le child.' But it is not only
the satisfaction of a duty performed that makes that woman look so
happy, it is also the pleasure she derives from it. And the odds are ten
to one that this very woman will play at doll with her child a great
deal too long, and that the day on which she will be compelled to allow
the child to have some liberty and become independent of her, she will
resent it.

There is not, I believe, a single elderly woman that does not prefer the
child of her daughter to her daughter herself, who has become now an
unmanageable doll who dresses and undresses without the help of anybody.
And if this daughter does not allow her mother to do with the grandchild
just as she likes, there will be trouble, caused by jealousy. There will
be two women now to play at dolls. Why does a grandmother indulge a
young child, give it sweets and candies? Is it to give that child a good
digestion? No; it is to play at dolls. Do they dress little girls like
the 'principal boys' of pantomimes in the palace scene, in order to make
them acquire modest tastes and sensible notions? No; it is to play at
dolls.

Woman plays at dolls to the end of her life, with her toys, with her
children, with her grandchildren, and with herself.

I have never heard women have a good word to say of daughters-in-law who
had not given children to their sons. Poor, dear old ladies! They
certainly were under the impression that their sons had only one object
in view when they contemplated matrimony, that of presenting 'Grannie'
with dolls to play with. I quite understand that grandmothers should be
admired, that children should bless them, and even advise other children
to 'get some,' when they have not got any, but I do not think that
grandmothers should be held up to the world as models, because more than
nine times out of ten they spoil children, and derive pleasure not from
duties performed to the child, but from the satisfaction of playing at
dolls. I have very often met sensible mothers, but grandmothers seldom;
they generally are incorrigible sinners--and proud of it, too.

Alphonse Karr, in his 'Reminiscences,' relates how he used to meet in
society a young and charming woman who always behaved towards him in a
very cool manner. Unable to understand the reason, he one day took a
chair by her side, made himself particularly pleasant, and point-blank
asked her why she did not seem pleased to meet him, and inquired whether
he might have uncon