There are the miserly woman, who look after cheese-parings and candle-ends, and lock up the soap.

There are the spiteful women whose very breath is acidity and venom.

There are the frivolous women whose chitter-chatter and senseless giggle are as empty as the rattling of dry peas on a drum.

In fact, the delicacy of women is extremely overrated--their coarseness is never done full justice to.

I have heard them recite in public selections of a kind that no man would dare to undertake--such as Tennyson's 'Rizpah,' for instance.