I had the pleasure one day to meet on the horse-car an advocate of one of the great reforms of the day. He held a green bag upon his knees, and without any notice passed from a question of crops to a discussion of suffrage for the negro, and so to womanhood suffrage. “Let the women vote,” said he,--“let 'em vote if they want to. _I_ don't care. Fact is, I should like to see 'em do it the first time. They're excitable, you know; they're excitable;” and he enforced his analysis of female character by thrusting his elbow sharply into my side. “Now, there's my wife; I'd like to see her vote. Be fun, I tell you. And the girls,--Lord, the girls! Circus wouldn't be anywhere.” Enchanted with the picture which he appeared to have conjured up for himself, he laughed with the utmost relish, and then patting the green bag in his lap, which plainly contained a violin, “You see,” he went on, “I go out playing for dancing-parties. Work all day at my trade,--I'm a carpenter,--and play in the evening. Take my little old ten dollars a night. And _I_ notice the women a good deal; and _I_ tell you they're _all_ excitable, and _I sh'd_ like to see 'em vote. Vote right and vote often,--that's the ticket, eh?” This friend of womanhood suffrage--whose attitude of curiosity and expectation seemed to me representative of that of a great many thinkers on the subject--no doubt was otherwise a reformer, and held that the coming man would not drink wine--if he could find whiskey. At least I should have said so, guessing from the odors he breathed along with his liberal sentiments. Something of the character of a college-town is observable nearly always in the presence of the students, who confound certain traditional ideas of students by their quietude of costume and manner, and whom Padua or Heidelberg would hardly know, but who nevertheless betray that they are banded to-- “Scorn delights and live laborious days,”