are sure of an admiring audience, and, what is far better, chance to
use what they have learned, and to learn more, if they can once get a
platform on which to stand.

But how to get this platform, or how to make it of reasonably easy
access, is the difficulty. Plants of great vigor will almost always
struggle into blossom, despite impediments. But there should be
encouragement, and a free genial atmosphere for those of move timid
sort, fair play for each in its own kind. Some are like the little,
delicate flowers which love to hide in the dripping mosses, by the
sides of mountain torrents, or in the shade of tall trees. But others
require an open field, a rich and loosened soil, or they never show
their proper hues.

It may be said that Man does not have his fair play either; his
energies are repressed and distorted by the interposition of
artificial obstacles. Ay, but he himself has put them there; they have
grown out of his own imperfections. If there _is_ a misfortune in
Woman's lot, it is in obstacles being interposed by men, which do
_not_ mark her state; and, if they express her past ignorance, do
not her present needs. As every Man is of Woman born, she has slow but
sure means of redress; yet the sooner a general justness of thought
makes smooth the path, the better.

Man is of Woman born, and her face bends over him in infancy with an
expression he can never quite forget. Eminent men have delighted to
pay tribute to this image, and it is an hackneyed observation, that
most men of genius boast some remarkable development in the mother.
The rudest tar brushes off a tear with his coat-sleeve at the hallowed
name. The other day, I met a decrepit old man of seventy, on a