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LADY GAY’S DISTRACTION.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,—­You are as fickle as the rest of your sex, I fear, otherwise you would not have requited my devotion to you and your interests in such an awful manner as you did in publishing my husband’s letter last week!—­and such a letter!  Oh, I could write such a scathing reply to it!

Of course, it was jealousy on the part of Sir CHARLES at my literary success—­(setting aside the wonderful tips)—­which caused the explosion that led to his writing to you, but I never—­never—­thought you would insert his letter, especially as I slipped in a postscript which to my mind explained everything—­as, indeed, postscripts should do, or what is the good of writing a long letter about nothing in front of them?  The wretch confesses that he laughed at my articles until he knew who wrote them, and then thought less of them!  Isn’t that like a husband?—­I won’t say like a man, as so few husbands are men!—­at least, in the eyes of their wives.  The moment a wife does something her husband can’t do, he dislikes and pooh-poohs it; whereas, the more accomplishments a husband displays, the more a wife appreciates him, or says so even if she doesn’t!—­which is a noble falsehood, for how few women are large-minded enough to pretend to admire qualities which they despise because they don’t possess them—­I’m not sure that this is what I mean, nor do I quite understand it, but it reads well, which is more than Sir CHARLES’S stuff does!

And then his impertinence in proposing to “edit” my letters!—­as if anyone could be more capable of doing that than you?—­(you will observe that it is solely on your account that I am annoyed!)—­I could not brook such interference!—­I don’t know exactly the meaning of “brooking” anything, but I know I wept enough tears of annoyance to form a decent “brook” of themselves!  I need hardly tell you that it was a biting sarcasm on my part to suggest that he should finish his letter with a “verse,” as I always do—­but there—­men don’t understand sarcasm—­(one of our most frequently employed weapons of offence!)—­and the poor thing thought I was in earnest, and did it!  And what a verse!  I could write better with my left hand!

I need scarcely tell you that I have left him—­(this is why my address is not to be published)—­as I consider my duty to the Public rendered it imperative that I should do so, for I should not think much of any woman who allowed a paltry consideration of domestic obligations to weigh against the pursuit of a career of usefulness.

If, therefore, a vein of sadness and cynicism runs through this letter, you will understand that it does not proceed from any regret at the “breaking up of the happy home,” but rather from sorrow at the thought that once again the intellectual superiority of one of the softer sex has not been accepted in the right spirit by the possessor of the weaker mind, to whom she owes obedience!