has recently rescued quite
large finches from the Mygale, and poisoned himself with its saliva in
preparing them for his cabinet.

I do not know how many years Madame Baring, the mother of the great
banker, has been dead. It is only recently that I have ascertained
that to her prudence, activity, and business habits, the family
attribute the sure foundation of their habits. Matthew Baring came to
Larkbeare, near Exeter, from Bremen. His wife superintended in his
day, the long rows of "burlers," or women who picked over the woolen
cloth he made. Her sons, John and Francis, sought a wider field for
the fortune their father left, but did not forget to erect a monument
to their mother's industry.

When I first investigated the labor of woman, I was told that the
great manufacturing interest, represented by the button factories at
Easthampton, Mass., had its origin in the persevering industry of a
woman. Last summer I went personally to see the factories and their
proprietor, and it was a pleasant surprise to find the woman of whom I
had heard still living. Samuel Williston told me that he did not
usually gratify the curiosity of his visitors, but added that if I
thought it would be any stimulus to the industry of other women, he
should be glad to tell me the story. About forty years ago he had been
an unsuccessful speculator in Merino sheep, and his wife strained
every nerve to help her family. On going one day to the country store
for a supply of knitting, she expressed so much disappointment on
being told that there was none for her, that a tailor in the
establishment asked her if she would cover some buttons for him. She
soon found that certain kinds of buttons were in steady demand. They
were then made wholly by hand. She provided herself with materials,
took the farmers' daughters for apprentices, and her husband went to
Boston, Hartford, and New York to solicit orders. From this small
beginning arose one of the most lucrative industries of Massachusetts.

About a year since Eliza W. Farnham laid down her weary head. I did
not know her, nor did I sympathize in her theories. They were
sustained by her imagination rather than her reason; by her impulses
rather than any practical judgment. No moral superiority can justly be
conferred on either sex of a being possessed of intellect and
conscience. God has conferred no such superiority; yet I gladly name
Mrs. Farnham here as a woman whose life--a bitter disappointment to