become acquainted with the metaphysical designs of those who condescended to sing the siren song of flattery.  This, we think, should be according to the unwritten law of decorum, which is stamped upon every innocent heart.  The precepts of prudery are often steeped in the guilt of contamination, which blasts the expectations of better moments.  Truth, and beautiful dreams—­loveliness, and delicacy of character, with cherished affections of the ideal woman —­gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold her in the storms of darkness, without the transferred colorings of a stained sufferer.  How often have we seen it in our public prints, that woman occupies a false station in the world! and some have gone so far as to say it was an unnatural one.  So long has she been regarded a weak creature, by the rabble and illiterate—­they have looked upon her as an insufficient actress on the great stage of human life—­a mere puppet, to fill up the drama of human existence—­a thoughtless, inactive being —­that she has too often come to the same conclusion herself, and has sometimes forgotten her high destination, in the meridian of her glory.  We have but little sympathy or patience for those who treat her as a mere Rosy Melindi—­who are always fishing for pretty complements —­who are satisfied by the gossamer of Romance, and who can be allured by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich in language, but poor and barren in sentiment.  Beset, as she has been, by the intellectual vulgar, the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden, and the artful—­no wonder she has sometimes folded her wings in despair, and forgotten her heavenly mission in the delirium of imagination; no wonder she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful home.  But this cannot always continue.  A new era is moving gently onward, old things are rapidly passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices, and old notions are now bidding farewell to their old associates and companions, and giving way to one whose wings are plumed with the light of heaven and tinged by the dews of the morning.  There is a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite of all evil influence, there is enough of the Divine Master left to accomplish the noblest work ever achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies; and that time is fast approaching, when the picture of the true woman will shine from its frame of glory, to captivate, to win back, to restore, and to call into being once more, the object of her mission.

     Star of the brave! thy glory shed,
     O’er all the earth, thy army led—­
     Bold meteor of immortal birth! 
     Why come from Heaven to dwell on Earth?