a million more women than men; it follows naturally, therefore, that many, whether they will it or not, must remain single; if they are rich, the chances in this mercenary age are that they will marry, but if ladies, and poor, what are they to do? The world of governesses is already overstocked, and what other career is open to them?

Now if every girl, whatever her present position, were trained with a view to the possible necessity of having in the future to get her own living, it need not render her less lovable or unfit for the duties of a wife and mother, if such should be her lot; while the very feeling of self-reliance engendered would of itself be sufficient to counteract the weakness of character we have been deploring.

The current of popular feeling is now setting somewhat in favour of affording women greater facilities for earning their own livelihood, should their circumstances render it necessary; the profession of medicine is already open to them, and in all probability the reason so few have taken to it is because both prejudice and a defective education have been against them.

It is urged that such a life is calculated to render a woman eccentric, masculine, and altogether objectionable. Really, I am ashamed that people with a grain of common sense should argue in this way should say, "Oh, Mrs., or Miss So-and-so, who has taken to that sort of thing, is strong-minded, and at the same time unfeminine; therefore every woman who attempts to rise above common-place is unfeminine, and consequently to be protested against." Can anything be more childish than this mode of reasoning? I do not deny that there are a few, a very few, women who carry their strength of mind and disregard of appearances to excess; but this is only the result of reaction, and with the removal of some of our legal restrictions (which are certainly unfair to women) would entirely disappear.

My object in writing is not to show what might be if social laws were different, but rather to offer a few practical suggestions, by which those who are still growing up may be fitted to take, in the future, to professions that I feel sure, before many years are past, will be thrown open to them. There is nothing but prejudice to stand in the way of a woman who is trained with a view to such an end, becoming a banker, merchant, or even a lawyer; there is no more publicity in the former life than in managing a shop, or standing, as thousands do, behind the counter; and for the latter, do not women constantly appear in court as witnesses?

We know these ideas are not of the sort to meet just yet with very strong support; there are two classes of people, at least, who will look upon them as monstrous. First of all, those of the “men-must-work-and-women-must-weep" type, who think it

cruel that anyone should talk of women being made to exert themselves; who put "the dear little helpless things" on the mantelshelf of their minds, giving them exactly the vocation of a Dresden china shepherdess, viz., to sit with their hands folded, and to smile and look pretty. Again, there is another class who talk vaguely of "women's proper sphere," whatever that may be, forgetting, if they mean by it domestic affairs and the duties of a wife and mother, that not one of the million we have cited can in a monogamous country be any other than a celebate; and how much happier and more useful in their generation would they be with definite occupation-how much more contented if, when young, they had been taught to think and act instead of dreaming.

It may be that some giri, past the age of childhood, will say, "We see the truth of your remarks; we feel we are, to a great extent, leading a purposeless, aimless existence; we know we should be better and wiser women if we thought of something beyond dress and amusement, were not so desultory in our occupations, and could form clearer and more rational ideas of things in general. But what are we to do?"

To them I say, "It is not too late to do something to remedy the faults due to a defective system of education; only in everything strive to be in earnest; habitual earnestness is the sole corrective of the dreamy, listless trifling, which is the bane of most girls' lives."

As far as possible live by rule, and plan out each day, so that not a minute shall be passed without your doing something to improve yourself, or benefit your neighbours. Give an hour or two in the twenty-four to the study of some subject which will require real hard work to master; do not undertake too many things, but always have some definite occupation, and do nothing by halves. That smith who, when asked why he did not join some other trade to his own, made a wise reply when he said, "He who would be blacksmith and whitesmith too may go and shoe the goslings." Whatever you begin, do steadily and thoroughly, and rather make sure of knowing a few things well than aim at the reputation of having acquired a great many.

Let your reading consist mainly of the works of standard authors, and if you really are in earnest in the desire of acquiring mental strength, and of becoming a wise and sensible woman, do not indulge much in novel reading; if you take up works of fiction, let it be only when you are physically or mentally tired, and actually require relaxation. Do not read carelessly, but think well over any subject brought before you, and, if possible, refer to other books which may throw light upon the same, so that you may gain expansive views. Learn to think justly, and avoid taking a one

sided, narrow line in argument, and reasoning in a circle, as women are too fond of doing. Again, always remember when choosing books for perusal, that the nourishment of the mind, like that of the body, depends more on the quality of the food taken, and on its being well digested, than on the quantity that is devoured.

Another thing to be avoided, if you would acquire mental strength, is the habit of indulging in endless reveries and daydreams, than which nothing can be more destructive to practical usefulness or to energy of mind. Do you never hear those lines, written, I believe, by Swift in a game of bout-rimès?

"I sit with my toes in a brook,

And if anyone asks me for why,

1 hits 'em a hit with my crook,

And 'tis sentiment kills me, says I."

It is to be feared there are many girls who have a habit of sitting metaphorically with their "toes in a brook," and are nearly dying of ennui and sickly sentimentality.

Do not be angry if I seem severe; it is only out of regard for you, and because I feel you are capable of better things, that I speak so strongly. You will find it hard, as it always is at first, to break through practices indulged in so long that they have become almost a second nature; but there are a few difficulties that energy and resolution will not conquer; and rest assured, perseverance will be repaid in the end. The knowledge gained through a regular system of self-culture is certain, at some period of your life, to be more useful than at present you can at all conceive; and remember, in doing your utmost to improve the talents with which you have been entrusted, you are working, not only for time, but for eternity. The very incompleteness of this world's best and noblest undertakings is the strongest proof of that future existence in which we shall realise a fulness of beauty and depth of wisdom we have scarcely dreamed of here; where, perhaps, in company with the master-minds of other ages, we shall be suffered to follow out the path we loved best on earth, our intelligence ever widening, and our ideal rising higher and higher as we approach nearer to that perfection which is of Divinity itself the very essence.

THE HUNCHBACK CASHIER:

A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY.

CHAPTER V.

MR. PEPPER'S WILL.

THERE was a strange scene passing at Mrs. Berrington's house while she was away, with her son, at the presbytery of St. Peter's.

Betsy stood at the open door, looking anxiously up the broad high road that led away to Winchester. Green hedgerows on either side, fragrant with hawthorn, a flush of pink apple-blossom over the orchards, and the sky clear blue and cloudless. The old woman shaded her eyes with her hand, as she stood in the broad sunlight, under the purple and white blossoms of the sweet-scented lilacs that stood on either side of the door.

"How long he is of coming!" she muttered, angrily. "Lawyers are well paid; they needna keep people waiting i' this gait? Death waits for no man; and suppose he were to die, and me unprovided for! Lord save us! what would I do?" And the old woman's selfish fears caused her brown withered face to grow a shade paler, and she wiped from her brow the perspiration which stood there in bead-like drops at the frightful idea.

She was not a pleasing looking woman; tall and rawboned, coarse features, and a projecting upper lip, gave an unpleasant expression to the whole face. She was clad in a gown of sad coloured stuff, so short as to show her blue worsted hose, ornamented with white clocks. Her white muslin cap had frills and a large bow on the top.

"At last he's coming!" exclaimed Betsy, who, unable to restrain her impatience, had been walking backwards and forwards between the door and the gate. "We have been waiting for you this two hours, Mr. Scriven," said Betsy, sharply. "It's no a matter for delays when a man wants to make his will."

"Other people want to make wills, too, Mrs. Betsy," replied the person who had just arrived; a man of middle age, grave and sedate in appearance, dressed in a suit of black, and on his head a

brown bob periwig, with a single row of curls round the bottom unpowdered, but very nicely combed and arranged."

"I have been at Squire Nichols's since early this morning. The good gentleman is dying fast."

Betsy took but little notice of what the lawyer was saving, and led him up the narrow dark staircase of the cottage into her master's sleeping apartment, where he was seated, propped up by pillows, in a large high-backed chair. The sunlight shone full on him, as it streamed in through the long wreaths of ivy that twined about the casement; but there was a grey shadow on the haggard face, the features were pinched, and the lawyer's sharp eye saw death written unmistakably on every lineament.

"Mr. Pepper, have you seen a doctor ?" asked Mr Scriven, as he took a seat beside the dying man.

"No, I am not going to spend my substance on apothecaries' stuff," was the sharp reply.

"It's little good their drugs do," muttered Betsy, as she loitered about the room, arranging and rearranging different little articles of furniture. They whiles can do nowt but drain your purse, and that they can always do, I'll warrant ye."

"I expect this attack will pass off," said the old man, as his fingers nervously trifled and twitched at the skirts of the old dressing-gown he wore-often a fatal sign of approaching dissolution. "But I want to make my will-to know that whenever I happen to die I shall not leave my substance to be frittered away by a parcel of hungry heirs, who will chuckle at the old man's folly in hoarding for them, as they squander his golden guineas. I tell ye, Scriven, I mean no one to be the better for my death but Betsy. She has been a good servant to me, and if I die first I'll make her my sole heir.”

(a

Lord, bless you for remembering your old Goose Eye "" strange appellation given her by her master) whined Betsy, as she came and knelt by the old man's feet, and caressed his knees; " but there's no one as has cared for ye as I have, for these thirty year and more."

"Aye, thirty years!" responded Mr. Pepper," she's pinched and scraped and saved for me; and I've not been unmindful of it. I've had a vault built for you in St. Lawrance's Church, Betsy, he added, pathetically; "for I think I shall see you out yet, and I've planned a tomb to be erected over your bones. So you'll be buried, good old wench, as well as e'er a lady in the land.-But come, Scriven, let us to business. Now, all I want you to do is to draw up a will as simple and brief as you can, conveying all my worldly goods to Mistress Betsy Dalton."

The lawyer hesitated. He was an honourable man, and a man