I wish to draw the attention of a sym pathising public to a case of real distress. It is all very well to depict the misery of the bereaved children of a washer woman, when their mother falls among the soap-suds and dies of asphyxia caused by gin and soapy water. When Dick or Harry inn against a dimly-lit lamp-post in a main thoroughfare and break their heads, the generous-hearted public knows how to weep over their beer. There are sorrows far worse to bear — woes to which these are mere trifles. Whenl read that a gentleman, only lately admitted to the bar, has been appointed " Commissioner for taking the acknowledgment of deeds by married women." then I say, then is the time to feel for a fellow creature. What has this aspirant for the honours of the bar done that he should have his conscience weighed to the very ground by the burden of confessions which will be poured into his ear? Is his young life to be rendered miserable by the knowledge that Mrs OPQ gave her bosom lord a piece of her mind on Friday ? Is he to go to his grave with the awful fact whispered in his ear alone that the idolised Susan refused to speak to her " buz " upon Wednesday? Shall he alone be the repositary of the secret that Georgiana made the tea with water that had not boiled, in her great wrath that George would not let her go to the Port with him on Saturday ? Is he to become prematurely old from the unshared con fidence that Sarah said she would go home to her mother if she were not al lowed one afternoon at Herbert, Haynes's? To know and not to tell, to be unable to confide his secrets — why is this ? Whose head is strong enough, whose heart is large enough ? "The acknowledgment of the deeds of married women in Otago," not all of them, for heaven's sake.
