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 <p> The lines of distinction, on account of&nbsp;<em>external condition</em>, are more clearly drawn in reference to women than  men, and they are also much more difficult to pass. A poor young girl, without  the advantages of education, finds it very difficult to rise above her original  condition — while lads in the same circumstances, if they possess quickness and  intelligence, are almost sure, when they become men, to take a higher place in  society, than they seemed at first destined to occupy.<br><br>
  Not one cause alone — but many causes combined, go to produce this  result. There is much of actual disability to rise far above her condition,  which tends to keep a young girl down, resulting from lack of education,  refined and intelligent companionship, and the almost invariable necessity for  constant and wearying labor with her hands. These all unite to hinder mental  improvement, a cultivation of the taste, refinement of manner, and the  attainment of those accomplishments so indispensable to a woman, and without  which a poor girl cannot rise above her first estate in life. But all these  combined need not hinder her elevation if she will but look up, and strive  after the attainment of real virtue, intelligence, and grace of mind and body.  It is not so much the condition into which a young woman is&nbsp;<em>born</em>, which excludes her from familiar fellowship with the intelligent and  refined of her own and the other gender — as it is her lack of that  intelligence and refinement which is in itself the social bond of union among  them. Pride in those above her is not so strong to keep her down, as  disabilities and unfitness's in herself. These, at first, are her&nbsp;<em>misfortunes</em>; but, afterwards, they may become her&nbsp;<em>faults</em>.<br><br>
  The mere introduction of one, born and educated in a low condition in  life, into the society of those who are born into, or have been elevated into,  a higher, more intelligent, and refined condition — would be rather an injury  than a benefit,&nbsp;<em>if</em><em>&nbsp;</em>she were not at the same time gifted with some portion of a  corresponding intelligence and refinement. She could neither give nor receive  anything — could add nothing to the general good and general enjoyment, nor  receive any genuine good or true enjoyment in return. The wish to be thus  introduced into refined society, without the requisite qualifications for such  an introduction, has its origin in&nbsp;<em>pride</em>&nbsp;— as much as the wish to keep out from the benefits of refined society,  those who are in an humble condition, because they are poor and humble, has its  origin in pride. Among the poor, uneducated, and humble, there exists the same  natural ability to be refined and intelligent, as among those born to a better  condition: the difference lies in the&nbsp;<em>difference of means</em><em>&nbsp;</em>available to each, arising from the peculiarity of external  circumstances.<br><br>
  While it is possible for a poor, uneducated girl to become a  highly-accomplished and intelligent woman, yet, from the very nature of the  disabilities surrounding her, this is a very difficult matter, and a thing but  rarely attained. The chief end we have in view in particularly introducing this  subject now, is to show that a certain degree of intelligence and refinement,  while it adds to the happiness and means of doing good — is attainable by all,  no matter how low their original condition, and should be striven after by all.<br><br>
  The influence of an ignorant, vulgar-minded woman is necessarily bad,  whether it is felt by her companions, relatives, husband, or children. As a&nbsp;<em>maiden</em>, she inspires no virtuous resolves in those with whom she associates.  As a&nbsp;<em>wife</em>, she does not elevate the mind of her  husband, and make him love what is really excellent, because personified in her.  As a&nbsp;<em>mother</em>, she does not  implant in the minds of her children that love of truth by which, in after  life, they may be raised from the baseness and disorder of their natural  condition. From this simple fact, it is at once seen, that upon the elevation of  woman, depends the elevation of the lower classes of society. Everyone should  bear this in mind, and especially woman herself — woman in a humble as well as  in a high condition.<br><br>
  A young girl who is poor, and unblessed by the advantages of a good  education — will find little to awaken a desire for improvement, refinement,  and self-elevation. Nearly all that surrounds her, tends to hold her just where  she is. Obeying the social law of her being, she seeks companions; and these  are young people of her own age, and in a like condition. Too rarely does she  find among them a desire for self-improvement, and too often a love of what is  base and vulgar. The time she passes with them is frequently spent in the most  senseless frivolities, or in conversation about dress and beaux, and such  matters as tend to give false views of life, and excite the lowest passions. Of  the&nbsp;<em>excellence of virtue</em>, the&nbsp;<em>love of being useful</em><em>&nbsp;</em>to others, the&nbsp;<em>beauty of a modest deportment</em>&nbsp;— she hears little,  if anything at all, in this thoughtless circle. There is little to elevate her,  little to awaken in her mind an earnest aspiration after the truly good and  beautiful; but everything to hold her where she is, or to drag her down lower.<br><br>
  Everyone thus situated, however, who really desires to elevate herself  above the low position in which she finds herself placed, will always meet with  some one or more among her associates of a better class than the rest. If she  makes these, rather than the others, her companions — she will find much to  aid, encourage, and strengthen her. Once in the upward movement, and  self-elevation will be, comparatively, an easy thing.<br><br>
  To sketch briefly the&nbsp;<em>history</em><em>&nbsp;</em>of one thus situated, and to show how she elevated herself, will make a  stronger impression upon the mind than any mere&nbsp;<em>declaration</em><em>&nbsp;</em>of the means by which  such an elevation is to be gained. This we shall attempt to do.<br><br>
  <em>Ann</em><em> Liston</em><em>&nbsp;</em>was the daughter of a poor mechanic, who had a large family and a small  income. The father was industrious, and so was his wife; but the income was so  small, and the needs so many, that, with all their industry and efforts to  save, they could not get ahead. As soon as Ann  was old enough to do anything useful, she was under the necessity of assisting  her mother. She was not over nine years of age when first obliged to work about  the house, or to nurse the baby. But she was handy and willing, and this made  her very useful to her mother, notwithstanding she was so young. The condition  of Ann necessarily excluded her from  the advantages of a good education. She went to school only a few quarters, and  merely learned to read and to write a little, besides gaining some small  acquaintance with numbers. There was nothing at home to excite a taste for  reading, and few books within her reach to gratify that taste, had it been  excited. The whole family library consisted of the Bible, Prayer Book,  Pilgrim's Progress, and one or two old books of history and travel. The father  was not a reading man, nor was the mother at all inclined to books. But both  were members of the church, and on Sunday read their Bible, and regularly  attended worship with their children, teaching them to fear God and reverence  sacred things.<br><br>
  At the age of fourteen, Ann  went from home to learn the trade of&nbsp;<em>dress-making</em>. Up to this period,  her home duties had been so constant and engrossing, as to allow her but little  time to mingle with young girls of her own age and condition. Her habits,  feelings, and tastes were not, as may be supposed, at all refined, nor was  there more than a rough polish to her manners. Five years of pretty constant  and pretty hard labor about the house, had taken from her limbs and movements  the natural grace of childhood, and left her somewhat clumsy and awkward. To  counterbalance these defects of habit and education, Ann  had an honest mind, and possessed a natural independence of thought and action,  with some shrewdness, and a good deal of common sense. Thus furnished, she left  her father's house, and went forth to gain an independent livelihood in the  world.<br><br>
  Her first experiences were rather painful. She found herself in the  midst of some ten or fifteen young girls, from her own age up to twenty, all  engaged, like herself, in acquiring a knowledge of the business she had come to  learn. Some of these, who had been blessed with advantages greater than hers,  or who had seen more of the world, were not backward in ridiculing the  unpolished girl for her defects of speech, dress, and manner. Ann was&nbsp;<em>sensitive</em>, and these things  hurt her; but the result was good, for it caused her to think of the defects  pointed out so rudely, and to make an effort to correct them. It likewise  caused her to be retiring and observant — to think of her words, her manners,  and her conduct.<br><br>
  Many months did not pass, before there was a change in her external  appearance, and in her manners, that was very apparent — a change that had been  so gradual as not to attract sudden attention. She had also learned to&nbsp;<em>think</em>, and to contrast the good principles she had been taught at home — with  what she saw and heard. Early impressed with a regard for the truth, to her  great surprise she too often found it violated by those around her; and she was  no less surprised to find in many of the young girls in the work-room, a total  disregard to the interests of the person with whom they were learning their  trade.<br><br>
  Among her fellow-apprentices was one named&nbsp;<em>Florence</em>, to whom Ann early attached herself. She was the daughter of a  widow, suddenly reduced from comfortable to needy circumstances, and was  acquiring a knowledge of dress-making as a means of adding to their small and  insufficient income. This girl had received an excellent education, and had  moved in very good society. She was intelligent, polished in her manners, and  possessed a finely-cultivated taste. The loss of friends, and a change in  external circumstances, had subdued her whole character, and made her  thoughtful. There was something about Ann,  that caused her to respect the poor girl. Instead of<em> ridiculing</em><em>&nbsp;</em>her for her deficiencies, she gently sought to&nbsp;<em>correct</em><em>&nbsp;</em>them. This evidence  of good-will touched the feelings of Ann,  who hearkened to all her suggestions, and sought to correct every little defect  of manner, or roughness of speech, that was kindly pointed out to her.<br><br>
  The ease, grace, and womanly dignity of Florence were beautiful in the eyes of the  humble-minded girl. She saw in them something really true and excellent, when  contrasted with the crudeness and bold vulgarity of others in the work-room.  Her&nbsp;<em>whole character</em><em>&nbsp;</em>was a model of excellence in her eyes — a standard of emulation.<br><br>
  We first begin to rise towards excellence of any kind — when we first  begin to admire and love it. So it was with Ann Liston.  She no sooner began to admire and love the whole character of Florence, than she began to form her own  character, as far as she could do so, after a like model. In her leisure  moments, she read such books as were placed in her hands by Florence. These were not the popular and  exciting novels of the day, that were read by too many of her young companions;  but books that made her think truly of life, and her own duties and  responsibilities.<br><br>
  By the time Ann had finished  learning her trade, she was very much changed for the better. The whole  expression of her&nbsp;<em>face</em><em>&nbsp;</em>was altered. Her&nbsp;<em>step</em><em>&nbsp;</em>was more graceful, her<em> speech</em><em>&nbsp;</em>more polished, and her&nbsp;<em>mind</em><em>&nbsp;</em>more enlightened. Contrasted with several of those who had ridiculed her  for her deficiencies, when she first left her home — the difference was quite  as strong as before; but now it was in her favour. The achievement of this much  was not without passing through many temptations from some of the vulgar,  low-minded girls around her. Several of these had their beaux, whom they used  frequently to meet and walk with in the evening; and they often persuaded Ann to join them. Once or twice she did do so; but  the young men she met were even more vulgar minded than her companions, who  were, as it seemed to her, most unblushingly familiar with the young men.  Shocked and disgusted with all this, she ventured no more into such company,  contenting herself with reading alone, when not at work, or in congenial  fellowship with Florence, and one or two others more like her than the rest.<br><br>
  After having learned her trade, the next business of Ann was to go out and sew for her living. Modest in  her deportment, quiet, and what might now be called lady-like in her manners,  industrious and capable — Ann soon had as much, and more than she could do in  families of good standing, in all of which she was respected and treated as she  deserved. She continued in this capacity for about three years, during which  time both mind and person steadily improved, until she became a really  interesting and quite intelligent young woman. But, withal, she was exceedingly  modest and retiring.<br><br>
  A very fine young man, a clerk in the store of the husband of one of the  ladies for whom she worked, had noticed Ann  for more than a year. Her appearance, manner, and conversation, whenever he did  hear her speak, which was seldom, pleased him very much. At last, encouraged by  the lady just alluded to, who spoke in the highest praise of Ann, he formally  addressed her, and was, after a time, fortunate enough to gain her consent to  be married. She made him a&nbsp;<em>frugal, industrious</em><em>&nbsp;</em>wife, and an excellent companion. About five years afterwards, he went  into business on a small capital, which they had saved from his salary, and was  quite successful. He did not become, it is true, a very rich man, nor his wife  a&nbsp;<em>great lady;</em><em>&nbsp;</em>but they were in good circumstances, and able to give their children every  advantage of education, and the means of usefulness and advancement in the  world.<br><br>
  Out of ten young girls in the work-room where Ann  learned her trade, all with no better advantages than she had possessed, seven  married men of base minds and vulgar habits, and never rose above their  original condition. Two were more like Ann,  and they were sought by young men of a better class. One of them did not marry  at all.<br><br>
  No matter how many and great may be the disadvantages under which a  young girl may labor — she may yet rise, if she will, very much above the  external condition from which she started in life. And in proportion as she  thus rises, will she find a higher degree of happiness, and be able to do far  more good than otherwise would be possible to her.<br><br>
  Everything that tends to elevate the lower classes of the community  above what is crude, ignorant, and vulgar, adds to their happiness, because it  makes them better and wiser; but this crudeness, ignorance, and vulgarity will  prevail just so long as woman is kept down by the pressure of circumstances;  for, in her influence upon the other gender — but mainly upon her children,  lies the<em>&nbsp;</em><em>all-potent principle  of social reformation</em>. Let every young woman, if her lot is humble, and her advantages few,  remember that she has a duty to perform to society as well as herself, and  wisely seek to fulfil the obligations which rest upon her. At the same time,  every young woman, who is blessed with the superior advantages of education and  refinement, should as earnestly seek to lift up those below her, and inspire  them with a love of what is useful, refined, and truly good.<br><br>
  Those whose external condition is very different from what we have been  describing, who are blessed with all the comforts, luxuries, and advantages  attainable by wealth — are in some danger of entertaining false notions in  regard to themselves, and of valuing themselves more on account of their&nbsp;<em>exterior condition</em><em>&nbsp;</em>in life — than for  the&nbsp;<em>virtues</em> they possess. This  is of course a false evaluation; and whoever makes it commits an error that  will lead to unhappiness sooner or later.<br><br>
Wealth affords great&nbsp;<em>advantages</em>&nbsp;— but it makes no one any the&nbsp;<em>better</em>. Gold never  purchases&nbsp;<em>virtue</em><em>&nbsp;</em>nor excellence of character; it is possessed alike by the good and the  bad; and whoever values himself, as a man, on account of his wealth, shows  himself to be a very weak man. A young girl, who has all the advantages that  wealth affords, will be very apt to feel that she is&nbsp;<em>superior</em><em>&nbsp;</em>to those in a lower  condition, simply because she is surrounded with more of the&nbsp;<em>elegances of life</em><em>&nbsp;</em>than they are, and  moves in what is called a&nbsp;<em>higher circle</em>. But this feeling  she should strive against as ignoble; for what have the&nbsp;<em>elegances of life</em><em>&nbsp;</em>with which others  have surrounded her, and the circle of friends into which a happy concurrence  of circumstances has introduced her, to do with her&nbsp;<em>real worth?</em><em>&nbsp;</em>Nothing whatever! One  far below her in the reception and enjoyment of these external blessings, may  really be far above her in all that goes to make up the true woman. Let her,  then, make&nbsp;<em>virtue</em><em>&nbsp;</em>the standard of excellence, and let her seek to do some good with the  ability and superior advantages that God has given her, instead of sitting idly  down in the vain imagination of her own superiority!</p>
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