society puts in
an evening devoted to the discussion of this question. Please let me
know when it will occur, as I would like to be there.

_Etiquette, Chicago, Ill._, asks: "Will you answer through the columns
of the _Daily News_ what remedy you would prescribe for the great
nuisance while traveling of being compelled to wait all the forenoon for
the female fiend who monopolizes one end of the sleeping car half of the
time and the other end of the car the other half. I am a lady, and
nothing tends to discourage my efforts in trying to continue such like
this constant contact with the average female brute who bolts herself
into the ladies' dressing room in a sleeper and remains there all the
forenoon calcimining her purple nose and striving to beautify her
chaotic features. Do tell us what you would suggest."

That is a question I have been called upon to settle before, but I am
still worrying over it. I do not think we ought to fritter away our time
on the tariff and other remote matters until we have, once for all, met
and settled this vital question which lies so near to every heart.

I have seen a large woman take her teeth in one hand and a shawl-strap
full of hair in the other and adjourn to the ladies' dressing room at
Camp Douglas and finally emerge therefrom, with a smooch of prepared
chalk over each eye, at Winona. All that time half a dozen ladies in the
car gnawed their under lips and tried to look happy. I have known a
timid young lady to lose her breakfast because this same ogress, with
bristles along the back of her neck, as usual moved into the
dressing-room and lived there till the train reached its destination and
the dining-car was detached.

Some day this dressing-room will be made on the plan of a large
concertina, operated by means of clockwork, and after this venerable
hyena has laundered herself and primped and beautified and upholstered
herself and waxed her mustache, and insulted the plate-glass mirror for
an hour or two by constantly compelling it to reflect her features, the
walls of the apartment will gradually approach each other, and when that
woman is removed she will look like the battle of Gettysburg.

MR. SWEENEY'S CAT.

Robert Ormsby Sweeney is a druggist of St. Paul; and though a recent
chronological record reveals the fact that he is a direct descendant of
a sure-enough king, and though there is mighty good purple, royal blood
in his veins that dates back where kings u