the drying of clothing, umbrellas, etc., in wet weather.

Throughout, in planning and furnishing, the College is in every way such as the city may well be proud of. The cost of the buildings, with the land they stand on, was one million dollars.

The model school building will comprise accommodations for a primary department, numbering five hundred boys and girls, and a grammar department with three hundred girls.

The College buildings offer accommodations for upwards of one thousand five hundred students, the number now enrolled being about a thousand, with an average daily attendance of over eight hundred. The faculty numbers thirty professors and teachers, twenty-four of whom are women. The course of study covers a period of three years, with a grade for each half year. The first five grades are designed to give the students a careful training in Latin, French, German, History, Mathematics as far as Trigonometry, Physics, Botany, Astronomy, Zoology, English Literature, Rhetoric and Composition, Drawing and Music, these regular studies being supplemented by lectures on Mineralogy, Chemistry, Anatomy and Phy

siology, and other branches of science. The last term is devoted more especially to the science and art of teaching, with experimental practice in the training school. But four regular recitations are required daily of each pupil, the rest of the time being devoted to miscellaneous exercise requiring no study, exercise in the calisthenium, recreation, etc.

No pretence is made to anything like the mastery of all the studies pursued. It were folly to attempt it in the time allotted. The instruction given is rather such as to develop habits of intelligent study while supplying the pupils with such general and fundamental information as will fit them for the work of elementary teaching.

Though passing through the most critical period of their lives, and one believed by many to be unsuited to study, the average health of the young ladies has been remarkably good. Indeed, in the opinion of President Hunter, the amount of mental work they have to do is physically beneficial, the most efficient sanitary measure for a safe passage from girlhood to womanhood being study enough to keep the mind occupied with other thoughts than those pertaining to sex and self.

A FEW years ago I left Bombay, India, as a passenger on the screw steamer "Penang," which at that time used to carry the regular monthly mail between Bombay, Muscat, or Mascat (a sea-port on the northeast coast of Arabia), and the principal ports of the Persian Gulf.

The steamer, a staunch vessel of about eight hundred tons, carried a full and very valuable cargo of merchandise, and her decks were densely crowded from stem to stern with deck passengers of both sexes and all ages, without exception natives of Asia and Eastern Africa, who, in their heterogeneous, highly picturesque Oriental costumes and characteristic attitudes, presented a striking tableau vivant.

We had a very pleasant passage across the tranquil, azure waters of the Gulf of Omân, and in due time sighted the bare and rugged cliffs of Râs-(Cape)-el

Hâd, 130 miles south-east of the harbor of Mascat, and, shortly after, the mountain chain which forms the coast of the torrid, dismally desolate maritime territory of El Omân.

Slowly and cautiously the steamer wound her way through the gorge. Presently she came in sight of three large, plain, stone buildings, fronting towards the offing, and standing on the beach at the head of the harbor.

The one in the center, the largest of the three buildings, looking somewhat like a three or four-story cotton factory, was the residence of the Imaum (Sultan) of Mascat; the one on its left side, similar in appearance, but with all the window-openings iron-barred, and the majority of them carefully screened with Indian matting, was the Imaum's zenana," or harem; while the edifice on the right side of the Imaum s

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palace, a building much lower than the two former, but of a less forbidding aspect, owing to its whitewashed walls and a luxuriant garden within its spacious precincts, was the residence of Her Britannic Majesty's consul, or rather political agent, whose influence is scarcely less than that of the Imaum himself.

Not being a British subject, I cared more about seeing something of the every-day life of the people of Mascat than the honor of being introduced to a British consul, or even political agent; and so rambled on through the town in company with the second officer and the steward of the steamer, who proceeded to the bazaar, to purchase some fresh provisions.

After a protracted zig-zag tramp through the exceedingly narrow, tortuous and filthy streets, permeated by an atmosphere oppressively hot and positively sickening; brushing past closely muffled, carefullyveiled women, serious-looking, long-bearded merchants and tradesmen, ragged soldiers and Bedouins, all but stark naked fishermen, sailors, laborers, slaves, &c., we finally reached the bazaar, or market, where everything that is obtainable or manufactured in Mascat can be bought-from the

well-known locusts, a favorite article of food, to the most gorgeous diamond neck. laces of the Orient.

My companions had just finished their purchases, and hired a couple of stout ne groes to carry the goods to the beach, when all of a sudden we were startled by a gen eral stampede of all the people of that portion of the bazaar which we had just left.

They came rushing madly after us, the men shouting, the women screaming, and all of them gesticulating in the wildest manner. What could cause such a sudden and universal flight of the population? Was it a revolt among the rabble? a dog afflicted with hydrophobia? a sudden attack of hostile Bedouins from the adjacent desert? or had the good people of Mascat all gone raving mad simultaneously? -questions more easily asked than answered by strangers.

We turned around to look for an explanation from our negro hammâls (porters) whom we had engaged to carry the provisions to the beach, but not one was to be seen! They had dropped their loads and fled with the crowd, which still rushed past us in dismay, stumbling and rolling over the bags of provisions. Anxious to get

out of the way of the terror-stricken populace, which came down upon us like an avalanche, we quickly mounted the elevated platform of the nearest stall-a barber's shop, or rather a head-shaver's establishment, for Moslems rarely, if ever, shave their faces, but universally their heads.

From the exalted position we now occupied on the platform we had a good view over the entire crowd, pushing irresistibly on through the narrow street, and soon discovered the cause of the stampede in the shape of an athletic man, of darkolive complexion, in a state of absolute nudity, and apparently as slippery skinned as an eel, bounding towards us with the velocity of a panther pouncing on its prey. An ugly-looking Malay "creese " (a dagger, at least fourteen inches in length, with a sharply pointed flaming blade) was tightly clutched in his right hand, gladiator-fashion, and dripped with blood; his head was bent low like a butting ram, and everything indicated that the fellow meant, nay, had already done, mischief. Indeed, we shortly afterward saw him plunge his knife up to the hilt into the breast of a poor old fisherman, who had not been fleet enough to escape him. No sooner had the villain withdrawn his weapon when a young shopkeeper, attracted by the general uproar, rushed out of a side street, and, unconsciously, right into the jaws of death.

The next object of attack was a phlegmatic, long-bearded, heavy-built "dervish" (Moslem monk), with three volumes of manuscript under his arm, who dropped his library, took to his heels in right good earnest, and disappeared around the corner like a shadow.

Frenzied by the escape of his intended victim, the human tiger darted madly on in his course of destruction, overtook and grasped savagely by the right arm a handsome young woman, who had been making strenuous efforts to get out of his way; but the well-known waddling gait peculiar to Moslem women, and mainly due to their far too spacious betasselled, lemon-colored, morocco-leather boots, was no match for the prodigious speed of the murderer. Just at this point the bloody career of the desperado was abruptly cut short by a wellmounted Bedouin, armed with a long lance,

which, on dashing up behind the murderer, he drove deeply into his back at the very moment when a well-directed slash of a sword in the hands of an armore on the neck of the assassin almost severed his head from his body, and laid him out on the ground stone-dead.

A feeling of intense relief was manifested by all the spectators of the terrible tragedy; and my companions and myself, all armed with revolvers, felt heartily glad to have been spared the awful probability of becoming his executioners.

The corpse was soon identified as that of a Malay sailor, who had been known to be subject to occasional fits of insanity, or rather uncontrollable fits of frenzy, for few of these fellows who indulge in running a muck (by no means a very rare occurrence in certain parts of the Orient, especially in India and the Malay Islands) can be pronounced absolutely insane. Just previous to these freaks they usually shave off every hair on their bodies, and thoroughly oil or grease their persons from head to foot; they then start on their errand of destruction, armed only with a knife or dagger, and in a state of perfect nudity, in order to render their seizure all but an impossibility. Running at the top of their speed, they stab at every living creature, man or animal, within their reach; but rarely, if ever, stab the same victim more than once. They usually run straight ahead, never turning back or round abrupt corners, nor running into houses; nor will they stop until strangled by a running noose thrown over their heads, or until they are stunned, mortally wounded, or killed outright.

Running a muck by orientals is attributable to various causes, as, for instance, to the consumption of opium, hasheesh, (Indian hemp), etc., to religious frenzy, to a thirst for revenge, or to acute mental and bodily suffering of some description.

The casualties of the tragedy just described amounted to five persons killed outright, and about twenty others more or less seriously wounded. Shortly after the death of the desperado, and the removal of the killed and wounded, the locality gradually re-assumed its customary appearance, our fugitive hammâls again appeared, and we returned to the steamer in safety.

I HARDLY know how to make you understand which of those huckster-women I mean. Her beat (she sells berries and shad in spring, and pepper-pot in winter) lies between Race and Mount Vernon streets. Mrs. Fanning, whose artistic eye always enables her, she says, to find some distinguishing characteristic in that kind of creature, just as a drover can detect differences in the faces of a flock of sheep, would have known her, no doubt, by the unusual size of her brace of tin pails, and by the weight of her contralto voice, rolling out "Pep-per-y-Pot!" over all the din of the street. But apart from these signs Mrs. Fanning would have found no reason for picking out Sarah from the numberless middle-aged women, in ragged calico gowns, and with greasy tray-pads on their heads, who fill the market-wharves at early dawn like a flock of gray, ill-smelling birds. When we want to study a species, however, she would say, one specimen will do as well as another, and she had a pleasure in finding what can be made out of such species as this, after reminding us that Agassiz could find subject for a volume in an earth-worm. To be sure, it must be difficult for her, in the midst of her full, brilliant life, with its æsthetic certainties and chances, to spell out the dull facts in the existence of such women as Sarah. One might as well compare the gibberish of a Digger Indian with the language of an ancient Greek.

One day with both women, for instance. The bath and toilette with Sarah Fanning are exquisite pleasures in every sense. Sarah, the Pepper-Pot Woman, comes down the kitchen stairs before dawn, washes in the sink, slips into her greasy petticoats and sacque, ties her pad over her bald head, and is ready for the street. Young Van Nott, round the corner, had to defer modelling his Zenobia until he went to Italy; there was not a decent pair of shoulders or bust (of the large heroic kind) to be found on this side of the water. Those he used in Rome were flabby and shapeless beside our PepperPot Woman's; but who would look under her dirty calico for a heroic model?

She fills her pails with the hot stew from the back of the stove, and goes out into the still gas-lit streets to supply the eatingstands. Their keepers are setting out

their half-eaten hams, musty pies and heaps of rolls. "Hello, aunty!" they call, as she comes up, yawning as they score down so many quarts against themselves in their leather pass-books. They keep the score, and pay her when they choose. Everybody knows how stupid she is about counting, but she never was cheated more than once or twice in her life. She laughed about it, and then said: It was nateral," and that was the end of it.

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She travels miles before day, knocking about among all sorts of people-on the wharves with the other hucksters, or down in the slaughter yards, where she can buy the tripe cheap, uncleaned. Butchers, and carters, and drovers hail her with "Hello, aunty!" She has the low, pleasant tone which market women acquire in towns where, as in Philadelphia, ladies buy their own provisions. She jokes back at them with a will; her wit is not as fine as Mrs. Fanning's, but it is quite as clean, and much better humored.

Stryker, the English butcher, wonders every day at the decency of the men and women about him. He misses the nastiness with which the same class at home flavor their chaff and horse-play of talk. This woman, now, going about her work in the dark, unmolested by a word! When he hears from some of the men that she has had one or two husbands in her day, and been married to neither of them, he tries a vile joke with her. Sarah is neither insulted nor amused any more than by the bleating of a calf near by. She thinks "sech talk is nateral to the man," and goes quietly on her way, avoiding his stall in future. Yet oddly enough, in spite of the decency of the men, they do not really think any the worse of "aunty" for the Mormonism of her youth; nor when, once or twice a year, she puts on her sleazy ruffled black silk, and bonnet, gay with yellow roses, and takes a back seat in the Methodist Church, is her soul vexed with any pangs about it. If she should cheat in her quart measures, or swear like Kit, the herring woman, she knows the Good Man would be angry with her, and the Devil rejoiced. In her narrow, easy-tempered brain, there is a devout faith in both these persons, and in their dealings with her as soon as the breath is out of her body.

It does not occur to her that they would meddle now or then with any short-comings of her youth, which came as "nateral" to her as her black hair or her full-nostriled nose. This is a deplorable fact, we know, to lay before our religious readers, but we are not drawing an ideal Pepper-Pot Woman.

Mrs. White (the most energetic visitor among the lay sisterhood of St. Jude's) reported Sarah's as a remarkable case to "The Weekly Friend." "Found one woman engaged in work pertaining to her calling, late at night, mingling tripe and onions and other condiments in a large boiler. A singularly good-humored and civil person, but totally indifferent to any appeals concerning her soul's salvation. She appeared to have no ideas nor feeling on any subject but her children-three young men and two girls nearly grown. On entering into conversation with them, I was surprised to find their names all different from their mother's. 'She's no kin to us,' one of the men volunteered, by way of explanation; she raised us. Aunty Sarah has raised five orphans, and never had chick or child of her own.' When I turned to congratulate her on doing such true and noble work in the world, she was too dull to understand me. 'The children were left, and somebody had to take 'em; it was more nateral for me than women with their hands full.'”

The lay visitor could not understand why this big, dark-eyed woman, whose sole knowledge was pepper-pot, and whose soul hinted itself as much as an animal's, and no more, should impress her-move her so strongly, after she had left her. If she were sick, she thought, she would like to have Sarah at her bedside. She told her husband, with tears in her eyes, that if that woman could have nursed the baby last summer it never would have died. But in her account for "The Weekly Friend" she was forced to speak of her as one of the barren fig-trees, a cumberer of the ground.

Meanwhile, Sarah, who is nothing but a mother, after all, has her own troubles this winter with her "young uns." Two of the boys are on the carpet-weavers' strike. They make speeches at the meetings, full of facts which they found in "The Evening Beacon;" the flowery periods and fiery eloquence are half their own, half borrowed from the tales in "The New York Ledger." It all sounds very fine to Sarah, to whom they rehearse them before going out, and

who waits up to hear "if them tyrants are offerin' coolie pay yet?" She cries with anxiety, and coddles them, and cooks savory little messes for them. It is to her just as though they had an exaggerated case of measles or mumps. Richard, the oldest of the family, does not live at home now, and rates these boys savagely on their folly, when he meets them on the street. He is a boss carpenter now, and takes the masters' side of the quarrel. Dick has ScotchIrish blood, and it has told. He has educated himself at night-schools, is a member of building associations, owns a neat little house, and was married last week to a shrewd little milliner round the corner. No one can doubt that he will die a rich man and a church elder. But he and his wife are always most respectful and tender to Sarah. When he was discussing, the other day, with the minister, divers orthodox points, he said: "There is a certain old huckster-woman who has done more to shake my faith in the established heaven and hell than any skeptical arguments. I cannot find room for her in either; I cannot accomodate her to any other place than the back streets of Philadelphia, but she is needed there."

As for Sarah's girls, they wring her old heart more deeply, and in other fashion, than the boys. Jenny (Richard's sister) had her brother's desire to push into "gentility." She is saleswoman in a Jew auction store on Eighth street, at a salary of five dollars a week. Foul air in the shop, and work for fourteen hours a day are making the girl thin and haggard as a ghost. If there were anything to look forward to when. the day is over, she would not sink so fast. She is hungry for books-to learn music, drawing, she does not know what; she does not have them. The house at night is full of young men and girls from the mill where the other girl, Annie, works. They are loud, noisy, vulgar. The girls wear jute chignons and enormous gilt jewelry; they daub their cheeks with madder, and stuff their stockings with saw-dust, in emulation of the ballet-dancers at Fox's Theater. We would write Jenny down as a type of the secondary classes of thwarted and misplaced females, had we not noticed that Jesse Holt, the foreman in her brother's shop, so often hangs about the corner at Eighth street when she comes out. They were out driving by the Wissahickon, too, last Sunday. There is another remedy for woman's woes than suffrage, more imme