GIRL GRADUATES.

At the Social Science Congress, says a writer in a recent English periodical, the other day, a learned man speaking of education versus health, described in the most earnest language the sorrow and dismay he experienced after visiting the colleges of Newnham and Girton.

"Such women as I saw there," he said gravely, "will never be mothers of heroes." The history of the coming generation may be forshadowed in that brief sentence.

I lately met a successfull Girl Graduate, and melancholy indeed was the impression she made upon me. She had passed the examinations with the highest honors, and she was pointed out to me as a perfect marvel of knowledge, a walking encyclopeadia of buried languages.

"How old is she ?" I inquired.

"Just twenty-four."

Only twenty-four ! I should have thought her at least forty. Pale and sallow, lanky and awkward, with straight hair cut short and put back from a high forehead on which there were already many wrinkles, she looked a plain, unhealthy woman, her shoulders had the student's stoop, and her movements were constrained and full of gaucherie. She was careless, almost slovenly in her dress; but I mentally excused all this in her feeling sure that her concersation would be brilliant enough to make amends for all her other shortcomings. But what was my surprise when I found that she had scarcely anything to say for herself. Her conversation consisted almost of monosyllables. There was some little discussion concerning music going on around us, and after the ceremony of introduction and the first few words of greeting had passed between us, I asked :

"Are you fond of music ?"

The Girl Graduate looked at the carpet and nervously twiddled her thumbs. "Ye-es," she replied at last, with hesitation. "At least-that is-I don't mind it much."

Ah, I suppose." I continued, "that you think no music equal to the rush and swing of Homer's Iliad ?"

She stared vacantly at me. and seemed puzzled. Finally she gave me a faint smile and said half confidentially, "O, you musn't think I care for Homer so much. Of course when I 'went in' for classics, I had to read him a good deal, and so had the other girls, but I don't think any of us cared much about it. As long as we could get through it somehow and pass, the rest didn't matter."

It was my turn to be puzzled now. I looked earnestly at the sallow young lady before me, and feeling a little curious as to the result of my next question, I said :

"And what are you going to do, now that you have taken your degree?"

"Oh, I don't know, I am at home at present."

"Yes." I said ; 'but are you going to adopt any profession ? Are you going to teach, or start a school, or pratice any particular calling ?"

"Oh. I don't know." (This with a deep sigh and smothered yawn.) "You see, I am at home just now."

And no more information could I get from her.