ectable young women, living alone in their city flats, sit
up late and talk to men that are interesting enough to keep them awake.
I am quite sure that were I young in these emancipated times I should
take full advantage of them. And emancipated is what we pretend to
be--although the word itself is somewhat outmoded; a healthy sign,
proving that we are no longer labelled. And if that does not mean
personal liberty, freedom from the old ridiculous restrictions that
were an insult to womanhood itself, what does it mean? It is a part of
our mission to make woman as free and independent and happy as men, and
without the slightest danger to the old high moral standards; for no
woman that has had it in her to go wrong ever waited for the permission
of her own sex. We are, in fact, we Club Women, the great sieve that
separates the wheat from the chaff; the chaff has no more use for us
than we have for it, and we are too wise in our own sex to waste any
time on it. The women that were born to be the playthings of men are in
a class apart--to be dealt with, to be sure, by Societies organized for
and experienced in that purpose; and we have not even considered them in
the stupendous effort we have made to secure the freedom of the higher
order of women from the old miserable social thralldoms. And what we
have accomplished is historic.

"I have seen extraordinary changes in my time. When I was young a woman
was an old maid at twenty-five. There was no appeal. To-day there are no
old maids. Twenty years ago, in that old exclusive set of San Francisco
led by Mrs. Yorba, Mrs. Montgomery, and for a little while by poor Mary
Belmont, it was almost unheard of for a girl of the better class to walk
alone on the street. If a man joined her the city fermented. Now, what
with the influx of all these new people, the social laws have been
modified to such an extent that my old friends must turn in their
graves; although, of course, and very properly, a certain amount of
chaperonage for young society girls is still demanded. But it is a mere
harness of flowers, worn as a sort of a joke for most of the people in
society to-day have flown upward on happy golden wings from strata
where as much was known of chaperons as the American newspapers know
about handling British titles. But, for my part, I find the whole change
a vast improvement. Nothing could be duller than a girl's life in my
time. And if society--the world of mere fashion--has broaden