Mr. Editor,—Will you allow me (a young woman between 25 and 30 years of age, with dark curly hair, height live feet two inches, weight nine stones two pounds, with good temper) to inform your readers, that up to the present -time I have not had a single offer of marriage, neither have I ever at any time, been asked for my company by either a young male or an old one during the last 10 years.
Surely there is something wrong somewhere. I am tolerably good looking. I confess I have not had a classical education, neither am I musical, but I can read a newspaper. I know that twice two are four and that twice four are eight. I can also spell potato without an e, and write a legible hand, and I am not afraid or ashamed to say that I can either blacklead a grate or wash a floor, as well or perhaps better than many of our fashionable young ladies in the neighbourhood, who do not (some of them) feel disposed to recognise me when we meet. I am rather shy acknowledged.
I certainly somehow or other feel that I am neglected by the lord of creation. I can see some young girls with fresh young men nearly every month and I none to notice me, and I am sure I am much better looking than many of them, and as I before have said am tolerably well domesticated and capable of taking the entire management of any respectable household. Last but not least, I am quite certain that I should make a good loving wife and helpmate and always be in obedience to the requirements of a loving and indulging husband.
Now Mr. Editor I ask, ought such a one be left out in the cold world and to be no more noticed than a dog or a donkey ? I think not, and if I am no more noticed during the next three months I shall migrate to a more loving locality, where I shall be properly appreciated and where I may have an opportunity of saying ‘yes’ to some consistent young man’s offer.
I must now thank you for your kind allowance for a corner in your valuable paper. I felt that I must give vent to my feelings somewhere or in some way ; if it is a weakness on my part please pardon it, I certainly feel better for the publication, and it may do good.
I am, dear Mr. Editor, truly yours, S. B.
Source: Skegness herald 1882