A Chapter On Woman

A woman, notwithstandsng sho is the best of listenere, knows her business, and it is a woman's business to pleaso. I do not say that itis not her business to vote, but I do say that a woman who does not pleaso is a false note in the harmonies of nature. She may not havo youth or beauty, or evon manner, but she raust hae something in her or oxpression, or bcth, which makes you feel better diaposed toward your race to look at or listen to. She knows that as well as we do; and her first question after you have been talking your soul in her consoiousness is, Did I please F A woman never forgets her sox. She would rather talk with a man than an angel any day. Womanly women are very kindly critica, except to themselves, and now and then to their own sex. The less there is of sex about a woman, the more she is to be dreáded. But take a real woman at her bost momet - well enough dressed to be pleased with herself, not so resplendent as to bo a show and sensation, with the varied outside inñuences that set vibra ting the harmonie notes of her nature stiriing in the air about her - and what has social life to compare with one of those vital interchanges of thought and feeling with her that makes an hour memorial. What can equal her tact, her delicacy, her subtlety of apprehension, her quickness to feel the changes of temperature as the warm and cool currents of fhought blow by turns ? At one inonent she is microscopically intellectual, critical, scrupulous in judgment as an analyst's bailan ce, and the next as sympathetic as the open rose that sweetens the wind from whatever quarter it linds its way to her bosom. It is in the hospitable soul of a woman that man forgets he is a stranger, and so becoines natural and truthful, at the same time he is mesmerized by all those differences which make her a mystery and a