Miss Ethel Hammond was on an investigating tour. At this particular minute she belonged in a wide white crib rolled into the coolest, shadiest corner of the northwestern veranda, eyes closed, lovely face shaded from intruding bugs and flies by a network of delicate creamy lace, and Jennette, the nurse, within easy range of the treasure. Where Jennette was just now, was not apparent, but Miss Ethel was certainly not in her crib. Her eyes were very wide open, and she had the room to herself. By dint of much energy, she had succeeded in pulling one of the heavy chairs before the object of her most intense desire, and, climbing in, was in the act of leaning forward to grasp it, when Mrs. Hammond opened the door. “It” was a rare and wonderfully mounted clock, heavy enough to put Ethel’s busy inquiring brain at rest forever, should the strong little hands succeed in pulling it over on her; or, failing in that, should she lose her balance and pitch head-first against the corner of the cruel marble. No time for exclamations; rather, enough presence of mind to avoid them. With swift, silent steps she moved across the room; a long room, and seeming to the startled mother miles long, just then. A moment more and she had the wide-awake, energetic, struggling, disappointed baby in her arms. So near to its life-purpose only to be thwarted! The first thing the mother did, was to kiss Ethel; though her mouth was wide open, and from it were issuing loud, disappointed yells. The next thing was to think aloud: “That is as much confidence as I was afraid I could place in Jennette. She is good for ruffling, and tucking, and ironing the baby’s dresses, but not for watching her.” The next was to say within her heart, “I should think _she_ might be able to help keep a baby out of mischief.” But this last thought was not about Jennette. SOME REMARKABLE WOMEN. S.—SMITH, MRS. HANNAH WHITALL. [Illustration: B]ORN and reared in a Quaker home, educated in a Quaker school, and for many years holding her membership in the sect known by that name, Mrs. Smith has been characterized as “a Friend indeed.” Of her father and herself, this has been said: “He was a bright, cheery, joyous, yet Cromwellian soldier, clapped by mistake under the broad brim of a Quaker, but this extinguisher was never able to hide his gladsome piety, and the daughter is her father over again.” Her husband is a partner in the firm of Whitall, Tatum & Co. And just here I want to tell you something which I learned the other day regarding the temperance principles of this firm. Their business is the manufacture of white glass; theirs being the largest establishment of the kind in the world. So consistent and loyal to the cause of temperance are these men, that no orders for glass ware are accepted from men who will use the bottles and glasses for rum in any of its guises!