joyed the carpenter work immensely and
became very deft in the use of tools.

On November 1, 1887, we reached Basingstoke once more, and found all
things in order. My diary tells of several books I read during the
winter and what the authors say of women; one the "Religio Medici," by
Sir Thomas Browne, M.D., in which the author discourses on many high
themes, God, Creation, Heaven, Hell, and vouchsafes one sentence on
woman. Of her he says: "I was never married but once and commend their
resolution who never marry twice, not that I disallow of second, nor in
all cases of polygamy, which, considering the unequal number of the
sexes, may also be necessary. The whole world was made for man, but the
twelfth part of man for woman. Man is the whole world--the breath of
God; woman the rib and crooked piece of man. I speak not in prejudice
nor am averse from that sweet sex, but naturally amorous of all that is
beautiful. I can look all day at a handsome picture, though it be but a
horse."

Turning to John Paul Friedrich Richter, I found in his chapter on woman
many equally ridiculous statements mixed up with much fulsome
admiration. After reading some volumes of Richter, I took up Heinrich
Heine, the German poet and writer. He said: "Oh, the women! We must
forgive them much, for they love much and many. Their hate is, properly,
only love turned inside out. Sometimes they attribute some delinquency
to us, because they think they can, in this way, gratify another man.
When they write they have always one eye on the paper and the other eye
on some man. This is true of all authoresses except the Countess Hahn
Hahn, who has only one eye." John Ruskin's biography he gives us a
glimpse of his timidity in regard to the sex, when a young man. He was
very fond of the society of girls, but never knew how to approach them.
He said he "was perfectly happy in serving them, would gladly make a
bridge of himself for them to walk over, a beam to fasten a swing to for
them--anything but to talk to them." Such are some of the choice
specimens of masculine wit I collected during my winter's reading!

At a reception given to me by Drs. Julia and Kate Mitchell, sisters
practicing medicine in London, I met Stepniak, the Russian Nihilist, a
man of grand presence and fine conversational powers. He was about to go
to America, apprehensive lest our Government should make an extradition
treaty with Russia to return political offenders, as he knew that