these complacent hills and watched the poor Mississippi
weeping as she swept along, to lose her sorrows in ocean's depths, I
thought how like the attitude of man to woman. Let these proud hills
remember that they, too, slumbered for centuries in deep valleys down,
down, when, perchance, the sparkling Mississippi rolled above their
heads, and but for some generous outburst, some upheaval of old Mother
Earth, wishing that her rock-ribbed sons, as well as graceful daughters,
might enjoy the light, the sunshine and the shower--but for this soul of
love in matter as well as mind--these bluffs and the sons of Adam, too,
might not boast the altitude they glory in to-day. Those who have ears
to hear discern low, rumbling noises that foretell convulsions in our
social world that may, perchance, in the next upheaval, bring woman to
the surface; up, up, from gloomy ocean depths, dark caverns, and damper
valleys. The struggling daughters of earth are soon to walk in the
sunlight of a higher civilization.

Escorted by Mr. Woodward, a member of the bar, I devoted a day to the
lions of La Crosse. First we explored the courthouse, a large, new brick
building, from whose dome we had a grand view of the surrounding
country. The courtroom where justice is administered was large, clean,
airy--the bench carpeted and adorned with a large, green, stuffed chair,
in which I sat down, and, in imagination, summoned up advocates, jurors,
prisoners, and people, and wondered how I should feel pronouncing
sentence of death on a fellow-being, or, like Portia, wisely checkmating
the Shylocks of our times. Here I met Judge Hugh Cameron, formerly of
Johnstown. He invited us into his sanctum, where we had a pleasant chat
about our native hills, Scotch affiliations, the bench and bar of New
York, and the Wisconsin laws for women. The Judge, having maintained a
happy bachelor state, looked placidly on the aggressive movements of
the sex, as his domestic felicity would be no way affected, whether
woman was voted up or down.

We next surveyed the Pomeroy building, which contained a large,
tastefully finished hall and printing establishment, where the La Crosse
_Democrat_ was formerly published. As I saw the perfection, order, and
good taste, in all arrangements throughout, and listened to Mr. Huron's
description of the life and leading characteristics of its chief, it
seemed impossible to reconcile the tone of the _Democrat_ with the moral
status of its edi