“Oh Mr. Author,” says Miss Graveairs, “I did not expect this from you.” “Very well, Sir, very well! This is like you!” says the Bow-Begum. “Was there ever such an atrocious libel upon the sex,” says the Lady President of the Celestial Blues. The Ladies of the Stocking unanimously agree in the sentence of condemnation. Let me see, who do I know among them. There is Mrs. Lapis Lazuli and her daughter Miss Ultramarine,—there is Mrs. Bluestone, the most caustic of female critics, and her friend Miss Gentian,—Heaven protect me from the bitterness of her remarks,—there is Lady Turquoise, Lady Celestina Sky, the widow Bluebeard, Miss Mazarine, and that pretty creature Serena Cerulean, it does me good to look at her, she is the blue-bell of the party. There is Miss Sapphire, Miss Priscilla Prussian, Mrs. Indigo, and the Widow Woad. And Heaven knows who beside. Mercy on me—it were better to be detected at the mysteries of the Bona Dea, than be found here! Hear them how they open in succession— Infamous! Shameful! Intolerable! This is too bad. He has heaped together all the slanderous and odious things that could be collected from musty books. Talk of his Wife and Daughter. I do not believe any one who had wife and daughter would have composed such a Chapter as that. An old batchelor I warrant him, and mustier than his books. Pedant! Satirist! Libeller! Wretch! Monster! And Miss Virginia Vinegar compleats the climax by exclaiming with peculiar emphasis, Man! All Indigo-land is in commotion; and Urgand the Unknown would be in as much danger _proh-Jupiter!_ from the Stockingers, if he fell into their hands, as Orpheus from the Mænades. _Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ?_ Why Ladies! dear Ladies! good Ladies! gentle Ladies! merciful Ladies! hear me,—hear me! In justice, in compassion, in charity hear me! For your own sakes, and for the honour of feminality hear me! What has the wretch to say? What _can_ he say? What indeed _can be said_? Nevertheless let us hear him, so bad a case must always be made worse by any attempt at defending it. Hear him! hear him! Englishwomen, countrywomen, and lovelies,—lovelies I certainly may call you, if it be not lawful for me to say lovers,—hear me for your honour, and have respect to your honour that you may believe, censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may be better judges. Who is here so unfeminine that would be a male creature? if any, speak; for her have I offended. Who is here so coarse that would not be a woman! if any, speak; for her have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love her sex? if any speak; for her have I offended. I can have offended none but those who are ashamed of their womanhood, if any such there be, which I am far from thinking.