Towards evening the violet drooped, one by one her blossoms closed and her leaves shrivelled up, and the next day she was dead, but she lived still in the picture, and so was useful in the world.'

I like that,' said Robin.

'But what became of the nettle?' asked Daisy.

It made new soil,' said the old man, ' and that was useful, too.'

And the ivy?' said Robin.

'It lived and died, but it first told the violet and the nettle that they were of use in the world.'

BEATRICE STOCKTON.

THE ALPHABET'S WOOING.

ONE day all the Alphabet, longing to wed,
From their own merry homes with cheerfulness sped,
And travelled with haste to many a clime,

Each one a buxom young wife to find.

A merrily travelled to Afric's hot shore,

Where he found his fair Annie; he sought no more;
While B was content with Banbury Cross,
Where Bessie he found, and took by force.

C travelling in China staid a long time,
But Constance he found there singing this rhyme.
At bonnie Dunkirk D made Dora his wife,
Who promised to cherish him all through her life.
Sweet Edith's bright blue eyes and soft golden hair
Enticed E to linger in England so fair;

And F, who delighted in gay France to dwell,
Married Florence the French girl, and did very well.
In Germany G, whose wits were so slow,

Wedded Gretchen, who n'er from her own home would go.
Havre H found Helen the miller's fair daughter,
For whose sake he travelled through land and o'er water.
Poor I found it hard in hot India to stay,

But there he met Ida as bright as the day.

Sweet Janet charmed J's fantastical wishes,

Though dwelling in Jutland, washing the dishes.

You may all think it strange, but it's really quite true;
That at Keswick K paired off with Katherine the shrew.
In great smoky London blithe Lucy so gay

Helped L to remember the country in May.
M rightly deemed Margaret a pearl of great price,
So from Malvern he carried her sweet but precise.
At length bashful N dons his best cap and gown
And woes and wins Nelly from old Newport Town.
O, charmed with the brilliant success of the others,
At Oxford weds Olive, the joy of all mothers.
In Paris Pauline charms the fond heart of P,
And many folks came their gay wedding to see.
American Q loved Quendrida the beauty

At Quebec, where she promised to do him her duty.
A light-hearted girl was young Rosa so gay,

In Rome, when R asked her, she said him not Nay.'
In Spain S found Stella to brighten his life,
And every one said, 'What a dear little wife.'
Theresa, though living 'neath Turkey's hot sun,
Delighted tall T, a great lover of fun.
U asked Irish Una with many a fear,
But Ulster she left without even a tear.

To Venice, that home of romance and of song,
V followed his Violet before very long.
Great W's choice was the Welsh Wilhelmine,
Whom he loved in spite of being ugly and lean.
Said X, 'It's so very expensive to wed,
That on all married life, I look with much dread.'
Y wooed Yorkshire Yolande one bright summer day;
Said she, I will love you for ever and aye.'
Z's wife was named Zoe, from Zealand she came,'
And she was to be sure a proud haughty dame.

RUTH MAYHEW.

WOMEN DOCTORS.

"There is nothing new under the sun,' and the idea of there being women doctors is no exception to this rule, for women in olden times, and notably the Egyptian women, were doctors as well as nurses.

Everybody admits that nursing is pre-eminently a woman's office, a work for which she is peculiarly fitted: Is not doctoring a higher branch of the same work? Therefore, if a woman be so well adapted to the lower work, surely the higher is not beyond her reach. Not many years ago ladies never dreamt of going out as nurses, they only attended to their own sick at home: now, happily, there are many ladynurses in the hospitals. Seeing then that this plan has so admirably succeeded why not try the other?

People say that women have no nerve and no presence of mind, but there are woman like Miss Nightingale and Sister Dora to prove the contrary, the latter of whom, by the way, was as much doctor as nurse, and surely, was there not nerve and courage enough in her (besides other qualities such as decision and grand forgetfulness of self, which must always be present in the true doctor) when she saved the life of the child who was dying of diphtheria, in the manner related in Miss Lonsdale's book?

We know there are many women who have no courage like this: sometimes indeed it is not their fault.

But many things which we do not naturally possess may be trained up in us by care and perseverance, and there is no reason why courage and self-possession should be exceptions to this rule. It would be better if women did train themselves to meet emergencies in a better way than they generally do.

Women doctors are sorely wanted in India and Turkey. We hear ridiculous stories about the women of the harem, how, when they are ill, in order that the doctor may see their

tongues they poke them through a hole in a curtain, behind which they themselves stand hidden; or, they poke their arms through that he may feel their pulse, for on no account may they see him. We cannot help being amused when we imagine such a scene as this, but it can be no laughing matter to the poor wretches themselves: for to take a case of lung-disease (though happily for them such a thing is extremely rare), how can the doctor possibly ascertain the state of his patient's chest? Then again, when an operation is necessary, the poor victim must die because it cannot be performed. Till the Mahommedan becomes a Christian he will probably still keep his harem; can we withhold our help and see fellow-creatures die simply because we abhor the system under which they live? No-rather let lady doctors take pity on them.

We all have a talent for something, which talent we are meant to improve, and the best way to do most good in the world is to find out what our talent is and follow where it leads us. We talk of people having a talent for music, drawing, mathematics, &c.: are not common sense and clear-sightedness talents too? There are no two separate sets of talents, one for men another for women, and it follows that if some men possess talents needful for a doctor's work, some women must possess them too, therefore let them be made use of.

Besides this there are so many women in England who want employment, and there are so many who live comparatively useless lives, feeling that they were meant to do something greater but yet not being able to get anything to do: all men cannot teach, or write, or paint, neither can all women, and it is wrong to keep them back from any work for which they feel themselves fitted. Relieving human suffering is one of the very noblest ways of doing good, and there is no work which belongs so much to women.

There is a training school for women doctors in Henrietta Street, Brunswick Square, and more than seventy have passed through the course there. But anyone who commences the. study of medicine there and finds she cannot stand the hospital

work, can either be trained as a nurse or become a dispensing chemist, so that there is no need for her to go on striving to do what she really can not do.

It is a great thing to be a good nurse; it has often be said that it is the nurse who really cures the patient not the doctor, and an educated refined lady-nurse must have greater power of effecting a cure than the type of nurse we generally see, for mere attention to bodily wants is not all that is required when one is ill. Every new thing demands a fair trial—let us give it to women doctors; no one can say that as yet the movement has not been perfectly successful. Every true worker will admire Mrs. Anderson-no embryo doctor could follow worthier foot-marks.

ALICE LEWIS.

A SKETCH FROM A DIARY KEPT IN 1879.

THE 21st of July was a lovely morning, when our party of four started from the Hôtel du Nord at Cologne, to go up the Rhine. The night before we had dreamt of lovely maidens with golden hair, whose sweet singing had allured the fishermen to their destruction, and of virtuous youths saving maidens from dreadful dragons. When we were seated on board, and had unfastened our wraps, for the day was rather chilly, and bought the sentimental Legends of the Rhine,' we felt ourselves quite ready for all the romance of the day. Alas! how little romance there was to be in it! There seemed to be no end to the boxes of enormous dimensions which were being packed up on board. Just as I thought we were about to depart, there appeared on the horizon a something which I am afraid my feeble pen will never be able to describe adequately. It was like a rainbow out for a holiday; it was like a setting sun in winter; but when it came nearer, it turned