you will remember is devoted exclusively to the higher education of women. As I stood in those ample halls, and thought of that studious household, of the observatory and its occupants, it seemed to me that, like the German naturalist, who, wandering in the valley of the Amazon, came suddenly upon the Victoria Regia, so there, in the valley of the Hudson, I had come upon one of the finest flowers of our civilization. But in the midst of my enthusiasm I was told by the President that this was the first fully endowed college for women in the world; and from that moment I was alarmed. From behind every door, every tree, I expected to see good Master Ting springing out with his "Hi! hi! you laugh at us Chinese barbarians; you call yourselves in America the head of civilization; you claim that the glory of your civilization is your estimate of women; you sneer at us Chinese for belittling women's souls and squeezing their feet. Who belittle their capacities? Who squeeze their minds?" We must confess it. The old theory of the subservience of women still taints our civilization.
You open your morning paper and read that on the previous evening there was a meeting of intelligent and experienced women, with some that were not so, which is true of all general meetings of men and women; and these persons demanded the same liberty of choice, and an equal opportunity with all other members of society. But the report of the meeting is received with a shout of derisive laughter that echoes through the press and through private conversation. Gulliver did not take the Lilliputians on his hands and look at them with more utter contempt than the political class of this country, to which the men in this hall belong, take up these women and look at them with infinite, amused disdain. But in the very next column of the same morning paper we find another report, describing a public dinner, at which men only were present. And we read that after the great orators had made their great speeches, in the course of which they complimented woman so prettily, to the delight of the few privileged ladies who stood behind the screens, or looked over the balcony, or peeped in through the cracks of the windows and doors; and when the great orators had retired with the President, amid universal applause, the first Vice-President took the head of the table and punch was brought in. And well toward morning, when the "army" and "navy" and the "press" and the "Common Council" had been toasted and drank, with three times three, and Richard Swiveller, Esq., had sung his celebrated song, "Queen of my soul!" the last regular toast was proposed—"Woman—heaven's last, best gift to man," which was received with tumultuous enthusiasm, the whole company rising and cheering, the band playing "Will ye come to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O?" and in response to a unanimous call, some gallant and chivalric editor replied in a strain of pathetic and humorous eloquence, during which many of the company were observed to shed tears or laugh, or embrace their neighbors; after which those of the company who were able rose from the table, and hallooing, "We won't go home till morning!" they hiccoughed their way home. This report is not read with great derision or laughter. It is not felt that by this performance women have been insulted and degraded.
Here, at this moment, in this audience, I have no doubt there is many a man who is exclaiming with fervor—"Home, the heaven-appointed sphere of wom-