The Dress of Civilized Women.
I do declare that I think it would be better to die and get out of torment at once than have to rise every morning for some forty or fifty years, and box one's body up in a sort of compressive armor, hang weights to one's hips, and more weights upon one's head—which last are supported by the roots of the hair; put one's feet into shoes a number too small, and not of the right shape, and with heels like stilts; and then set about doing the whole duty of woman with a cheerful face and a spry air, for from fifteen to seventeen mortal hours out of the twenty-four. That there are so many women who are not frightened into a decline at such a prospect, and that they bravely undertake to do it—nay, more, that they even dream that, under such disadvantages, they can work side by side with an unshackled man, and that they die in trying to do it, certainly says much for their courage, but very little for their common sense. A man's dress, to a great extent, is fashioned for comfort. He has contrivances for suspending the weight of his clothing from his shoulders. If the east wind blows, he can turn up his coat collar, button himself up snugly, slouch his hat over his eyes, thrust his hands into his pockets, and brave the weather. But imagine a woman removing her hat or bonnet from the angle at which fashion says she must wear it, on account of the weather, or turning any of her “fixtures” up to protect her neck and throat, or buttoning anything that was unbuttoned before, or sticking her hands into her pockets! She would be taken for an improper character out on a mild spree, or for an escaped inmate of a lunatic asylum, should she endeavor, by any impromptu arrangement of her habiliments, to save her health.—Science of Health.