I had not then read Mrs. Trollope's work on America, or I should
have comprehended at once the cause of her indignation; for she was
just such a person as would have drawn forth the keen satire of that
far-seeing observer of the absurdities of our nature, whose witty
exposure of American affectation has done more towards producing a
reform in that respect, than would have resulted from a thousand
grave animadversions soberly written.
Another of my self-constituted advisers informed me, with great
asperity in her look and tone, that "it would be better for me to
lay by the pen, and betake myself to some more useful employment;
that she thanked her God that she could make a shirt, and see to
the cleaning of her house!"
These remarks were perfectly gratuitous, and called forth by no
observation of mine; for I tried to conceal my blue stockings
beneath the long conventional robes of the tamest common-place,
hoping to cover the faintest tinge of the objectionable colour. I
had spoken to neither of these women in my life, and was much amused
by their remarks; particularly as I could both make a shirt, and
attend to the domestic arrangement of my family, as well as either
of them.
