“These are so many words, my dear ma’am, and are totally without meaning, when thoroughly sifted. God created woman to be a help-meet to man—to comfort, solace, and aid him in his pursuit after worldly happiness; but always in a dependent relation. The marriage condition, viewed in its every-day aspect, has sufficient causes of disagreement, without drawing in this of property. One of the dearest and nearest of its ties, indeed, that of a perfect identification of interests, is at once cut off by this foolish, not to say wicked attempt to light the torch of contention in every household. It were better to teach our women not to throw themselves away on men who cannot be trusted; to inculcate the necessity of not marrying in haste to repent at leisure, than to tinker the old, venerable, and long-tried usages of our fathers, by crotchets that come far more from the feverish audacity of ignorance, than from philosophy or wisdom. Why, unless the courts interpose their prudence to rectify the blunders of the legislature, as they have already done a hundred times, the labourer’s wife may have her action against her husband for the earthen bowl he has broken; and the man may be sued by the wife for rent! The happiness of every home is hourly put in jeopardy, in order that, now and then, a wife may be saved from the courses of a speculator or a spendthrift.” “Might not this have been done before, uncle Tom, by means of settlements?” asked Anna, with interest. “Certainly; and that it is which renders all this silly quackery so much the worse. In those cases in which the magnitude of the stake might seem to demand extraordinary care, the means already existed for providing all useful safeguards; and any new legislation was quite unnecessary. This very law will produce twenty-fold more unhappiness in families, than it will prevent of misery, by setting up distinct, and often conflicting interests, among those who ought to live as ‘bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh.’” “You do not give to woman her proper place in society, Mr. Dunscomb,” returned Mary Monson, haughtily; “your comments are those of a bachelor. I have heard of a certain Miss Millington, who once had an interest with you, and who, if living, would have taught you juster sentiments on this subject.” Dunscomb turned as white as a sheet; his hand and lip quivered; and all desire to continue the discourse suddenly left him. The gentle Anna, ever attentive to his wishes and ailings, stole to his side, silently offering a glass of water. She had seen this agitation before, and knew there was a leaf in “Uncle Tom’s” history that he did not wish every vulgar eye to read.