The common affectation of ignorance of all useful work is another illustration. A young lady sometimes knows how to make certain rare and delicate cake, but she never knows how to make bread; she knows how to make pink dogs in worsted, but not how to make a shirt. She knows how to crochet, but not how to make garments for herself or her brothers; and thus on through the whole list. She knows nothing whatever of useful work, in which the body and heart may be brought into earnest, womanly play. My dear girls, I could show you in this city a sight, which would make you sick at heart. I know a home, in which you could see, on any day, just before dinner, a pale, thin, overworked mother hurrying to and fro in her kitchen, and in the parlor overhead four daughters. One young lady is playing the piano (classical music), and the others are crocheting, tatting, and feasting upon the "Awful Secret of the Mysterious Milk-Maid," and one other thing--waiting to be called to dinner. And, although the mother generally thinks it very hard, I have known many cases where she joined in, and really advocated this plan of bringing up daughters. You may hear such a mother exclaim, "Well, I don't care; my girls shan't be worked to death as I have been. Let them have an easy time while they can; their turn will come soon enough." So they screw up their waists, recline upon a couch, and ponder the "Fearful Doom of the Mysterious Count," and thus get ready to take their turn. Thousands of young ladies, in this city, are being trained for wives and mothers by such means. WOMAN TORTURES HER BODY. Here I want to group the outrages which woman perpetrates upon her beautiful body. To begin at the top, she almost never permits her hair an opportunity to display its natural beauty. At the present moment, a mass of Japanese bark, or false hair, or some other foreign stuff, full of uncleanness, is piled upon the top of the head, while her own natural hair is twisted, and turned, and pinned, and broken, and ruined in doing subordinate, menial service to the dirty foreign intruder. Besides this, her hair is bedaubed with nameless and dirty greases and oils. I asked one of the largest retail druggists in this city, "What one article, or line of goods, do you sell most of?" He replied, without a moment's hesitation, "Preparations for the complexion." These preparations have for their bases three or four deadly poisons. Thousands upon thousands of bottles and boxes are used by the women of Boston every year. Those glands which, in the economy of nature, are appointed to the most sacred and precious of maternal duties and privileges, are, by the pressure and heat of large artificial pads, almost uniformly ruined. A dressmaker assured me that she very rarely made a dress in which the bust was not padded. The heat and pressure soon spoil the glands. She bores holes in her ears, and hangs in various trinkets.