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THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.

search-lights of electricity,' who spin the threads and weave the web that shapes tomorrow. These humble toilers whose names are not blazoned, “ whose faces are covered with care like a tattered veil ” are, while they toil all the day, living lives of simple Christian faith, mother love untiring and abiding; the poor loving souls are building better than they know, and when the tired hands lie at rest their children will emulate their virtues and rise up and call them blessed.

Woman sees her opportunity, and comes, true Amazons, to the call of duty. John L. WQolley says, “ Woman is coming right regally to the fore; step aside, crawl under something, climb a tree, you puny men, the women are coming.” They are here, Mr. Woolley! From the East and the West the women come at duty’s call, from the North come earnest champions for the right, and from the fair South we hear the stir of eagle’s wings. Organization is the feature of the age and the imperious future beckons us on.

Having turned my feeble rush-light back into the almost forgotten yesterday, . with a glance at holy writ, mythology and tradition, down to this almost apex of the twentieth century, my tongue must yield to better wit, my pen to greater power, if it must be proven that woman is the weaker vessel.