“Cheer up, Deacon Slimpsey, you haint obleeged to marry her—it is a free country; folks haint obleeged to marry unless they are a mind to; it don’t take a brass band to make that legal.” I quoted these words in a light and joyous tone, hopin’ to rouse him from his despondancy—but in vain, for he only repeated in a gloomy tone: “She’ll get around me yet, Miss Allen, I feel it,” and as the shade deepened on his eyebrow, he said, “Have you seen her verses in the last week’s _Gimlet_?” “No,” says I, “I haint.” In a silent and hopeless way he took the paper out of his pocket, and handed it to me and I read as follows: A SONG Composed not for the strong-minded females, who madly and indecently insist on rights, but for the retiring and delicate-minded of the sect who modestly murmur “we wont have no rights—we scorn ’em;” will some modest and bashful sister set it to music, that we may timidly, but loudly warble it, and oblige hers till death in this glorious cause. BETSEY BOBBET. Not for strong minded wimmen Do I now tune my liar; Oh not for them would I kin- dle up the sacred fire; Oh modest bashful female For you I tune my lay; Although strong-minded wimmin sneer We’ll conquer in the fray. CHORUS—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, Press onward, do not fear, Remember womens spear, sisters, Remember womens spear. Twould cause some fun if poor Miss Wade, Should say of her boy Harry, “I shall not give him any trade, But bring him up to marry;” Twould cause some fun of course, dear maids, If Mrs. Wade’ses Harry, Should lose his end and aim in life, And find no chance to marry. CHORUS—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, etc. Yes, wedlock is our only hope, All o’er this mighty nation; Men are brought up to other trades, But this is our vocation. Oh not for sense or love ask we, We ask not to be courted;— Our watch-word is to married be, That we may be supported. CHORUS—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, etc. Say not you’r strong, and love to work, Are healthier than your brother, Who for a blacksmith is designed, Such feelings you must smother; Your restless hands fold up or gripe Your waist unto a span, And spend your strength in looking out To hail the coming man. CHORUS—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, etc. Oh do not be discouraged, when You find your hopes brought down; And find sad and unwilling men, Heed not their gloomy frown; Heed not their wild despaier We will not give no quarter; In battle all is fair We’ll win, for we had orter. CHORUS—Press onward, do not fear, sisters, Press onward, do not fear, Remember womens spear, sisters, Remember womens spear.