to live, in purity and truth and courage, a life of love to God and to man; striving to make every spot where we dwell, every region to which our influence can extend God’s Kingdom, where His Will shall be done on earth as it is done in heaven.”

Some time after the delivery of these addresses when the Primrose League was in full activity I wrote at the request of the Committee of the Women’s Suffrage Association a circular-letter to the “Dames” (of whom I am one) begging them to endeavour to make the granting of votes to women a “plank” in their platform. I received many friendly letters in reply—but the men who influenced the League, apparently finding that they could make the Dames do their political work for them without votes, discouraged all movement in the desired direction, and I do not suppose that anything was gained by my attempt.

My last effort on behalf of women was to read a paper on Women’s Duty to Women at the Conference of Women workers held at Birmingham in Nov., 1890. This address was received with such exceeding kindness and sympathy by my audience that the little event has left very tender recollections which I am glad to carry with me.

I will record here two paragraphs which I should like to leave as my last appeal on behalf of my sex.

“It may be an open question whether any individual woman suffers more severely in body or mind than any individual man. There are some who say that all our passions matched with theirs

A sentiment, which I am happy to tell you, Lord Tennyson has angrily disclaimed as his own, declaring that he only ‘put it into the mouth of an impatient fool.’ But that our whole sex together suffers more physical pain, more want, more grief, than the other, is not, I think, open to doubt. Even if we put aside the poor Chinese women maimed from infancy, the Hindoo women against whose cruel wrongs their noble countryman, Malabari, has just been pleading so eloquently in London,—if we put these and all the other prisoners of Eastern Harems, and miserable wives of African and Australian savages out of question, and think only of the comparatively free and happy women of Christendom, how much more liable to suffering, if not always actually condemned to suffer, is the life of women! ‘To be weak is to be miserable,’ and we are weak; always comparatively to our companions, and weak often, absolutely, and in reference to the wants we must supply, the duties we must perform. Now, it seems to me that just in proportion as any one is possessed of strength of mind or of body, or of wealth or influence, so far it behoves him, or her, to turn with sympathy and tender helpfulness to the weakest and most forlorn of God’s creatures, whether it be man or woman or child, or even brute. The weight of the claim is in exact ratio of the feebleness and helplessness and misery of the claimant.

“Thus, then, I would sum up the counsels which I am presuming to offer to you. You will all remember the famous line of Terence, at which the old Roman audience rose in a tumult of applause: ‘I am a Man—nothing human is alien to me.’ I would have each of you add to this in an emphatic way. ‘Mulier sum. Nihil muliebre a me alienum puto.’ ‘I am a woman. Nothing concerning the interests of women is alien to me.’ Take the sorrows, the wants, the dangers (above all the dangers) of our sisters closely to heart, and, without ceasing to interest yourself in charities having men and boys for their objects, recognise that your earlier care should be for the weakest, the poorest, those whose dangers are worst of all—for, (after all) ruin can only drive a Man to the workhouse; it may drive a woman to perdition! Think of all the weak, the helpless, the wronged women and little children, and the harmless brutes; and save and shield them as best you can; even as the mother-bird will shelter and fight for her little helpless fledgelings. This is the natural field of feminine courage. Then, when you have found your work, whatever it be, give yourself to it with all your heart, and make the resolution in God’s sight never to go to your rest leaving a stone unturned which may help your aims. Half-and-half charity does very little good to the objects; and is a miserable, slovenly affair for the workers. And when the end comes and the night closes in, the long, last night of earth, when no man can work any more in this world, your milk-and-water, half-hearted charities will bring no memories of comfort to you. They are not so many ‘good works’ which you can place on the credit side of your account, in the mean, commercial spirit taught by some of the churches. Nay, rather they are only solemn evidences that you knew your duty, knew you might do good, and did it not, or did it half-heartedly! What a thought for those last days when we know ourselves to be going home to God, God—whom at bottom after all, we have loved and shall love for ever;—that we might have served Him here, might have blessed his creatures, might have done His will on earth as it is done in Heaven, but we have let the glorious chance slip by us for ever.”