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Y dear," said I last autumn to a young married lady friend, whom in the spring I had seen brilliantly blooming and handsome, "it strikes me you. are looking a little careworn."

"I am," returned she, with great animation, "and I have been giving it as my opinion, that quite too much is expected of women. First, I had all the packing and moving of going down to the sea-shore to attend to. Then, my house was full of visitors all summer; and I had to take breath as well as I could between hurrying a cake into the oven, and being in the parlour to receive or entertain them. Of course there was any quantity of sewing to do; and, as if all this were not enough, Mr. would come in daily to know if I had learned my French lesson, and whether I had given my regular hour to my piano; and now I have just got through with the pleasant experience of selling and stowing our furniture, preparatory to going to Europe. So it is no wonder if I have grown a little thin; and, in fact, as I said before, I have come to the conclusion that entirely too muck is expected of women!" Whether the conclusion be just or otherwise, nothing could more perfectly represent the plight of a multitude of intelligent and ambitious young matrons of moderate means than the lively complaint of my beautiful friend. For in these days of strain and struggle and desire, who of us is