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 inexorably as in the workshops and the offices, it began to echo through the seminaries and the colleges, through the laboratories and the law courts. Listen! The sound of marching feet. The new woman movement is here too at the doors. High on the walls of Leipzig and the Sorbonne, of Oxford and Cambridge and Moscow and Milan, on all of the old world institutions of learning, the long scrolls of the casualty lists commenced to go up. Whole cloisters and corridors began to be black with the names of men "dead on the field of honour." And civilisation faced the inexorable sequel. Women at last in the professions now are taking title on equal terms with men.

The doors of a very old established institution in Fifty-ninth Street, New York, swung open on a day last autumn. And a line of young women passed through. They went up the steps to take their place—for the first time that women had ever been there—in the class rooms of the College of Physicians and Surgeons. There is perhaps a little awkward moment of surprise, of curiosity. A professor nods in recognition to the new comers. The class of 1921 smiles good naturedly. An incident is closed.

And an epoch is begun. Outside on a high scaffolding there are masons and carpenters at work. See them up there against a golden Indian summer sky. They are putting the finishing touches on a new $80,000 building addition. And the ringing of their hammers and chisels, the scraping of their trowels is but significant of larger building