Says I, “It haint no such thing. Any man worth marryin’ would think as much again of a girl who had independence and common sense enough to earn her living, when her father was a poor man. Good land! how simple it is to try to deceive folks! Gauze veils, and bobinet lace, and cotton velvet cloaks haint a-goin’ to cover up the feet of poverty, if we be poor. Not a mite of disgrace in it. Poverty is the dark mine, where diamonds are found lots of times; by their glittering so bright against the blackness. The darkness of poverty can’t put out the light of a pure diamond. It will shine anywhere, as bright in the dark dirt as on a queen’s finger, for its light comes from within. And rare pearls are formed frequent, by the grindin’ touch of poverty, tears of pain, and privation, and patience crystalized into great white drops of light that will shine forever. Honest hard-working poverty is respectable as anything can be respectable, and should be honored, if for no other reason, for the sake of Him, who, eighteen hundred years ago, made it illustrious forever. But poverty tryin’ to hide itself behind the aperiences; poverty concealin’ itself under a sham gentility, pretentious, deceitful poverty, trying to cover an empty stomach with a tinsel breastpin, is a sight sad enough to make angels weep and sinners too. Let your girls learn some honest trade, Delila Ann.” “Oh, my! I wouldn’t let ’em lose their chance of bein’ married for nothin’ in the world.” “Good land!” says I, “is marryin’ the only theme that anybody can lay holt of?” Says I, “it seems to me it would be the best way to lay holt of duty now, and then, if a bo come, lay holt on him. If they ketch a bo with such a hook as they are a-fishing with now, what kind of a bo will it be? Nobody but a fool would lay holt of a hook baited with dime novels and pups. Learn your girls to be industrious, and to respect themselves. They can’t now, Delila Ann, I know they can’t. No woman can feel honorable and reverential toward themselves, when they are foldin’ their useless hands over their empty souls, waitin’ for some man, no matter who, to marry ’em and support ’em. When in the agony of suspense and fear, they have narrowed down to this one theme, all their hopes and prayers, ‘Good Lord; _anybody_!’ “But when a woman lays holt of life in a noble, earnest way, when she is dutiful, and cheerful, and industrious, God-fearin’, and self-respectin’, though the world sinks, there is a rock under her feet that won’t let her down far enough to hurt her any. If love comes to her to brighten her pathway, so much the better. She will be ready to receive him royally, and keep him when she gets him. Some folks don’t know how to use love worth a cent. But no matter whether she be single or double, I am not afraid of her future.” “Oh, my!” says Delila Ann, again, “I wouldn’t have my girls miss of marryin’ for nothin.’ Nothin’ in the world looks so lonesome as a woman that haint married.”