In the days of our great grandmothers; and even into the times of our grandmothers, woman certainly had a sphere, or orbit, or towpath, or tread way, fixed by imperious custom, in which she not only might walk free from carping criticism, but in which she must walk, at the peril of her fair name, and out of which she might not step with out starting the wagging tongues of the Mr. or Mrs. or Miss Grundies from Dan to Beersheba. When she finished her studies, and looked about her for new worlds to conquer, life opened before her, in very much such a vista as she would have, were she at the bottom of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. Such a view of life might be, grand; but it was woefully narrow. She might look up, to her hearts content, but she could not walk far abroad; for waves as high, and apparently, as unscalable as man and his satanic majisty, in fraternal colaboration, could erect, restrained, her vagrant steps with a "Thus far, shalt thou go, and no further." In this contracted way of life, she had as many choices of a career, as there are said to be styles of domestic architecture among the mongols. If she was "shy" of this worlds goods, she could take upon her self the sweet and lofty duties of a domestic drudge, in which she would have undisputed opportunity to cultivate all her gifts and graces - especially those that pointed towards industry, economy and completest self abnegation. If she was the pampered pet of plutocracy, she could pass as a patern of the latest fashion in dress and manners, and look pretty - or as pretty as she coud - and she coud flit from one scene to another among the platitudes, the inanities, the stupidities, the vulgarities, the soul-searing sins, of so called society, till, reft of brain and brawn, of conscience, character and worth; the body, which might have been the abode of a saintly soul, sinks back to the soil, from which it sprung, unwept, unhonored and unsung. From these undesirable facts there were, always, two possible escapes; the one, an early demise; the other, the finding of a lord and master who, in return for what she was supposed to bring him, was willing to set her over a home of her own, where, second to him, she might rule supreme, and add a strict and careful observance of the views and wishes, not to say whims of the aforesaid lord and master. Such is a realistic, if somewhat cynical view of the sphere of woman, only a short half century ago, even in free America. But what a change! what a happy change! The narrow, gloomy canyon of the Colorado, which fully symbolizes the life of a woman in the past has given way to the sweetness, health, and beauty of the broad Miss. valley of privilege and opportunity; and wide and alluring vistas, invite to as many varied careers as the mind of man has ever devised or dreamed of. In the West, booted and spurred, under her broad sombrero, she mounts her bucking broncho, lariat in hand, and with wild huzzah and cow-boy abandon, she may chase the refractory steer into submission. All over the country, she has long since chased the men so completely out of the school-room that for almost a generation, the teachers appropriate, professional title is "She." Counterhoppers used to be the readily understood designation of clerks in a dry-goods store, at a time when men only occupied those positions; but as women have largely displaced men here, too, and skirts and present customs are not conducive to the former ready method of getting into position behind the counter, upon the sudden call of an unexpected customer, that term has passed into inocuous desuetude and the counterhopper, like the grasshopper (we trust) is destined to retire completely before the progress of civilization. Thus, little by little, under the relentless law of the survival of the fittest, the weaker sex, disabled by self sufficiency, and self indulgence are retiring from the contest, and, woman, strong and virile from a thousand generations of patient labor, self mastery, and indomitable courage, is coming to her own. She is crowding into, honoring, filling to the full, and enlarging every calling, from College President to policeman; from land agent, to clergy man; from lawyer to laborer; from trained nurse, to surgeon; from the head of the house, to maid of all work. She is bank-president, merchant, farmer, editor, sculptor, reporter, lawyer, lobyist, fisher-man, hunts-man at least for trifling foreign counts and a thousand other things. Indeed her employments are so multitudinous and varied, where pluck and push are necessary to make good, that it would be an easier task to tell what she does not do that to enumerate what she does. She doesnt loaf; she dosent swear; she dosent use tobacco; she dosent spend her evenings away from home; she dosent poison the atmosphere of assembly rooms with the hateful fumes of pipe or cigarette; she dosent crowd to over flowing the wards of our prison and reformatories; and she dosent do her proportional part of the things that call out the ambulance and the Dr. There is just one thing that she dosent do that she wants to do, and means to do, and probably will do very soon - that is the right to vote, and to have her vote counted. She is taxed and vexed and enumerated in the Census, like other people, and she means to have a voice in selecting the hand that buffets and bruises her. She resents being classed with idiots, lunatics and Indians, and she means to have her rights on this vital point recognized, or know the reason why, and the legal male mind had better sit up and take notice. This is the bachelor-maid's view of the subject, and from her point of view things often look this way; but so long as Mother Home and Heaven sound so much a like, and call up such blessed memories and wield such potent in-fluences, I suspect that woman's Sphere is, and will continue to be, what God intended it to be, as queen of hearts and Home and ambassadress for Heaven.