IF there could be such a thing as laughing in a matter of such general importance to human kind as the fixing of this point, there could hardly be any refraining from it, with regard to the conduct of the men-midwives, especially in Paris. There the novices of them, sensible of the natural defect there must be in men-practitioners, apply for improvement to the regular midwives. There is particularly, among others, one Madam Clavier, who, when I knew her, lived in the Rue de St. André, that gave lessons, at so much a-head, to the men-students of midwifery. Yet these same men have no sooner got a smattering of all that is valuable in the profession, for beyond a practical smattering at most nature refuses them further progress; they, I say, have no sooner acquired a little useful insight from these laudably communicative midwives, but they are the first to swell the cry against them of, “oh these _ignorant midwives!_”——or “_what can be expected from a woman?_” And what is more yet, among women it is, that they can make this equally ungrateful and false clamor prevail. And women, in a point of the utmost importance to themselves, prove that the men have, in fact, not quite a wrong idea of their weakness, since they are weak enough to countenance a notion, that so unjustly dishonors them in every sense. But that is not enough. What one should imagine, women especially would consider, is that this notion received with its consequential exclusion of those of their own sex, tends to have their own pains aggravated, and the safety not only of themselves but of their so naturally dear children, yet more endangered.