over his
face. The effect is irresistible. They shriek for mercy. But they don't
get it. He is accompanied by his own manager, who starts with him for
the north to-night. This manager has no sinecure. I don't think Bill Nye
has ever been found in a depot ready to catch a train. So the manager
takes him to the station, puts him in the right car, gets him out of his
sleeping berth, takes him to the hotel, sees that he is behind the
platform a few minutes before the time announced for the beginning of
the lecture, and generally looks after his comfort. Bill is due in Ohio
to-morrow night, and leaves New York to-night by the Grand Central
Depot.

"Are you sure it's by the Grand Central?" he said to me.

"Why, of course, corner of Forty-second Street, a five or ten minutes'
ride from here."

You should have seen the expression on his face, as he drawled away:

"How--shall--I--get--there, I--wonder?"

* * * * *

This afternoon I paid a most interesting visit to several girls'
schools. The pupils were ordered by the head-mistress, in each case, to
gather in the large room. There they arrived, two by two, to the sound
of a march played on the piano by one of the under-mistresses. When
they had all reached their respective places, two chords were struck on
the instrument, and they all sat down with the precision of the best
drilled Prussian regiment. Then some sang, others recited little poems,
or epigrams--mostly at the expense of men. When, two years ago, I
visited the Normal School for girls in the company of the President of
the Education Board and Colonel Elliott F. Shepard, it was the
anniversary of George Eliot's birth. The pupils, one by one, recited a
few quotations from her works, choosing all she had written against man.

When the singing and the recitations were over, the mistress requested
me to address a few words to the young ladies. An American is used from
infancy to deliver a speech on the least provocation. I am not. However,
I managed to congratulate these young American girls on their charming
appearance, and to thank them for the pleasure they had afforded me.
Then two chords were struck on the piano and all stood up; two more
chords, and all marched off in double file to the sound of another
march. Not a smile, not a giggle. All these young girls, from sixteen to
twenty, looked at me with modesty, but complete self-assurance,
certainly with far more assurance than I