ified, for as it slowly went up, and up the soft expression
of those chiselled features, the delicate curves and outlines of
the limbs and figure, became gradually fainter and fainter, and
when at last it readied the place for which it was intended, it
was a shapeless ball, enveloped in mist. Of course, the idol of
the hour was now clamored down as rationally as it had been cried
up, and its dishonored rival, with no good will and no good looks
on the part of the chagrined populace, was reared in its stead.
As it ascended, the sharp angles faded away, the rough points
became smooth, the features full of expression, the whole figure
radiant with majesty and beauty. The rude hewn mass, that before
had scarcely appeared to bear even the human form, assumed at
once the divinity which it represented, being so perfectly
proportioned to the dimensions of the building, and to the
elevation on which it stood, that it seemed as though Pallas
herself had alighted upon the pinnacle of the temple in person,
to receive the homage of her worshippers.

The woman of the nineteenth century is the shapeless ball in the
lofty position which she was designed fully and nobly to fill.
The place is not too high, too large, too sacred for woman, but
the type that you have chosen is far too small for it. The woman
we declare unto you is the rude, misshapen, unpolished object of
the successful artist. From your stand-point, you are absorbed
with the defects alone. The true artist sees the harmony between
the object and its destination. Man, the sculptor, has carved out
his ideal, and applauding thousands welcome his success. He has
made a woman that from his low stand-point looks fair and
beautiful, a being without rights, or hopes, or fears but in
him--neither noble, virtuous, nor independent. Where do we see,
in Church or State, in school-house or at the fireside, the much
talked-of moral power of woman? Like those Athenians, we have
bowed down and worshiped in woman, beauty, grace, the exquisite
proportions, the soft and beautifully rounded outline, her
delicacy, refinement, and silent helplessness--all well when she
is viewed simply as an object of sight, never to rise one foot
above the dust from which she sprung. But if she is to be raised
up to adorn a temple, or