rld of man and things which impels a provident regard
for it. Suns, winds, frosts, storms, time, diseases, and death pay no
deferential respect to it. Man respects it, bows to it, but while he
does it, it withers under his devotion, so little does he mingle wisdom
and care in his regard. Society professes to respect it, and so it does,
but it subjects it to so many untimely trials and injurious customs,
that that very respect is fearful. A young girl, fresh from childhood,
blossoming into a woman, rosy health in her veins, innocence in her
heart, caroling gaiety in her laugh, buoyant life in her step, the rich
glance of an opening soul in her eye, grace in her form with the casket
of mind richly jeweled, is indeed an object of beauty. He who can behold
it and not feel a benevolent interest in it, is an object of pity. He
who can live and not live in part for Girlhood, is devoid of the highest
order of feeling. He who can see it wither under unrighteous customs or
pass away by the blight of unholy abuses, and not drop a tear of
sympathy, is less than a generous man. He who sees its perilous position
and lifts not his warning voice, fails in a great duty. It is not enough
to admire Girlhood; it is not enough to do it graceful honors, make it
obsequious bows, strew its pathway with flattering compliments, and call
it by all beautiful names. Such outward expressions, unless most
judiciously made, are quite as likely to do it injury as direct abuse.
Girlhood is full of tenderness and weakness. The germs of its future
strength are its most perilous weaknesses now. Its mightiest energies
often kindle the fires of its ruin. Its most salient points of character
are often soonest invaded. Indeed, it can scarcely be said to have a
character. It is forming one, but knows not yet what it will be. Its
interior now is not exactly a chaos, but a beautiful disorder. The
elements of something grand are there, but they are not yet polished nor
put together, nor compactly cemented. This work is yet to be done. It is
the great work of Girlhood. It is the moral art to which it is to apply
all its ingenuity and energy. Girlhood is not all a holiday season; it
is more a working time, a study hour, an apprenticeship. True, it has
buoyant spirits, and should let them out with fresh good-will at proper
times. It has its playful moods, which should not only be indulged but
encouraged, but not wholly for the sake of the momentary enjoyment, but
rathe