or science. After the first year, three elective parallel courses are arranged, called respectively classical, literary, and scientific, which afford ample opportunity to individuals to indulge their respective aptitudes. Enough studies, however, are common to each of these courses to insure that all shall have the essentials of a liberal culture. Those whose tastes lead them especially to scientific studies are still required to have some knowledge of the humanities, and those who are more inclined to the humanities are expected, also, to have some notion of natural laws and forces.

Smith College does not, however, restrict its advantages to those who may desire to take all of its regular studies. No student can receive the degree of the college who has not passed through the prescribed course; but in case a young lady wishes to pursue a special line of study, she is allowed to do so, provided she is sufficiently mature and well prepared to enter any of the regular classes in those branches which she desires to prosecute. No instruction is given, however, by the college, to any one in a lower grade of study than that embraced in its curriculum.

While the course of study is thus arranged according to a philosophy of the intellect as intellect, it is not forgotten that it is a woman's college. The students are not

the refinement and grace which have ever been considered essential to a cultured woman. Miss Smith says in her will: "I would have the education suited to the mental and physical wants of women. my design to render my sex any the less feminine, but to develop as fully as may be the powers of womanhood."

It is not

To carry out this wish of the founder, the trustees determined to inaugurate a new departure with reference to college buildings. Instead of the immense caravansaries, four or five stories high, in which are gathered recitation-rooms, kitchen, dining, and sleeping rooms, it was determined, in order to realize both an academic and a home life, to erect one central building for strictly collegiate purposes, and to group around it smaller dwelling-houses which should furnish homes for the students. These residences were to accommodate about twenty-five students, and at the head of each household there was to be a lady who should sustain to it a relation similar to that which a lady in an ordinary home holds to her own family. She should preside over it and give direction to its social and domestic life. Each household should form by itself a separate establishment, and yet all should be connected by similar interests and pursuits as a literary community. The lady teachers might also live in these dif

ferent families, and by their society and influence contribute to the general welfare and interest. None of the buildings were to be more than two stories and a half high, in order to avoid numerous staircases. These plans have thus- far been strictly adhered to, with gratifying results. The beneficial effects of the home-like life are very apparent both in the health and manners of the students. The nervous tension and excitement which must necessarily arise where great numbers are gathered together, and regulations multiplied, are avoided, and the quiet and freedom of a smaller family are secured.

Personal peculiarities can also thus be more satisfactorily studied, and refining influences more successfully exerted. Instead of formal lectures on decorum and social proprieties, the aim is, through the natural daily intercourse of a well ordered family, to develop the best social characteristics.

In these different homes the young ladies receive their friends, enjoy their games and festivities, and their smaller sociables from time to time, while in the larger hall in the college building they also frequently meet, with invited guests, for various entertainments. Instead of being shut up entirely to their own society, they are thus made acquainted with intelligent and refined people of many different classes. Musical concerts and

readings are interspersed to give variety to their life.

The private rooms of the young ladies are designed to suit different tastes. Some of them are for two persons with study and bedroom; some are arranged as single rooms; all are well ventilated and comfortably furnished.

The style of the main collegiate building is secular Gothic. It is built of brick, trimmed with stone, and the interior is elegantly finished in unpainted native woods. On the lower floor are the recitation, reading,

REAR ENTRANCE OF COLLEGE BUILDING.

and dressing rooms. A large well-furnished A large well-furnished laboratory is finely arranged in a single story, sufficiently disconnected from the main building to prevent any annoyance from gases.

On the second floor there are the large social hall, cabinets, art gallery and art lecture-rooms, and offices. The main rooms of the second story are so arranged that they can all be thrown together whenever it is desirable for literary or social entertainments, and other purposes. The social hall, used also as a chapel, affords a striking combination of elegant architecture and beauty of finish. The art gallery, even unfurnished, would delight the eye of an artist. This gallery is divided into alcoves by an ingenious arrangement of Gothic screens, which are covered with several hundred autotype copies of representative paintings of the Italian, Flemish, Dutch, German, and Spanish schools. The ends of these screens are finished to form effective backgrounds for casts representing noted statues. There are also oil copies of celebrated paintings of the different schools. The art lecture-room has its walls covered with illustrations of the French school, and an adjoining room is to be devoted to the English school of art.

The college opened in the fall of 1875. That it might create its own traditions and esprit de corps, it was determined to receive no students to any advanced classes until these classes had been formed in the regular order of growth. Only one class, therefore, corresponding to the Freshmen in male colleges, was organized the first year. The names Freshman and Sophomore have been discarded, and First and Second Class have been adopted as titles instead, with Junior and Senior for the following years.

Large numbers of applications were received on the opening of the college, from those who, not fully understanding the requirements for admission, were not sufficiently advanced in their preparation to enter. Fourteen were admitted, and formed the First class. Last year another class of sixteen was formed, so that two regular classes are now in complete working order. An opportunity for actual comparison of attainments was furnished during the last fall term, when, owing to the illness of the Professor in Latin and Greek, two Professors from Amherst college came daily, for several weeks, to take charge of the classes in those departments. The young ladies were able, without difficulty, to carry on the same amount of work in the same studies as the

VOL. XIV.-2.

young men in Amherst, and with a higher average scholarship.

In accordance with the desire of the founder, the college is undenominational, though thoroughly Christian. "Sensible of what the Christian religion has done for my sex," said Miss Smith in her will, "and believing that all education should be for the glory of God and the good of man, I direct that the Holy Scriptures be daily and systematically read and studied in said college; and without giving preference to any sect or denomination, all the education and all the discipline shall be pervaded by the spirit of evangelical Christian religion."

Miss Smith directed in her will that not more than one-half of her bequest should be expended in buildings and grounds. The remainder was to be invested as a permanent fund for furnishing teachers, library, and apparatus, and for the general purposes of the institution. The trustees, entering fully into the spirit of this wise direction, have, by judicious management, kept far within the limits allowed them. Indeed, the sums required for the erection of the buildings and the current expenses of the college have been drawn thus far from the income of the property, without encroaching upon the original endowment. The amount which the college received from Smith's estate in 1871 was $387,468. To this was added $25,000 by the town of Northampton, to comply with a condition concerning the location of the college. The estimated value, at present, of the productive funds of the college and real estate, is $525,000. The college is thus enabled to offer to rich and poor alike, a superior education, at a sum far below its actual cost. It is also enabled to offer scholarships of $100, annually, to any one who needs assist

ance.

Miss

It is hoped that this ability may be greatly increased by additional contributions.

Those who are watching with some anxiety to see what will be the effect of this higher education for women upon the health of the students, will be glad to know that the experience of Smith College has been most encouraging in this respect; and that the majority of the students have improved in their physical condition during their connection with the college. serve to strengthen the belief of those who are fast coming to regard it as a proved truth, that the mind, employed in healthful study, under careful conditions, exerts an invigorating influence upon the whole being.

This fact may

CHAPTER XXXV.

IN the bedroom above the small parlor a fire was burning at midnight, and by this fire Grace was watching. The lamp was turned low and the room was very quiet; a dropping cinder made quite a startling sound. When a moan or a movement of the patient broke the stillness-which was only at rare intervals-the curate rose and went to the bedside. But it was only to look at the sufferer lying upon it, bandaged and unconscious. There was very little he could do. He could follow the instructions given by the medical man before he went away, but these had been few and hurried, and he could only watch with grief in his heart. There was but a chance that his friend's life might be saved. Close attention and unremitting care might rescue him, and to the best of his ability the curate meant to give him both. But he could not help feeling a deep anxiety. His faith in his own skill was not very great, and there were no professional nurses in Riggan.

"It is the care women give that he needs," he said once, standing near the pillow and speaking to himself. "Men cannot do these things well. A mother or a sister might save him.”

"He went to the window and drew back the curtain to look out upon the night. As he did so, he saw the figure of a woman nearing the house. As she approached, she began to walk more slowly, and when she reached the gate she hesitated, stopped and looked up. In a moment it became evident that she saw him, and was conscious that he saw her. The dim light in the chamber threw his form into strong relief. She raised her hand and made a gesture. He turned away from the window, left the room quietly and went down-stairs. She had not moved, but stood at the gate awaiting him. She spoke to him in a low tone, and he distinguished in its sound a degree of physical exhaustion.

"Yo' saw me," she said. "I thowt yo' did, though I did na think o' yo' bein' at th' winder when I stopped-to-to see th' leet."

"I am glad I saw you," said Grace. "You have been at work among the men who were hurt?"

Ay," pulling at a bush of evergreen nervously, and scattering the leaves as she spoke. "Theer's scarce a house o' th' common soart i' Riggan as has na trouble in it." "God help them all!" exclaimed Grace, fervently.

"Have you seen Miss Barholm ?" he asked next.

"She wur on th' ground i' ten minnits after th' explosion. She wur in th' village when it happent, an' she drove to th' pit. She's been workin' as hard as ony woman i' Riggan. She saw us go down th' mine, but she did not see us come up. She wur away then wi' a woman as had a lad to be carried home dead. She would but she knowed yo' were wi' him, an' theer wur them as needed her. When th' cages. coom up theer wur women as screamed an' held to her, an' throwed theirsens on their knees an' hid their faces i' her dress, an' i' her honds, as if they thowt she could keep

th' truth fro' 'em."

ha' come to him,

Grace trembled in his excitement. "God bless her! God bless her!" he said, again and again.

"Where is she now?" he asked at length. "Theer wur a little chap as coom up i' th' last cageful-he wur hurt bad, an' he wur sich a little chap as it went hard wi' him. When th' doctor touched him he screamed an' begged to be let alone, an' she heerd an' went to him, an' knelt down an' quieted him a bit. Th' poor little lad would na let go o’ her dress; he held to it fur dear life, an' sobbed an' shivered and begged her to go wi' him an' howd his head on her lap while th' doctor did what mun be done. An' so she went, an' she's wi' him now. He will na live till day-leet, an' he keeps cryin' out for th' lady to stay wi' him."

There was another silence, and then Joan spoke :

"Canna yo' guess what I coom to say?" He thought he could, and perhaps his glance told her so.

"If I wur a lady," she said, her lips, her hands trembling, "I could na ax yo' what I've made up my moind to; but I'm noan a lady, an' it does na matter. If yo' need some one to help yo' wi' him, will yo' let me ha' th' place? I dunnot ax nowt else but-but to be let do th' hard work."

"Don't do that," he said, gently. "Come with me. It is you he needs."

He led the way into the house and up the stairs, Joan following him. When they entered the room they went to the bedside.

The injured man lay motionless. "Is theer loife i' him yet?" asked Joan. "He looks as if theer might na be."

"There is life in him," Grace answered; "and he has been a strong man, so I think we may feel some hope."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE next morning the pony-carriage stopped before the door of the curate's lodgings. When Grace went down-stairs to the parlor, Anice Barholm turned from the window to greet him. The appearance of physical exhaustion he had observed the night before in Joan Lowrie, he saw again in her, but he had never before seen the face which Anice turned toward him.

"I was on the ground yesterday, and saw you go down into the mine," she said. "I had never thought of such courage before."

That was all, but in a second he comprehended that this morning they stood nearer together than they had ever stood before.

"How is the child you were with ?" he asked.

"He died an hour ago."

When they went upstairs, Joan was standing by the sick man.

"He's worse than he wur last neet," she said. "Ar.' he'll be worse still. I ha' nursed hurts like these afore. It'll be mony a day afore he'll be better-if th' toime ivver comes."

The rector and Mrs. Barholm, hearing of the accident, and leaving Browton hurriedly to return home, were met by half a dozen different versions on their way to Riggan, and each one was so enthusiastically related that Mr. Barholm's rather dampened interest in his daughter's protégée was fanned again into a brisk flame.

"There must be something in the girl, after all," he said, "if one could only get at it. Something ought to be done for her, really."

Hearing of Grace's share in the transaction, he was simply amazed.

"I think there must be some mistake," he said to his wife. "Grace is not the mannot the man physically," straightening his

But the truth of the report forced itself upon him after hearing the story repeated several times before they reached Riggan, and arriving at home, they heard the whole story from Anice.

While Anice was talking, Mr. Barholm began to pace the floor of the room restlessly.

"I wish I had been there," he said. "I would have gone down myself."

"You are a braver man than I took you for," he said to his curate when he saw him, and he felt sure that he was saying exactly the right thing. "I should scarcely have expected such dashing heroism from you, Grace."

"I hardly regarded it in that light," said the little gentleman, coloring sensitively. "If I had, I should scarcely have expected it of myself."

The fact that Joan Lowrie had engaged herself as nurse to the injured engineer made some gossip among her acquaintances at first, but this soon died out. Thwaite's wife had a practical enough explanation of the case.

"Th' lass wur tired o' pit-work; an' no wonder. She's made up her moind to ha' done wi' it; an' she's a first-rate one to nurse,—strong i' the arms, an' noan sleepyheaded. Happen she'll tak' up wi' it fur a trade. As to it bein' him as she meant when she said theer wur a mon as she meant to save, it wur no such thing. Joan Lowrie's noan th' kind o' wench to be runnin' after gentlefolk,-yo' know that yoresens. It's noan o' our business who the mon wur. Happen he's dead; an' whether he's dead or alive, yo'd better leave him a-be, an' her too."

In the sick man's room the time passed monotonously. There were days and nights of heavy slumber or unconsciousness,-restless mutterings and weary tossings to and fro. The face upon the pillow was sometimes white, sometimes flushed with fever; but whatever change came to pass, Death never seemed far away.

Grace lost appetite, and grew thin with protracted anxiety and watching. He would not give up his place even to Anice or Mrs. Barholm, who spent much of their time in the house. He would barely consent to snatch a few minutes' rest in the day-time; in truth, he could not have slept if he would. Joan held to her post unflinchingly. She took even less respite than