face that she intended to be seated and to be heard. She made a speech,
moved many of the planters so greatly that they were ready to grant her
the right; she cowed the very acting governor himself, as he sat on the
speaker's bench. But that governor's very fear of her rivalry made him,
for once, active and determined; he had heard whispers throughout the
colony that she would make a better executive than he; he suddenly
thundered a decisive "No"; a brief recess was declared amidst the
ensuing confusion; and Margaret Brent went forth for the first time in
her life a defeated woman. Her power, however, was scarcely lessened,
and her influence grew to such an extent that on several occasions the
governor who had refused her a vote was obliged to humiliate himself and
beg her aid in quieting or convincing the citizens. The story of her
life leads one to believe that many women, if opportunity had offered,
would have proved themselves just as capable in business affairs as any
woman executive of our own times.

Many another example of feminine initiative might be cited. There was
that serious, yet ridiculous scene of long ago when the women of Boston
pinned up their dresses, took off their shoes, and waded about in the
mud and slush fortifying Boston Neck. Benjamin Tompson, a local poet,
found the incident a source of merriment in his _New England Crisis_,
1675; but in a way it was a stern rebuke to the men who looked on and
laughed at the women's frantic effort to wield mud plaster.

"A grand attempt some Amazonian Dames
Contrive whereby to glorify their names.
A ruff for Boston Neck of mud and turfe,
Reaching from side to side, from surf to surf,
Their nimble hands spin up like Christmas pyes,
Their pastry by degrees on high doth rise ...
The wheel at home counts in an holiday,
Since while the mistress worketh it may play.
A tribe of female hands, but manly hearts,
Forsake at home their pastry crust and tarts,
To kneed the dirt, the samplers down they hurl,
Their undulating silks they closely furl.
The pick-axe one as a commandress holds,
While t'other at her awk'ness gently scolds.
One puffs and sweats, the other mutters why
Can't you promove your work so fast as I?
Some dig, some delve, and others' hands do feel
The little wagon's weight with single wheel.
And lest some fainting-fits the weak surprize,
They want no sack nor cakes, they are more wise..."

That simple-hearted, kindly French-American, St. John de Crevecoeur, has
left us a description of the women of Nantucket in his _Letters from an
American Farmer_, 1782, and if his account is trustworthy these women
displayed business capacity that might put to shame many a modern wife.
Hear some extracts from his statement:

"As the sea excursions are often very long, their wives in their
absence are necessarily obliged to transact business, to settle
accounts, and, in short, to rule and provide for their families.
These circumstances, being often repeated, give women the
abilities as well as a taste for that kind of superintendency to
which, by their prudence and good management, they seem to be in
general very equal. This employment ripens their judgment, and
justly entitles them to a rank superior to that of other wives;
... The men at their return, weary with the fatigues of the sea,
... cheerfully give their consent to every transaction that has
happened during their absence, and all is joy and peace. 'Wife,
thee hast done well,' is the general approbation they receive,
for their application and industry...."

"...But you must not imagine from this account that the Nantucket
wives are turbulent, of high temper, and difficult to be ruled;
on the contrary, the wives of Sherburn, in so doing, comply only
with the prevailing custom of the island: the husbands, equally
submissive to the ancient and respectable manners of their
country, submit, without ever suspecting that there can be any
impropriety.... The richest person now in the island owes all his
present prosperity and success to the ingenuity of his wife: ...
for while he was performing his first cruises, she traded with
pins and needles, and kept a school. Afterward she purchased more
considerable articles, which she sold with so much judgment, that
she laid the foundation of a system of business, that she has
ever since prosecuted with equal dexterity and success...."


_IV. Patriotic Initiative and Courage_

It was in the dark days of the Revolution that these stronger qualities
of the feminine soul shone forth, and served most happily the struggling
nation. Long years of Indian warfare and battling against a stubborn
wilderness had strengthened the spirit of the American woman, and when
the men marched away to defend the land their undaunted wives and
daughters bravely took up the masculine labors, tilling and reaping,
directing the slaves, maintaining ship and factory, and supplying the
armies with the necessities of life. The letters written by the women in
that period reveal an intelligent grasp of affairs and a strength of
spirit altogether admirable. Here was indeed a charming mingling of
feminine grace, tenderness, sympathy, self-reliance, and common sense.

It required genuine courage to remain at home, often with no masculine
protection whatever, with the ever-present danger of Indian raids, and
there, with the little ones, wait and wait, hearing news only at long
intervals, fearing even to receive it then lest it announce the death of
the loved ones. No telegraph, no railroad, no postal service, no
newspaper might offer relief, only the letter brought by some friend, or
the bit of news told by some passing traveller. It was a time of
agonizing anxiety. There were months when the wife heard nothing; we
have seen from the letters of Mrs. Adams that three months sometimes
intervened between the letters from her husband. In 1774, when John
Adams was at Philadelphia, such a short distance from Boston, according
to the modern conception, she wrote: "Five weeks have passed and not one
line have I received. I would rather give a dollar for a letter by the
post, though the consequences should be that I ate but one meal a day
these three weeks to come."[305]

Again, these women faced actual dangers; for they were often near the
firing line. John Quincy Adams says of his mother: "For the space of
twelve months my mother with her infant children dwelt, liable every
hour of the day and the night to be butchered in cold blood, or taken
and carried into Boston as hostages. My mother lived in unintermitted
danger of being consumed with them all in a conflagration kindled by a
torch in the same hands which on the 17th of June [1775] lighted the
fires of Charlestown. I saw with my own eyes those fires, and heard
Britannia's thunders in the Battle of Bunker Hill, and witnessed the
tears of my mother and mingled them with my own."

In 1777, so anxious was the mother for news of her husband, that John
Quincy became post-rider for her between Braintree and Boston, eleven
miles,--not a light or easy task for the nine-year-old boy, with the
unsettled roads and unsettled times. Even the President's wife was for
weeks at a time in imminent peril; for the British could have desired
nothing better than to capture and hold as a hostage the wife of the
chief rebel. Washington himself was exceedingly anxious about her, and
made frequent inquiry as to her welfare. She, however, went about her
daily duties with the utmost calmness and in the hours of gravest danger
showed almost a stubborn disregard of the perils about her.
Washington's friend, Mason, wrote to him: "I sent my family many miles
back in the country, and advised Mrs. Washington to do likewise, as a
prudential movement. At first she said 'No; I will not desert my post';
but she finally did so with reluctance, rode only a few miles, and,
plucky little woman as she is, stayed away only one night."[306]

During the first years of the war nervous dread may have composed the
greater part of the suffering of American women, but during the later
years genuine hardships, lack of food and clothing, physical
catastrophes befell these brave but silent helpers of the patriots.
Especially was this true in the South, where the British overran the
country, destroyed homes, seized food, cattle, and horses, and left
devastation to mark the trail. In 1779 Mrs. Pinckney's son wrote her
that Provost, the British leader, had destroyed the plantation home
where the family treasure had been stored, and that everything had been
burned or stolen; but her reply had no wail of despair in it: "My Dear
Tomm: I have just received your letter with the account of my losses,
and your almost ruined fortunes by the enemy. A severe blow! but I feel
not for myself, but for you.... Your Brother's timely generous offer, to
divide what little remains to him among us, is worthy of him...."[307]

The financial distress of Mrs. Pinckney might be cited as typical of the
fate of many aristocratic and wealthy families of Virginia and South
Carolina. Owner of many thousands of acres and a multitude of slaves,
she was reduced to such straits that she could not meet ordinary debts.
Shortly after the Revolution she wrote in reply to a request for payment
of such a bill: "I am sorry I am under a necessity to send this
unaccompanied with the amount of my account due to you. It may seem
strange that a single woman, accused of no crime, who had a fortune to
live genteely in any part of the world, that fortune too in different
kinds of property, and in four or five different parts of the country,
should be in so short a time so entirely deprived of it as not to be
able to pay a debt under 60 pound sterling, but such is my singular
case. After the many losses I have met with for the last three or four
desolating years from fire and plunder, both in country and town, I
still had some thing to subsist upon, but alas the hand of power has
deprived me of the greatest part of that, and accident of the
rest."[308]

It was indeed a day that called for the strongest type of courage, and
nobly did the women face the crisis. In the South the wives and
daughters of patriots were forced to appear at balls given by the
invading forces, to entertain British officers, to act as hostesses to
unbidden guests, and to act the part pleasantly, lest the unscrupulous
enemy wreak vengeance upon them and their possessions. The constant
search on the part of the British for refugees brought these women
moments when fear or even a second's hesitation would have proved
disastrous. One evening Marion, the famous "Swamp-Fox," came worn out to
the home of Mrs. Horry, daughter of Eliza Pinckney, and so completely
exhausted was he that he fell asleep in his chair while she was
preparing him a meal. Suddenly she heard the approaching British. She
awakened him, told him to follow the path from her kitchen door to the
river, swim to an island, and leave her to deceive the soldiers. She
then met at the front door the British officer Tarleton, who leisurely
searched the house, ate the supper prepared for Marion, and went away
with several of the family treasures and heirlooms. On another occasion
when Mrs. Pinckney and her grand-daughter were sleeping in their
plantation home, distant from any neighbor, they were awakened by a
beautiful girl who rushed into the bedroom, crying, "Oh, Mrs. Pinckney,
save me! The British are coming after me." With the utmost calmness
the old lady arose from her bed, placed the girl in her place, and
commanded, "Lie there, and no man will dare to trouble you." She then
met the pursuers with such quiet scorn that they shrank away into the
darkness.

What brave stories could be told of other women--Molly Stark, Temperance
Wicke, and a host of others. What man, soldier or statesman, could have
written more courageous words than these by Abigail Adams? "All domestic
pleasures and enjoyments are absorbed in the great and important duty
you owe your country, for our country is, as it were, a secondary god,
and the first and greatest parent. It is to be preferred to parents,
wives, children, friends and all things, the gods only excepted, for if
our country perishes, it is as impossible to save the individual, as to
preserve one of the fingers of a mortified hand."[309] Mrs. Adams
herself was literally in the midst of the warfare, and there were days
when she could scarcely have faced more danger if she had been a soldier
in the battle. Hear this bit of description from her own pen: "I went to
bed about twelve, and rose again a little after one. I could no more
sleep than if I had been in the engagement; the rattling of the windows,
the jar of the house, the continual roar of twenty-four pounders; and
the bursting of shells give us such ideas, and realize a scene to us of
which we could form scarcely any conception."[310]

Who can estimate the quiet aid such women gave the patriots in those
years of sore trial? Such words as Martha Washington's: "I hope you will
all stand firm; I know George will," or the ringing language of Abigail
Adams: "Though I have been called to sacrifice to my country, I can
glory in my sacrifice and derive pleasure from my intimate connexion
with one who is esteemed worthy of the important trust devolved upon
him"--such words could but urge the fighting colonists to greater deeds
of heroism. And many of the patriot husbands thoroughly appreciated the
silent courage of their wives. John Adams, thinking upon the years of
hardships his wife had so cheerfully undergone, how she had done a man's
work on the farm, had fed and clothed the children, had kept the home
intact, while he struggled for the new nation, wrote her: "You are
really brave, my dear. You are a heroine and you have reason to be, for
the worst than can happen can do you no harm. A soul as pure, as
benevolent, as virtuous, and pious as yours has nothing to fear, but
everything to hope from the last of human evils."

Mercy Warren, too, though she might ridicule the weakness of her sex in
_Woman's Trifling Need_, cheerfully remained alone and unprotected while
her husband went forth to battle; she was even thoughtful enough in
those years of loneliness to keep a record of the stirring times--a
record which was afterwards embodied into her History of the Revolution.
Catherine Schuyler was another of those brave spirits that faced
unflinchingly the horrors of warfare. When a bride of but one week, she
saw her husband march away to the Indian war, and from girlhood to old
age she was familiar with the meaning of carnage. Shortly after the
Battle of Saratoga the entire country was aroused by the murder of Jane
McCrea; women and children fled to the towns: refugees told of the
coming of a host of British, Tories, and Indians. The Schuyler home lay
in the path of the enemy, and in the mansion were family treasures and
heirlooms dear to her heart. She determined to save these, and back she
hastened from town to country. As she pushed on, multitudes of refugees
begged her to turn back; but no appeal, no warning moved her. It was
mid-summer, and the fields were heavy with ripe grain. Realizing that
this meant food for the invaders, she resolved to burn all. When she
reached her home she commanded a negro to light torches and descended
with him to the flats where the great fields of golden grain waved. The
slave went a little distance, but his courage deserted him. "Very well,"
she exclaimed, "if you will not do it, I must do it myself." And with
that she ran into the midst of the waving stalks, tossed the flaming
torches here and there, and for a moment watched the flames sweep
through the year's harvest. Then, hurrying to the house, she gathered
up her most valuable possessions, hastened away over the dangerous road,
and reached Albany in safety.

Within a few hours Burgoyne and his officers were making merry in the
great house, drinking the Schuyler wine, and on the following day the
mansion was burned to the ground. But fate played the British leader a
curious trick; for within a few days Burgoyne found himself defeated and
a guest in the Schuyler home at Albany. "I expressed my regret," he has
testified, "at the event which had happened and the reasons which had
occasioned it. He [Schuyler] desired me to think no more about it; said
the occasion justified it, according to the rules and principles of war,
and he should have done the same."[311]

As Chastellux declared: "Burgoyne was extremely well received by Mrs.
Schuyler and her little family. He was lodged in the best apartment in
the house. An excellent supper was served him in the evening, the honors
of which were done with so much grace that he was affected even to
tears, and could not help saying with a deep sigh, 'Indeed, this is
doing too much for a man who has ravished their lands and burnt their
home."[312] Indeed, all through his stay in this house he and his staff
of twenty were treated with the utmost courtesy by Catherine Schuyler.

But was not this characteristic of so many of those better class
colonial women? The inherent delicacy, refinement, and tact of those
dames of long ago can be equalled only by their courage, perseverance,
and loyalty in the hour of disaster. Whether in war or in peace they
could remain calm and self-possesed, and when given opportunity showed
initiative power fully equalling that of their more famous husbands.
They could be valiant without losing refinement; they could bid defiance
to the enemy and yet retain all womanliness.

Is it not evident that woman was charmingly feminine, even in colonial
days? Did she not possess essentially the same strengths and weaknesses
as she does to-day? In general, accepting creeds more devoutly than did
the men, as is still the case, often devouring greedily those writings
which she thought might add to her education, yet more closely attached
to her home than most modern women, the colonial dame frequently
represented a strange mingling of superstition, culture, and delicate
sensibility. Possessing doubtless a more whole-hearted reverence for
man's ideas and opinions than does her modern sister, she seems to have
kept her aspirations for a broader sphere of activity under rather
severe restraint, and felt it her duty first of all to make the home a
refuge and a consolation for the husband and father who returned in
weariness from his battle with the world.

She loved finery and adornment even as she does to-day; but under the
influence of a burning patriotism she could and did crush all such
longings for the beautiful things of this world. She had oftentimes
genuine capacity for initiative and leadership; but public sentiment of
the day induced her to stand modestly in the back-ground and allow the
father, husband, or son to do the more spectacular work of the world.
Yet in the hour of peril she could bear unflinchingly toil, hardships,
and danger, and asked in return only the love and appreciation of
husband and child. That she obtained such love and appreciation cannot
be doubted. From the yellow manuscripts and the faded satins and
brocades of those early days comes the faint flavor of romances as
pathetic or happy as any of our own times,--quaint, old romances that
tell of love and jealousy, happy unions or broken hearts, triumph or
defeat in the activities of a day that is gone. Surely, the
soul--especially that of a woman--changes but little in the passing of
the centuries.


FOOTNOTES:

[297] Brooks: _Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days_, p. 26.

[298] _Diary_, Vol. I, p. 43.

[299] _Dutch and Quaker Colonies in America_, Vol. I, p. 112.

[300] _Diary_, Vol. I, p. 317.

[301] Smyth: _Writings of B. Franklin_, Vol. III, p. 395.

[302] Ravenel: _Eliza Pinckney_, pp. 7, 9, 30.

[303] Ravenel: _E. Pinckney_, p. 107.

[304] Graham: _Dolly Madison_, p. 46.

[305] _Letters_, p. 15.

[306] Wharton: _Martha Washington_, p. 90.

[307] Ravenel: _Eliza Pinckney_, p. 265.

[308] Ravenal: _Eliza Pinckney_, p. 301.

[309] _Letters_, p. 74.

[310] _Letters_, p. 9.

[311] Humphreys: _Catherine Schuyler_, p. 159.

[312] Humphreys: _Catherine Schuyler_, p. 162.




BIBLIOGRAPHY


The following books will be found of exceptional interest and value to
readers who may wish to look further into the subject of woman's life in
early America.

Adams, A., _Letters_;
Adams, H., _Memoir_;
Adams, J., _Writings_;
Allen, _Woman's Part in Government_;
Alsop, _Character of the Province of Maryland_;
American Nation Series;
Andrews, _Colonial Period_;
Anthony, _Past, Present and Future Status of Woman_;
Avery, _History of United States_;
Beach, _Daughters of the Puritans_;
Beard, _Readings in American Government_;
Beverly, _History of Virginia_;
Bliss, _Side-Lights from the Colonial Meeting-House_;
Bradford, _History of Plymouth Plantation_;
Bradstreet, _Several Poems Compiled with Great Variety of Wit and
Learning_;
Brooks, _Dames and Daughters of Colonial Days_;
Brown, _History of Maryland_;
Brown, _Mercy Warren_;
Bruce, _Economic Forces in Virginia in the Seventeenth Century_;
Bruce, _Institutional History of Virginia in 17th Century_;
Buckingham, _Reminiscences_;
Byrd, _Writings_;
Cable, _Strange, True Stories of Louisiana_;
Cairns, _Early American Writings_;
Calef, _More Wonders of the Invisible World_;
Campbell, _Puritans in Holland, England and America_;
Chastellux, _Travels_;
Coffin, _Old Times in the Colonies_;
Cooke, _Virginia_;
Crawford, _Romantic Days in the Early Republic_;
Crevecoeur, _Letters from an American Farmer_;
Drake, _New England Legends_;
Draper, _American Education_;
Duychinck, _Cyclopedia of American Literature_;
Earle, _Child Life in Colonial Days_, _Colonial Days in Old New York_,
_Customs and Manners of Colonial Days_, _Home Life in Colonial Days_,
_Margaret Winthrop_, _Sabbath in Old New England_;
Edward, _Works_;
Firth, _Stuart Tracts_;
Fisher, _Men, Women and Manners in Colonial Times_;
Fiske, _Colonial Documents of New York_; _Dutch and Quaker Colonies_,
_Old Virginia and Her Neighbors_;
Fithian, _Selections from Writings_;
Franklin, _Writings_, ed. Smyth;
Freeze, _Historic Homes and Spots in Cambridge_;
Garden, _Anecdotes of the Revolutionary War_;
Goodwin, _Dolly Madison_;
Grant, _Memoirs of an American Lady_;
Griswold, _Prose Writings of America_;
Hammond, _Leah and Rachel_;
Holliday, _History of Southern Literature_, _Three Centuries of Southern
Poetry_, _Wit and Humor of Colonial Days_;
Hooker, _Way of the Churches of New England_;
Howard, _History of Matrimonial Institutions_;
Humphreys, _Catherine Schuyler_;
Hutchinson, _History of Massachusetts Bay Colony_;
Jefferson, _Writings_, ed. Ford;
Johnson, _Wonder Working Providence of Zion's Saviour in New England_;
Josselyn, _New England Rareties Discovered_;
Knight, _Journal_;
Lawson, _History of Carolina_;
Maclay, _Journal_;
Masefield, _Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers_;
Mather, _Diary_, _Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences_,
_Essay to do Good_, _Memorable Providences_, _Wonders of the Invisible
World_; _Narratives of Early Maryland_;
Onderdonck, _History of American Verse_; _Original Narratives of Early
American History_;
Otis, _American Verse_;
Peters, _General History of Connecticut_;
Prince, _Annals of New England_;
Pryor, _Mother of Washington, and Her Times_;
Pynchon, _Diary_;
Ravenel, _Eliza Pinckney_;
Robertson, _Louisiana under Spain, France, and United States_;
Rowlandson, _Narrative of Her Captivity_;
Schrimacher, _Modern Woman's Rights_;
Sewall, _Diary_;
Simons, _Social Forces in American History_;
Smith, _History of the Province of New York_;
Stith, _History of the First Settlement of Virginia_;
Turell, _Memoirs_;
Tompson, _New England's Crisis_;
Tyler, _American Literature in the Colonial Period_;
Uurtonbaker, _Virginia Under the Stuarts_;
Vanderdonck, _New Netherlands_;
Van Rensselaer, _Good Vrouw of Man-ha-ta_;
Ward, _Simple Cobbler_;
Weeden, _Economic and Social History of New England_;
Welde, _Short Story of the Rise, Wane, and Ruin of the Antinomians_;
Wharton, _Martha Washington_;
Wharton, _Through Colonial Doorways_;
Wigglesworth, _Day of Doom_;
Williams, _Ballads of the American Revolution_;
Winthrop, _History of New England_;
Wright, _Industrial Evolution of the United States_;
Woolman, _Diary_.




INDEX


A

Adams, Abigail, 66, 69, 72, 79, 82, 92, 99, 100, 128, 131, 133, 134,
138, 140, 142, 144, 148, 156, 164, 229, 235, 244, 303, 307, 308.

Adams, Hannah, 91, 92.

Adams, John, 80, 90, 303, 308.

Adultery, 261, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 284, 285.

Advice, Matrimonial, 277.

Affairs, Domestic, 150.

Alliott, Paul, 240.

_American Museum_, 108.

Amusements, 200, 213 (see Recreations).

_Anecdotes of the Revolutionary War_, 275.

_Annals of New England_, 5, 108.

Antinomians, 41.

Architecture, 179, 217.

Arnold, Margaret, 145, 273.

Art, 184.

Attacks, Indian, 116.

Attendance at Church, 19, 65.

_Autobiography_ (Franklin), 268.


B

Banns, 201, 258.

Baptism, 288.

Beauty of Philadelphia Women, 229.

Bee, Husking, 208.

Berquin-Duvallon, 239, 240, 242.

Beverly, 178.

Bible, 79.

Bibliography, 313.

Bigamy, 261.

Blue Laws, 208.

Boarding Schools, 87, 244.

Bowne, Eliza, 170.

Bradford, Governor, 6, 96.

Bradstreet, Anne, 98, 99.

Branding, 281, 282.

Breach of Promise, 249.

Brent, Margaret, 299.

British Social Customs, 217.

Buckingham's _Reminiscences_, 160, 161.

Bundling, 283.

Bunyan, John 4.

Business, Women in, 132, 147.

Byrd, William, 36, 102.


C

Calef, Robert, 56, 60.

Captivity of Mary Rowlandson, 119.

Card-Playing, 192, 219, 221, 228, 231.

Carolinas, 64, 65, 69, 74, 79, 87, 105, 132, 174, 175, 183, 236, 246,
270, 284, 305.

Catholic Church, 69.

Causes of Display, 222.

Ceremony, Marriage, 258.

Chastellux, 164, 179, 181, 228, 310.

Children, 24, 28, 29, 31, 105, 114, 116, 122, 124, 126, 141, 165, 166,
206, 211, 213, 214, 215, 270.

Christmas, 203, 204.

Church Attendance, 19, 65.

Church of England, 69.

Colonial Woman and Religion, 3.

Comfort in Religion, 38.

Commercial Initiative, 293.

Concord, 8.

Connecticut, 90, 91, 154, 272, 283.

_Connecticut, General History of_, 90.

Consent for Courtship, 248.

Conveniences, Lack of, 105.

Cooking, 106, 107.

Cooking Utensils, 108.

Co-operation, 177.

Cotton, John, 32, 34, 42, 43.

Courtship, 136, 191, 221, 247, 248, 251, 256, 269, 274, 276.

Courtship, Consent, for 248.

Courtship, Unlawful, 248.

Crevecoeur, St. John de, 301.

Curiosity, 190.

Custis, Nelly, 277.

Customs in Louisiana, 238.


D

Dame's School, 71, 94, 262, 294.

Dancing, 52, 74, 85, 88, 89, 94, 183, 185, 193, 200, 207, 220, 227,
229, 232, 244, 260, 271.

_Day of Doom_, 10, 11, 15.

Day of Rest, 31.

Death, 115.

de Brahm, 66.

de Crevecoeur, St. John 301.

de Warville, Brissot, 183, 219.

Diary, Fithian's, 159.

Diary, Mother's, 30.

Diary, Sewall's, 14, 15, 28, 57, 63, 71, 72, 115, 117, 125, 126, 129,
133, 139, 155, 189, 190, 202, 203, 207, 265, 280.

Diary, Woolman's, 40.

Display, Causes of, 222.

Divorce, 263.