into law, we see the real effects of nature. The wild Huron shall, to
the object of his love, become gently as his weary rein-deer;--he shall
present to her the spoil of his bow on his knee;-he shall watch without
reward the cave where she sleeps;--he shall rob the birds for feathers
for her hair, and dive for pearls for her neck;--her look shall be his
law, and her beauties his worship!" He then endeavors to prove that, as
it is the destiny of man to be ruled by woman, he ought, for his own
sake, to render her as fit for that task as possible:--" How can we be
better employed than in perfecting that which governs us? The brighter
they are, the more we shall be illumined. Were the minds of all women
cultivated by inspiration, men would become wise of course. They are a
sort of pentagraphs with which nature writes on the heart of man;--what
_she_ delineates on the original map will appear on the copy."

In showing how much less women are able to struggle against adversity
than men, he says,--"As for us, we are born in a state of warfare with
poverty and distress. The sea of adversity is our natural element, and
he that will not buffet with the billows deserves to sink. But you, oh
you, by nature formed of gentler kind, can _you_ endure the biting
storm? shall you be turned to the nipping blast, and not a door be open
to give you shelter?"

After describing, with evident seriousness, the nature of the
institution of Madame de Maintenon, at St. Cyr, he adds the following
strange romantic allusion: "Had such a charity as I have been speaking
of existed here, the mild _Parthenia_ and my poor _Laura_
would not have fallen into untimely graves."

The practical details of his plan, in which it is equally evident that
he means to be serious, exhibit the same flightiness of language and