But then there is no need of being so hard on these slight weaknesses of the poor, dear women as our little deformed gentleman was the other day.
-- There are no such women as the Boston women, Sir,--he said.

Forty-two degrees, north latitude, Rome, Sir, Boston, Sir! They had grand women in old Rome, Sir,--and the women bore such men--children as never the world saw before.

And so it was here, Sir.

I tell you, the revolution the Boston boys started had to run in woman's milk before it ran in man's blood, Sir! But confound the make-believe women we have turned loose in our streets!--where do they come from?
Not out of Boston parlors, I trust.
Why, there is n't a beast or a bird that would drag its tail through the dirt in the way these creatures do their dresses.

Because a queen or a duchess wears long robes on great occasions, a maid-of-all-work or a factory-girl thinks she must make herself a nuisance by trailing through the street, picking up and carrying about with her pah!--that's what I call getting vulgarity into your bones and marrow.