"'It wouldn't pay for her bonnets,' I replied." Now ladies, Robert is getting extravagant, so we will let him retire, and I will go on with my little sermon. I do not often preach, but in this case, nothing but a sermon will do. BEAUTY OF WOMAN'S BODY. Firstly, you are perfect idiots to go on in this way. Your bodies are the most beautiful of God's creation. In the continental galleries I constantly saw groups of people, gathered about the pictures of women. It was not passion; the gazers were quite as likely to be women, as men. It was the wondrous beauty of woman's body. Now stand with me at my office window, and see a lady pass. There goes one! Now isn't that a pretty looking object? A big hump, three big humps, a wilderness of crimps and frills, a hauling up of the dress here and there, an enormous hideous mass of false hair or bark piled on the top of her head, and on the very top of that, a little nondescript thing, ornamented with bits of lace, birds' tails, etc.; while the shop windows tell us all day long, of the paddings, whalebones, and springs, which occupy most of the space within that outside rig. In the name of all the simple, sweet sentiments which cluster about a home, I would ask, how is a man to fall in love with such a compound, doubled and twisted, starched, comical, artificial, touch- me-not, wiggling curiosity? THIS DRESS CHECKS YOUR MOVEMENTS. Secondly, with that wasp waist, your lungs, stomach, liver, and other organs squeezed down out of their place, and into one half their natural size, and with that long trail dragging on the ground, how can any man of sense, who knows that life is made up of use, of service, of work; how can he take such partner? He must be desperate to unite himself for life with such a deformed, fettered, half breathing ornament. If I were in the matrimonial market, I might marry a woman that had but one arm, or one eye, or no eyes at all, if she suited me otherwise; but so long as God permitted me to retain my senses, I could never join my fortunes with those of a woman with a small waist. A small waist! I am a physiologist, and know what a small waist means. It means the organs of the abdomen jammed down into the pelvis; it means the organs of the chest stuffed up into the throat; it means a weak back; it means a delicate, nervous invalid; it means a suffering patient, and not a vigorous helpmate. Thousands of men dare not venture, because they wisely fear that, instead of a helpmate, they will get an invalid to take care of. Besides, this bad health in you, just as in men, made the mind, as well as the body, faddled and effeminate. You have no power, no magnetism. I know you giggle freely, and use big words, such as splendid, awful, etc.; but then, this does not deceive us; we see through all that sort of thing. The fact is, you are superficial, affected, silly. You have none of that womanly strength and warmth which are so assuring and attractive to men.