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genius. These are the few, and they will be likely to shun the bitter controversies of political life, greatly preferring the attitude of moral inspirers; these would simply be hampered by the action of the voters. In the event of woman suffrage being established, the lower class would hardly go to the polls because if they opposed the men, there would be strife; the fashionable would not, because they do not care; the philanthropic have too much to do already, with charitable work; the great middle class, consisting of the wives, sisters, daughters of active men in the world's business, is precisely that which we rely on for immediate moral influence, and which it is desirable to rescue from absorption in the common run of mundane interests. In either case, there is a distinct loss of power. The cultivated and philanthropic classes are embarrassed; the lower class is angered; the middle class is confused by the conflict of their dreams with their duties, their aspirations after moral serenity and their daily social responsibilities. They can neither be inspirers nor helpmates, and their condition is not a happy one.

There seem to be two theories of woman among those who hope for her future. With no others have we anything to do. According to one view, she is a creature in an inferior position; oppressed, kept in subjection, held down by the might of man; a creature without opportunities, or chance to show what she is, or what she can do. The laws are against her; customs are but seemingly in her favor; politeness is a gilded form of contempt. If this theory be true, then by all means, let emancipation be eagerly pursued, and brought about as soon as possible. Let liberty have her full course. Hands off! We must all conspire to lift women up; to put them on the same level with men; to abolish every vestige of ownership or subjugation. Every right-minded man desires no less than this. The other theory regards woman as an independent creature; with a genius of her own, having a record in the past, a work in the present, a career in the time to come, providentially placed and equipped, and simply misapprehended. If this account be received, then all she needs is appreciation, a hearty welcome, an honest sympathy. Encourage her shyness. Applaud her achievements. Let all doors that lead into cellars be kept shut. Let her not be set to tasks that she cannot perform. Let her not be invited to imitate men, or to enter into competition with them. Let

her services to society be gratefully acknowledged, and more like them be asked for. She is the complement of man, and of course man cannot get along without her. If he is the hand, she is the heart; not his superior, but his equal in another sphere. It is needless to say that this latter theory is the one accepted here.

These remarks are not designed as an argument on the whole question, nor have they any controversial purpose. The writer does not intend to throw down a gage of defiance or to provoke dispute. To fight in defence of one's own opinion is not the way to elicit truth. He would simply explain a position, with no thought of persuading others, or of making a single convert. He would speak for some of his contemporaries who have less leisure, or less sensitiveness, or less sense of personal accountability than he has. At all events he will clear his own conscience.

UNDER THE WHEEL.

A MODERN PLAY IN SIX SCENES.

BY HAMLIN GARLAND.

"I have fallen under the wheel."-Bazarof in Turgeneff's "Fathers and Sons."

Scene First.-A Mechanic's Tenement. Scene Fourth.-A Settler's Harvest.

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A square room, carpeted with a cheap carpet; door back, looking into hall; worn caneseat chairs standing about; table in centre, scantily spread; sofa right front; piano right back; bureau left back; small table left front, covered with books. Everythifig indicates that this is general living room, dining and sitting room. The roar of the street and the shrill clamor of children enter the room. It is about five o'clock, and very hot. Linnie is drumming on the piano. Mrs. Edwards is coming and going wearily, her face is sweet, but worn and apathetic.

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Linnie (jumping from the stool).

"What, momma ?”

Mrs. E. "You didn't put on the cups and saucers." (Linnie flies out into the kitchen. Mrs. Edwards drops into a chair wearily, and putting her hands to her head sighs deeply, "Oh, dear!")

"Didn't Allie look

Linnie (returning and arranging cups). lovely, momma, sitting up there before all those people? I wish I was a graduate so I could sing and wear a white dress."

Mrs. E. (rising slowly). "Be patient, child, an' mebbe you will be. If father has good luck you can go to the conservatory. Mebbe we won't always be s' poor."

Linnie. "What makes so many people poor, momma?" Mrs. E. "Oh, I don't know, child. Ask Mr. Reeves; he's an editor, and ought t' know. I don't know."

(Boy peeps in the door, throws himself into an attitude of pitching a ball.) "Hi, there! Git onto me curves!

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Linnie. "Oh, let me see! Where 'd y' get it, Teddy?”
Teddy. "I found it - bought it, I mean.'
Linnie. "Found it! Where?" (Teddy hesitates.)
Teddy!"

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Teddy (reproachfully). "Well, what's a feller t' do wen Brooters bangs a high foul over de fence square up agin y'r leg? Look out fer me razzle-dazzle now! Get onto me snake now, Clarkson's in de box! Now see me pitch a side-drop. Oh, dat's de ball dat razzle-dazzles de coon wid de stick!" (Pantomime of throwing.)

Linnie (looking on with interest). "I'll bet I can do it. Let me try."

Teddy. "I've got 'a' go home in a minnit, but I'll give yeh a pointer or two."

(As they talk in the corner Mrs. Murtagh, a middle-aged Irishwoman with pleasant face, enters with a dish in her hand. As she talks Mrs. E. keeps about her work, causing the visitor to raise and lower her voice alternately.)

Mrs. Murtagh. "Arrah! And have ye haird the noos? Timmy Sheehan has broken the hid ov Mike O'Lary f'r darin' ť chpake ill ov Mary McGrill. The more honor to him! and Mrs. O'Hoolihan's old man caam home full o' paches, wild as an injin -and oh! the cirrcus they had wud raise the hairs of ye! - y' should be on me side o' the house. Y'd ha' thought the bloody fiends o' hell wor havin' a free fight. It's a foine woman is Mrs. O'Hoolihan, an' her arms are beautiful wid mooscle; the divil a mon c'n walk over her hid—”

Mrs. Edwards. "Sh! Don't talk of that, I don't like to have Linnie hear it. She hears too much now."

Mrs. M. (lowering her voice). "It's little she moinds what oim a-sayin,' wid Teddy tachin' her some o' his schmart tricks. He takes after his father, does Teddy." (With adroit turn to flattery.) "But it's a blissid home y' have here sure, wid four swate little rooms on the second floight front. An' think o' me jist, wid six childer an' three rooms three floights back! It's a lucky woman ye air so ye air, Mrs. Edwards."

compared with others;

What'll

Mrs. Edwards. "Yes, I 'spose I be, but my home aint what I wish it was." Mrs. M. "Not what ye wish it was! the airth?" Mrs. E. (musing a moment at the table). "Yes, that's just it.

ye be wantin'

It is the earth I'm wantin'. I want 'o live where they's a place for my children to play. Seems 's if I never could get reconciled to their playin' in the streets. I want a little yard with apple-trees in it and a pear-tree, and-and-a-home this aint a home, it's only a stopping-place."

Mrs. M. "Glory be to God. Whin ye git that y'll be wid the saints! Be gorry, the loikes o' that 'll nivir come t' the loikes av us. But would ye lind me the loan av a cuup o' tay? It's out o' tay I am and me nairves in that state! And the childer that crazy." \ (A crash on the stairs and screams of babe. Mrs. Murtagh rushes to the door and yells like a fog horn.) "Phwat air ye doin' up there? Gaw back in the room wid ye! If ye dhrop the babby over the bannister again I'll baste the skin av ye! Teddy, run up an' see phawt the spalpane Patsey is doin'." (Teddy pays no heed.) (Coming back to the centre calmly taking up her palaver.)

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"As I was sayin', ye've been s' kind to a poor (At this point she sees Alice Edwards entering with Walter Reeves and scuttles into kitchen left, looks out with a comical leer, slowly closing the door. Alice is a girl of twenty with a thoughtful face; she is dressed in a light-colored modish dress. She enters the room and turns, smiling faintly at Reeves who is talking to someone in the hall. Reeves is a handsome, alert man of thirty, dressed richly. His hair is pushed straight up from his forehead; he has a quizzical look about his eyes.)

Reeves (still looking into hall). "Pat, none o' y'r grinnin' now. It's the divil's own time I'd be havin' wid yez if y' lave anither banany-skin on the stairway." (Entering he takes Teddy by the nape of the neck.) "Two's company, Teddy, three's a crowd." Teddy (rebelliously). "W'y don't y' put her out?" (pointing at Linnie.)

Linnie. "O Teddy Murtagh. I guess -"

Reeves. "No words Teddy --no recriminations. along I think I smell y'r supper waitin' fer yeh "

Run

Linnie (who has whispered to Alice). "Oh, I'll go meet papa." (Runs out back.)

Reeves to Alice. "Eh, well! Privacy and tenement houses are mutually destructive terms. As a prying newspaper man, I'm getting a dose of my own medicine. They all take a great interest in my affairs."

(Alice smiles but faintly at his fun. She remains seated, eyes held down in thought.)

Reeves (sinking into a chair). "Another graduation recital would lay me out in the morgue. That tall girl who punished Schumann - well, let that pass and come back to the matter in hand. That's all you'll promise me, is it?"

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