equality of the law, women goe doune still,
and many graines allowance will not make
the ballance hang even. A poor woman
shall have but the third part of her
husband's lands when he is dead, for all
the service she did him when during the
accouplement (perhaps a long time and a
tedious), and if she be extravagant with a
friend—as dame Anne—that is an elopement,
and a forfeiture, &c. But as the
saying is, men are happy by the masse,
they may goe where they list I warrant ye,
and because they are enforced to travel in
the world they will pay dear abroad for
that which they esteem of no value at
home. They may lope over ditch and dale,
a thousand out-ridings and out-biddings is
no forfeiture, but as soon as the good wife
is gone the bad man will have her land,
not the third, but every foot of it."

A husband having a notable grudge
against his wife had but to embark in some
treasonable enterprise to cheat her of her
dower. It was supposed that by attainting
wife and children, men, who would not
refrain from crimes for themselves, would
refrain for the sake of those near and dear
to them; but experience does not show
that the family instinct has always been
strong enough to restrain from acts of
felony; and indeed, as has been just quoted,
when a man hated his wife, and wished to
deprive her of her dower, it was as good
a way as any. And as no woman must
betray her husband, she had to stand by
and see the mischief go on unhindered, and
her dower lost for her husband's folly.

A widow is likened to a four-legged
beast which falls in halves, the one half
stark dead, the other half standing still
upright; "senting, seeing, feeling, gazing,
and wonderfully astonished;" also to an
elephant which hath lost its head. But
there is comfort for the headless
elephant. From having been so long in
subjection, and under the rule of another,
she is now free and in liberty, and with
power to enjoy her own. And then come
instructions how she is to proceed as
administrator, taking care among other things
that she take not excessive apparel, and
demands nothing she may not have.

One more extract and we have done.
This time it refers to a widow's marrying
again, and it is such a picture that it might
have been written in the Spectator in one
of Addison's happiest veins.

"The widdowe married again to her owne
great liking, though not with applause of
most friends and acquaintances. But alas
what would they have her to have done; she
was faire, young, rich, gracious in her
carriage, and so well became her mourning
apparrel, that when she went to church on
Sundayes, the casements opened of their
owne accord on both sides the streets, that
bachelours and widdowers might behold
her. Her man at home kissed her pantables
and served diligently; her late husband's
physitian came and visited her often; the
lawyer to whom she went to for councell
took opportunity to advise for himself; if she
went to any feast there was ever one guest,
sometimes two or three, the more for her
sake; if she were at home, suitors overtook
one another, and sometimes the first
commer would answer the next that she was
not within. All day she was troubled with
answering petitions. And at night, when
she would go to rest, her maid Marion was
become a mistress of requests and humble
supplications. This kind of life the widdowe
liked not; I aske again what she would
have done; he to whom she gave a denial
would not take it; if she denied him twice
hee said two negatives made an affirmative,
and hee challenged promise; therefore
to set men's heart and her own at
rest, shee chose amongst them not one of
the long robe, not a man macerate and
dryed up with study, but a gallant gulburd
lad, that might well be worthy of her, had
he beene as thrifty, as kind hearted, or
half so wise, as hardy and adventurous.
This youth within less than a yeare had set
the nuncios his predecessor kept in prison
at liberty round about the country, the
bags were all empty, the plate was all at
pawne, all to keep the square bones in
their amble, and to relieve companions;
one of which, notwithstanding, that had
cost him many a pound for none other
quarrell but vous mentes, challenged him
one day into the field, which was appointed,
and there my new married man was slaine.
Now his wife will bring her appeale."

Since the year 1622, when this curious
black-letter book was published, what a
change! No longer content with the declaration
that they have no voice in parliament,
that they make no laws, consent to
none, interpret none, and abrogate none,
women are now buzzing about the ears of
revising barristers, trying by any methods
practicable to step into the crowd of voters
qualified to send members to parliament.
Times change, and we change with them.
In olden days, a woman was nothing
if not a wife. She derived all her honour
from her husband, who might chastise her