Nothing since Artemus Ward and his wife’s relations has been finer than the generous way in which fathers and brothers disclaim all desire for profits or honors on the part of their feminine relatives.  In a certain system of schools once known to me, the boys had prizes of money on certain occasions, but the successful girls at those times received simply a testimonial of honor for each; “the committee being convinced,” it was said, “that this was more consonant with the true delicacy and generosity of woman’s nature.”  So in the new arrangements for opening the University of Copenhagen to young women, Karl Blind writes to the New York “Evening Post,” that it is expressly provided that they shall not “share in the academic benefices and stipends which have been set apart for male students.”  Half of these charities may, for aught that appears, have been established originally by women, like the American scholarships already mentioned.  Women, however, can avail themselves of them only by deputy, as the Alp-climbing young lady is represented by her dog.

It is all a beautiful tribute to the disinterestedness of woman.  The only pity is that this virtue, so much admired, should not be reciprocated by showing the like disinterestedness toward her.  It does not appear that the butchers and bakers of Copenhagen propose to reduce in the case of women students “the benefices and stipends” which are to be paid for daily food.  Young ladies at the university are only prohibited from receiving money, not from needing it.  Nor will any of the necessary fatigues of Alpine climbing be relaxed for any young lady because she is a woman.  The fatigues will remain in full force, though the laurels be denied.  The mountain-passes will make small account of the “tenderness and delicacy of her sex.”  When the toil is over she will be regarded as too delicate to be thanked for it; but, by way of compensation, the Alpine Club will allow her to be represented by her dog.

THE GOSPEL OF HUMILIATION

“The silliest man who ever lived,” wrote Fanny Fern once, “has always known enough, when he says his prayers, to thank God he was not born a woman.”  President ——­ of ——­ College is not a silly man at all, and he is devoting his life to the education of women; yet he seems to feel as vividly conscious of his superior position as even Fanny Fern could wish.  If he had been born a Jew, he would have thanked God, in the appointed ritual, for not having made him a woman.  If he had been a Mohammedan, he would have accepted the rule which forbids “a fool, a madman, or a woman” to summon the faithful to prayer.  Being a Christian clergyman, with several hundred immortal souls, clothed in female bodies, under his charge, he thinks it his duty, at proper intervals, to notify his young ladies, that, though they may share with men the glory of being sophomores, they still are in a position, as regards the other sex, of hopeless subordination.  This is the climax of his discourse, which in its earlier portions contains many good and truthful things:—­