but it can never be the noblest aim of all. Why is the memory of Mrs. Browning loved beyond that of almost any poet who has sung? Because “the cry of the human” is so strong in that wondrous voice of hers. Why is the name carved deepest on the republic’s heart that of its martyr President? Because he gave their manhood back to four millions of slaves, and lived and toiled for his people’s sake, “with malice toward none, with charity for all.” Why was the lamentation well nigh universal when under the sea flashed the telegraphic message, “John Stuart Mill is dead?” Because this quiet thinker lived for other men; because he “struck out from the center,” from himself, that pitiful pivot on which so many human wind-mills turn, and measured, in the swift flight of its benignant thought, the long radius between him and the remotest circle of human need; because, more than any other philosopher of his day, he labored for the time when “all men’s weal shall be each man’s care.” Nay, while I mourn, as I have seldom mourned for an historic character, the cloud that early dimmed, for Stuart Mill, the Star of Bethlehem, I will not, as a woman, withhold from his memory the tribute of my humble gratitude. But while I speak of all these lives, shining like beacon lights of our own day, I would not fail to point you in conclusion toward a wide-armed cross upon a lonely hillside, while I repeat his words who said, “And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.” Dear girls, CHRIST is the magnet of humanity, and she has found the best vocation, and the highest, who brings most souls diseased within the healing power of his immortal gospel. This is a work for which women have gifts preëminent. The Saxon word for lady means “a giver of bread,” and is full of beautiful significance, but America’s new century shall evolve another meaning, freighted with greater blessing for humanity: lady, giver of the bread of life! In later years we have had a revelation of our duty to the ungospeled masses, the “elbow heathen,” as an evangelist has called them, to the intemperate (who, as a rule, are quite beyond the hearing of the pulpit’s voice), and to the dusky dwellers in the Zenana, whose faces are misty with the unshed tears of generations passed in misery and shame. Two thirds of the Church of Christ are women. By the freer life and richer opportunity which you and I enjoy; by society’s growing tolerance, not to say its kindly appreciation, of our activities; by the heart transformed and the peace imparted through the gospel, the voice of our Redeemer pleads for our consecrated service. I would not undervalue the culture of the intellect, but would exalt the culture of the heart.