I remember Mrs.Herbert of Vauxhall telling a very fashionable audience how on one occasion she had to rebuke a young man moving in the first London society for using some contemptuous expression with regard to women, and was led to appeal very earnestly to him to reverence all women for his mother's sake.

He turned upon her with a sort of divine rage and said: "I long to reverence women, but the girls I meet with in society won't let me.

They like me to make free with them; they like me to talk to them about doubtful subjects, and they make me"-- and he ground his teeth as he said it--"what I just hate myself for being." Alas! alas! can sadder words knell in a woman's ears than these?
But side by side with this desecrating womanhood there rises up before me the vision of a young girl, not English, nor American, but French--now a mature woman, with girls and boys of her own, but who in her young days was the very embodiment of all that I have been urging that our girls might become to their brothers.

She was a daughter of the great French preacher, Frederick Monod, and had an only brother who was all in all to her.

She knew enough of the evil of the world to know that a medical student in Paris was exposed to great temptations; and she was resolved, so far as she could, to make her womanhood a crystal shield between him and them.