isfactory public appearance. She comes out of her trance
with a start on discovering that the car has passed her corner or is
about to pass it. All flurried, she arises and signals the conductor
that she is alighting here. From her air and her expression, we may
gather that, mentally, she holds him responsible for the fact that she
has been carried on beyond her proper destination.

The car having stopped, she makes her way to the rear platform and gets
off--gets off the wrong way. That is to say, she gets off with face
toward the rear. Thus is achieved a twofold result: She blocks the way
of anyone who may be desirous of getting aboard the car as she gets off
of it, and if the car should start up suddenly, before her feet have
touched the earth, or before her grip on the hand rail has been relaxed,
she will be flung violently down upon the back of her head.

From the time he is a small boy until he is in his dotage, a man swings
off a car, facing in the direction in which the car is headed. Then, a
premature turn of a wheel pitches him forward with a good chance to
alight upon his feet, whereas the same thing happening when he was
facing in the opposite direction would cause him to tumble over
backward, with excellent prospects of cracking his skull. But in
obedience to an immutable but inexplicable vagary of sex, a woman
follows the patently wrong, the obviously dangerous, the plainly awkward
system.

As the conductor rings the starting bell, he glances toward a man who is
riding on the rear platform.

"Kin you beat 'um?" says the conductor. "I ast you--kin you beat 'um?"

The man to whom he has put the question is a married man. Being in this
state of marriage he appreciates that the longer you live with them the
less able are you to fathom the workings of their minds with regard to
many of the simpler things of life. Speaking, therefore, from the
heights of his superior understanding, he says in reply:

"Oh, well, you know how women are!"

We know how women are. But nobody knows why they are as they are.

Please let me make myself clear on one point: As an institution, and as
individuals, I am for women. They constitute, and deservedly too, the
most popular sex we have. Since away back yonder I have been in favor
of granting them suffrage. For years I have felt it as a profound
conviction that the franchise should be expanded at one end and abridged
at the other--made larger to admit some of the women, made