ldhood ever knew,
and hastens to their rescue with brave and inspiring words?

To draw the line which separates the right and wrong of other people's
actions, is always a difficult, if not an impossible thing, and yet it
is what almost everybody attempts. It is right, say some, for a woman
to instruct her own family in Biblical knowledge, and she may even
invite the children of her neighbour to be present while she does so.
But if the little social gathering should become a congregation, so
that, instead of meeting in the lady's own room, it should be necessary
to borrow a mission-hall or a chapel, then even her friends shake their
heads, and bring the blush to her face by suggesting that she is doing
an unwomanly thing. It is right and proper that she should know so
much of medicine as to be able successfully to doctor her own children.
Nor is she all that she ought to be unless she can tell, in an
emergency, what is best for her husband, and many of the poor who may
seek her advice. But if the joy of healing prove a fascination and a
snare to her, and in order that she may not be a burden to father or
brother, or to enable her to provide for orphan children left to her
care, she endeavours to enter the medical profession, and receive money
for her services, what a terrible hue-and-cry is raised against her.

The Lord Jesus Christ once uttered a very high eulogium upon a woman,
against whom words of bitter blame and indignation were spoken. There
was a supper at the house of Simon, the Leper, and to him was given the
honour of entertaining a Guest who was not only royal, but divine.
There were also present three members of a family who owed the Saviour
life-long thanks for benefits received. One of them, a woman, whose
name was Mary, felt so burdened that she could not let so good an
opportunity pass without in some way expressing her emotions. She
therefore brought a very expensive gift, an alabaster box of precious
ointment, and, breaking the box, she poured the ointment on the head
and feet of Jesus, thus performing a graceful act of womanly
ministration. It was uncommon in some respects, and this of itself was
sufficient to draw down upon her the scathing rebuke of the
unsympathetic on-lookers. "Why was this waste of the ointment made?
It might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have
been given to the poor. And they murmured against her." But He, who
is always woman's best friend, took