Staunton Vindicator

When Beau Brummel was asked what it took to make gentlemen, his quick reply was, "Starch, Starch, my lord!" This may be true; but it takes a great deal more to make a lady; and though it may seem singular, I am ready to maintain that no conceivable quantity of muslin, silk or satin, edging, trilling, hooping, flouncing or furbelowing, can per se or per dress maker, constitute a real lady. Was not Mrs. Abbott Lawrence just as much a lady when attired in twelve-cent calico, in Boston, as when arrayed in full court dress at St. James' London? "As Mrs. Washington was said to be so grand a lady," says a celebrated English visitor (Mrs Thorpe,) "we thought we must put on our best bids and bands; so we dressed ourselves in our most elegant ruffles and silks, and were introduced to her ladyship: and don't you think we found her knitting, and with her check apron on! She received us very graciously and easily; but after the compliments were over she resumed her knitting. There we were, without a stitch of work, and sitting in state; but General Washington's lady, with her own hands was knitting stockings for her husband!" Does not that sweet republican simplicity command your admiration?

We notice, in preambulating the streets of Staunton, a considerable awakening among the business portion of our community. Some of our Dry Goods, Grocery and Hardware Merchants are receiving stocks of new goods, others are brushing up preparatory to receiving their new assortments. The Tobacconists have fine stocks and boast that they are old ones. The Confectioners are exhibiting a tempting lot of fresh candies, fruits, &c. The Druggists have on hand, or are ready to prepare, at short notice, any compound needful to kill or cure. Physicians, Surgeons and Dentists are in readiness at all times to prescribe for a patient, amputate a limb or extract a tooth. Lawyers are as abundant as necessary, but fortunately there are no courts to practice in. The Mechanics have brushed off the dust of four year's idleness and are ready to split a match or peg, "steel" their patrons work, build or repair a house or carriage, mend a coat or make you a sole or coffin. And last but not least, the millinery establishments abound with--we don't know whether it is fine, elegant, exquisite, or what sort of--"what do you call 'ems!", but the fabrics are there in all their gorgeous, crimped and crumpled brilliancy, with such a lot of customers! Well if we don't know what to call the fabrics we know the customers are beautiful. We wish we were not a bachelor, we could then drop in, with some sort of show, to look at the--no not the "what do you call 'ems"--but the "stray angels."

We thought we had a good thing of it the other day--we had a bill against one of these establishments and dropped in to collect the amount--no, that wasn't it, but to see the throng of beauties, but the lady proprietress was too polite to detain us and paid us instanter. We expected her to ask us to wait awhile and then invite us to call again and she would settle, but she wouldn't. Wonder if she treats married gentlemen as she treated us. We wouldn't be a bachelor a day longer if we could help it. Won't somebody give us the agency of a sewing machine?