ring with their importunate chink, while thousands of great cattle repose beneath the shade of the British oak, chew the cud, and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the noise are the only inhabitants of the field; that, of course, they are many in number, or that, after all, they are other than the little, shrivelled, meagre, hopping, though loud and troublesome insects of the hour.’  I think, sir, that the noble and true women of this continent earnestly believe that the day which invests them with the elective franchise would be the blackest in the annals of humanity, would ring the death-knell of modern civilization, of national prosperity, social morality, and domestic happiness! and would consign the race to a night of degradation and horror infinitely more appalling than a return to primeval barbarism.”

“Even my brief sojourn in America has taught me the demoralizing tendency of the doctrine of ‘equality of races and of sexes,’ and you must admit, Miss Earl, that your countrywomen are growing dangerously learned,” answered Sir Roger, smiling.

“I am afraid, sir, that it is rather the quality than the quantity of their learning that makes them troublesome.  One of your own noble seers has most gracefully declared:  ’A woman may always help her husband,’ (or race,) ’by what she knows, however little; by what she half knows or misknows, she will only tease him.’”

Sir Roger bowed, and Mr. Manning said: 

“Very ‘true, good, and beautiful,’ as a mere theory in sociology, but in an age when those hideous hermaphrodites, ycleped ’strong-minded women,’ are becoming so alarmingly numerous, our eyes are rarely gladdened by a conjunction of highly cultivated intellects; notable, loving hearts; tender, womanly sensibilities.  Can you shoulder the anus probandi?”

“Sir, that rests with those who assert that learning renders women disagreeable and unfeminine; the burden of proof remains for you.”

“Permit me to lift the weight for you, Manning, by asking Miss Earl what she thinks of the comparative merits of the ‘Princess,’ and of ‘Aurora Leigh,’ as correctives of the tendency she deprecates?”

Hitherto the discussion had been confined to the trio, while the conversation was general, but now silence reigned around the table, and when the Englishman’s questions forced Edna to look up, she saw all eyes turned upon her; and embarrassment flushed her face, and her lashes drooped as she answered: 

“It has often been asserted by those who claim proficiency in the analysis of character, that women are the most infallible judges of womanly, and men of manly natures; but I am afraid that the poems referred to would veto this decision.  While I yield to no human being in admiration of, and loving gratitude to Mrs. Browning, and regard the first eight books of ‘Aurora Leigh’ as vigorous, grand and marvellously beautiful, I can not deny that a painful feeling of mortification seizes me when I read the