure of £IOOO a year, who weut a good deal into society, and consorted only with people of the highest rank. A very well-dressed, selfish gentlewoman she was, with excellent manners, a shrewd mind and sarcastic tongue. She passed for a wit, though she set up no pretensions to that character by saying smart things at random, which would have been a vulgarity despicable in her sight. She simply peeked at people and things obnoxious to her when they came in her way, The Bev. Clement Gloam, vicar of St. Capercoyt’s, Pimlico, was a tall, lank-halred, smooth-jowled Ritualist of thirty, with a sad voice and unctuous ways. He wore a cassock and Gloucester hat, and was noted for both the rigidity of his tenets and for bis eloquence iu the pulpit. He bad a private Income of £IOOO. besides what he drew from bis church, and he was happy In the possession of a wife who was as strict as himself, who always dressed In b’aok, and who looked np reverently to her husband as a martyr having fought against wild beasts at Bpheaua—that Is, sgalast his bishop and other raging Low Churchmen. Denny Oallingclere and his pretty wife Alice were two very different people, and little better than heathen In the sight of Mr and Mrs Gloam, They bad an Income of £ISOO, and spent every penny of It in enjoying themselves at raoe meetings and In the banting field. They always rode together; they both betted ; they whiled away their autumn and winter in rounds of visits to country houses, where they were ever welcome, and they were the gayest, brightest, most attached couple you could find. They had come down to Lumber, hoping Uncle Umberglowth had remembered them for ‘ a thou or two ’ which would help them to pay off out 5 tan ling ‘ ticks,’ but they were less concerned about their chances than anybody present, and had no intention of palling faces at uncle Stephen If the latter should get the whole Inheritance to his own cheek. Stephen Umberglowth was just the man whom the world, In its discretion, would have fastened upon *s a fit heir, for was he not the great Mr Umberglowth whom everybody knew—the statistician, politician, and general critic of other men’s ‘ iems !’ He was a tall, pompous, red-eared, bald person, with full lips always protruding, as if they were going to say ‘pooh-pooh.' The bump of veneration was wanting on his pate, but self-esteem was largely developed. He was a practical man, who crowed, and scoffed, and said ‘tut, tnt,’ and defied mankind to oppose any arguments to his common - sense view of things. He had twice triad to get into Parliament, and had nearly succeeded both times; it was thought he would get in before long, and he himself tdked of the idea of his being beaten a third time as ‘ preposterous.’ Stephen Umberglowth was married bat kept bis wife In the background as an Inferior creature, Inapt for rational argument; and he had two sons, still at school, who, by hla orders, were undergoing a practical education In mathematics, geology, natural science, and modern languages, with as little Latin and Greek and ‘other such fooleries’ as possible. Just before the will was opened, Stephen Umberglowth thought good to slug the praises of bis deceased cousin by way of a change, for he seldom praised living people. He had also observed that his kinsfolk seemed to have no lively appreciation of the deceased's character. ‘ A man of great shrewdness, he was, I assure you,’said he, with a knowing wag of the head. ‘I used sometimes to run down hero and see him. He and I were of opposite opinions on all conceivable subjects, but I fl»tter myself that I talked him over.' * I once talked with him about his rell • glon, but met with no success, ’ remarked Mr Gloam, dismally. ‘Pooh, pooh, religious systems, my dear Gloam. , . . Well, well, as yon are a parson, I won’t ray what I think about them.’ ‘ Why didn't you advise him to Invite some friends down and shoot hla preserves V asked Alice Oalllngolere, ‘I never saw snch a quantity of pheasants and hares going about wild. ’ ‘What a sentiment for a woman,’ exclaimed the great Mr Umberglowth, * you and year husband, my dear, lead lives absolutely devoid of common sense, preserving game that you may kill it; breeding life only to destroy. If yon want sport, why not make It useful to the community by destroying rata and mice T ’ ‘ vVe do when we get a chance,’ said Alice mildly. 1 Well, your uncle was not above the country gentleman’s foible about fox-hunt-ing,’ confessed Stephen Underglowth, ‘when he was young, he hunted ; but In his latter days I tried to make him understand what a foolish waste of capital and energy there was in setting sixty hounds and as many men to gallop after a fox. He used to listen without answering, bnt I am sure I made an Impression ; he was an old-fashioned gentleman, your uncle, bat very keen and sound of sense. A wonderfully aenrate judge of character to begin with.’ ‘ I expect he used to praise yon It you say that,’ laughed Mrs CaTingolere. ‘ I am as indifferent to praise, Alice, as I am to all the luxuries and amusements that seem to please yon,’ remarked Stephen, loftily. *Your uncle read me aright, and esteemed me, I believe, which was only natural, as I never gave him occasion to doubt the soundness of my judgment ’ (T» he continued)