whose hands I
confide the reins and my bones with entire equanimity; and she says,
that, when she is driving, she dreads of all things to meet a driving
woman. If a man said this, it might be set down to prejudice. I don't
make any account of Halicarnassus's assertion, that, if two women
walking in the road on a muddy day meet a carriage, they never keep
together, but invariably one runs to the right and one to the left, so
that the driver cannot favor them at all, but has to crowd between
them, and drive both into the mud. That is palpably interested false
witness. He thinks it is fine fun to push women into the mud, and
frames such flimsy excuses. But as a woman's thoughts about women,
this woman's utterances are deserving of attention; and she says that
women are not to be depended upon. She is never sure that they will
not turn out on the wrong side. They are nervous; they are timid; they
are unreasoning; they are reckless. They will give a horse a
disconnected, an utterly inconsequent "cut," making him spring, to the
jeopardy of their own and others' safety. They are not concentrative,
and they are not infallibly courteous, as men are. I remember I was
driving with her once between Newburyport and Boston. It was getting
late, and we were very desirous to reach our destination before
nightfall. Ahead of us a woman and a girl were jogging along in a
country wagon. As we wished to go much faster than they, we turned
aside to pass them; but just as we were well abreast, the woman started
up her horse, and he skimmed over the ground like a bird. We laughed,
and followed, well content. But after he had gone perhaps an eighth of
a mile, his speed slackened down to the former jog-trot. Three times
we attempted to pass before we really comprehended the fact that that
infamous woman was deliberately detaining and annoying us. The third
time, when we had so nearly passed them that our horse was turning into
the road again, she struck hers up so suddenly and unexpectedly that
her wheels almost grazed ours. Of course, understanding her game, we
ceased the attempt, having no taste for horse-racing; and nearly all
the way from Newburyport to Rowley, she kept up that brigandry, jogging
on, and forcing us to jog on, neither going ahead herself nor suffering
us to do so,--a perfect and most provoking dog in a manger. Her
girl-associate would look behind every now and then to take
observations, and I mentally hoped th