alm, clear eyes and
placid face evinced no disturbing emotions.

"Will you join our ranks?" demanded Mrs. Lawson, "and aid us in rending
the fetters forged on woman's wrists by the tyrant man?"

"No!" said Louise, in a quiet but determined tone.

"Then you do not believe in Woman's Rights!" said Mrs. Lawson, half her
enthusiasm falling off and leaving her coarse features blank and bare.

"O, yes!" answered Louise, her face brightening as she spoke, "I believe
in Woman's Rights with all my heart and soul. Yet not in crowds, and
camps, and forums, where swarming multitudes are jostling to and fro;
and brawls, and shouts, and loud harangues make tumult in the air, do I
believe she finds her proper sphere. Not in halls of legislation, or
among empannelled juries, or yet within the sacred desk, would I behold
the form of woman. No, no! what sight so revolting to a refined
soul--whether it dwell in male or female bosom--as unsexed womanhood,
booted and spurred, parading over rostrums, brawling in debates, and
spouting sophistical sentiments on subjects of whose true signification
they are as ignorant as an idiot of the laughter and derision his babble
excites? O, 'tis woman's thrice-beautiful right to relieve and succor
the care-worn and distressed, wherever on this goodly earth they fall
within the circle of her sphere and influence! To give sweet,
unobtrusive charities to the children of want! By gentle words of
sympathy and hope, to raise and cheer the drooping souls of her erring
sisters; and in dim-lighted rooms, where restless disease tosses on
couches of pain and agony, 'tis hers to move with noiseless tread, to
smooth the pillow, bathe the brow, and give the healing potion! Say not
her sphere is limited, her influence small, her mission low, or her
rights unacknowledged."

Louise rose as she proceeded, her face glowing with the sentiments she
uttered. Mrs. Lawson stood before her, moving backwards gradually, till
she finally receded through the open door, took to the street, and was
seen no more in the home of Louise Edson.

CHAPTER XXII.

"Babies are very well when they don't cry,
But when they do, I choose not to be nigh;
For of all awful sounds that can appal,
The most terrific is a baby's squall;
I'd rather hear a panther's hungry howl,
Or e'en a tiger's deep, ferocious growl,
Than