as his female predecessor was wont to do--but literally. However, I'm
not going to discuss the servant-girl question. That is an old story
and a painful one--almost as painful as the mannish woman.

"This fearful and wonderful product of American progressiveness--this
worst type of monomaniac (man-o-maniac, one might more appropriately
term her) is driving men to drink. The mother-in-law is a thing of
beauty and a joy forever, compared to the mannish woman; the female
book-agent takes on new lustre and even the poetess is a desirable
companion beside her. The mannish woman wears a coat and vest and--no,
she doesn't wear trousers, because she doesn't dare, but a vertical
strip of braid down the middle of her skirt suggests the effect. From
a distance you couldn't distinguish between her and a man to save your
life, for her hat, shirt-bosom, collar and tie are the real thing.
She has pockets in her skirt, one on each side, and, sometimes at
the club, she puts her hands in them and, with arms akimbo, admires
herself in the glass. At the club also she does other things to
show how independent she is. She slaps her friend on the back with
a 'Hello, Gertie. How's tricks?' and orders a glass of soda-lemonade
with a cherry in it. She wouldn't take a man's arm for the world,
which is perhaps fortunate, for she seldom gets a chance. But she
likes to talk to a man about the races and exhibit her knowledge of
baseball slang.

"A friend of mine has an elderly sister who is a mannish woman.
Contrary to the popular belief, she never borrows his neckties or
collars, but perhaps this may be accounted for by the fact that Fred
is rather stout in the neck and seldom wears a tie. She got him to tie
a four-in-hand for her one day. Fred used to be a sea-captain in his
early days and, although he could make all kinds of splices with a