There have been certain losses in this development. For instance, there has appeared among us, for the first time in the history of woman, the girl who does not care about her personal appearance. She wears uncompromising spectacles, instead of a dainty _pince-nez_, she cuts her hair short, she wears a jacket all angles; there is no roundness in her figure, there is no sweet look of Venus in her face. Now, even on the philosophic countenance of Hypatia men loved to discern that sweet and gracious look of Venus, which made her philosophy palatable and her lectures tolerable. Fortunately, this girl is as yet very scarce; generally, it is whispered, there are certain sufficient reasons for her indifference to dress; and it has even been remarked of her that, if she did not study and do her best to uglify herself, it would still be impossible, by any arrangement of hair or costume, for her to beautify herself. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI THE COUNTRY TOWN “I saw the people that were therein, and how they dwelt after the manner of the Zidonians, quiet and secure, and had no dealings with any man.”--BOOK OF JUDGES. Let us leave London, and visit a certain English country town--a market town--as it was in the year 1837. We will then consider the place as it is to-day. In 1837 it is a quiet town with no industries except those created by the requirements of an agricultural centre. This not only causes a certain amount of activity and trade, but also gives rise to such industries as saddlery, farm implements, etc. The town consists chiefly of two or three streets running parallel, the larger and more important being the High Street. In the middle of the High Street is a square or place, where once a week is held a market, at which all kinds of things are exposed for sale, from poultry to shoe laces. A corn exchange, a branch bank, the town hall, one or two shops, and the principal inn, fill up the square. The inn boasts a large wooden porch, whose pillars are painted to resemble stone. A covered way leads to the stables and stableyard. Within, there is a hall, imperfectly lighted, in which one finds a fly-blown map of the country, a huge pike in a glass case, a stuffed otter, doors leading to the coffee-room and commercial room, a glass partition separating the bar-parlour, with the bar itself in front, and a broad, low staircase leading to the upper rooms. Here, on market day, the farmers hold their ordinary, with deep and long potations to follow. Here the lodge of Freemasons holds its monthly meetings in the winter, with a cheerful time of refreshment after labour. Here the county balls are held twice a year. There is a close, confirmed smell always lingering in the house; it suggests not so much beer and tobacco, which belong to a humbler house of entertainment, as hot brandy and water. The cold meats displayed under glass beside the bar look as if they were imbibing and assimilating that smell. If