IF a woman grow a cabbage and take it to the market, she sells it for just as much money as would a man had he grown the cabbage.

This I said to myself as I passed through the market yesterday and saw a woman selling cabbages. I bought one of her for fifteen cents. “Are you from the country?” I asked.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied pleasantly. “I am a widow, but I have a nice garden spot where I grow my cabbages, potatoes and other things for market.”

“You spade your garden, plant your seed and do all the work yourself?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Have you children?”

“I have two little fellows, but they are not old enough to help me any.”

“You are a farmer, then, eh?”

“Not exactly,” she replied, laughing; “but I have two cows; I have customers for my butter here in the city; then I have an apple orchard – only a little one. I have rented just now three acres of land near my place; so next year I will have potatoes – a good many – to sell.”

“And,” I said, “you will sell your vegetables for just as much money as would a man?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied.

“And so you have Woman’s Rights?”

“That is so, that is so!” she said with a laugh; “yes, yes! Woman’s Rights!”

I walked away meditating; I meditated all the way home, and now I have had a dream which I believe was the result of that woman, her cabbages and my meditations thereupon. I am compelled, however, to confess that this dream which I am about to relate was not given to me in the night-time. It came to pass that when I arrived at home with my cabbage and marketing, I was so tired and sleepy that I laid down on the sofa in the parlor and went sound asleep. Yes, I have slept three hours; have just woke, and must now make haste and write my dream before my husband comes home from the office.

I dreamed that I was flying – or rather floating – through the air. Is it not a delightful feeling? How happy it makes one feel to dream of flying! Well, it seemed to me that I was high in the air and moving rapidly. Hamlets, villages, towns and cities, also the vast expanse of field, meadow, wood, river and lake were spread out as a map to my delighted gaze. But oh, the smoking, dirty cities! As I passed over them something drew me to descend, not that I so desired, but that the collective magnetic forces of the human beings therein immured, deprived me not only of the power, but, in a great degree, of the disposition to resist. So I came near enough to the surface to view the dark alleys, the narrow streets, the dark, brick walls of houses huddled together, and I longed to fly from them and again behold the beautiful country; but I was compelled to linger in each city and visit hundreds of places of which I had heard but had never seen – every garret, cellar, workshop or workroom in which poor half-paid working women toiled. But I found very few, indeed, of such individuals. What could this mean? Then millinery stores, fancy stores and all other stores were visited; but the number of women employed was really very small and those few had not that pallid, under-paid, over-worked look usually characteristic of women in such positions.

Mystery of mysteries! I said to myself; who does all the slop-work of those great cities? Who make the shirts, drawers, etc.? Who does the tailor-work we have heard so much about women doing for a mere pittance? Then with a rapidity much greater than that of flying I seemed to visit the homes and places of business of those who did that work; but lo, it was principally done by men and boys! There were women, certainly; but few – very few – compared with the number which I supposed were employed on such work. What has become of the women? I asked myself. Has the race of woman tailors died out? Are they all married, and so have husbands to provide for them? No answer came. So into hotels, jewelry stores, telegraph offices, paint shops, where I knew that the advocates of woman’s rights should be almost exclusively employed, I looked but found scarcely any women there. Into counting-houses, broker’s offices and banks I looked; and though in these latter I found some women looking quite vigorous and contented, women were by no means in the majority.

Well, Perhaps they had all gone into “law, physic and divinity!” So, after considerable search, I found a few doctors’ and lawyers’ offices scattered here and there; but the occupation of that class of people seemed to be gone to a considerable extent – there were not one-tenth the number I expected to find; but about half the lawyers, and three-fourths of the few doctors remaining, were women. As to the pulpit, I couldn’t exactly understand it, for many of the churches had been turned into lecture rooms; others had been fitted up as unitary homes; some had become polytechnic institutions and schools of science; and many of the tall steeples were transformed into observatories for the people. In about half of the churches, however, preachers were grinding away as usual, and about one-fourth of these were women.

It rejoiced me greatly to find banks wholly conducted by women, who were also, to a large extent, proprietors of stores, and seemed not to be excluded from any occupation. Still, the majority of business people were men; it was evident that but a small proportion of women were employed in business, and that the number of persons employed in what are called the professions was so few that the disappearance of women from so many employments could not be accounted for in that way. What had become of the great surplus population of poor working women? Was it possible that their work had been taken from them and given to the men and boys who seemed to fill their places?

Then sorrow came into my soul, and I said, “Alas, alas! it would seem that tens of thousands of women must be out of employment – must be starving – who did manage to live, if ever so poorly, by the labor of their hand; at least seventy-five or ninety per cent of these women must be starving!” Then I remembered a book entitled “Apocatastasis,” or Progress backwards. How I had laughed at the idea of progress backwards! But did not his look very much like “Apocatastasis?”

It would take too much space to detail all my wanderings through that and many other cities all over the Continent. It will be sufficient to state that from Maine to Texas, and from Florida to Alaska, what is now woman’s usual work in cities was nearly all done by men. Had to women all become wealthy? It was evident that they had not taken all the lucrative employments once monopolized by men.

Then the scene changed, and I found myself walking along the sidewalk of that city, like other mortals. I was pondering on what I had learned, and was feeling very sad. By-and-by I lifted my eyes which, in my gloom, had been cast on the sidewalk, and lo, in every direction, large bills met my eye, headed with the words, “Fifty years ago!” “Semicentenarian festival!” Across the street were large banners, as we see on election days, in commemoration of some great event. On these were the same words, with appropriate emblems and devices. Flags of all sizes were hung out of the windows, and carried by little boys and girls in the streets, all having the same or similar mottoes. On one of these large banners was represented, on the left, a sickly, starving woman, sewing and shivering in a garret; beside her was a coffin containing a dead infant, the pointers of the clock indicated midnight. Under this were the words, “Fifty years ago!” On the right of the same banner were represented groups of beautiful, healthy, intelligent women and children, gathering fruit and flowers in the bright sunlight. This picture was entitled “To-day.”

Most of the banners and flags were graced by the faces of two noble, earnest, beautiful ladies; but no names were given and only the words “Fifty years ago!” replied to my many questions as to the meaning. The bells rang joyously, and bands of music were in almost every street, but neither drum nor cannon brought back memories of war. The beautiful, the joyous and the free were manifested in every countenance. Maidens and matrons, boys and girls, gentle men and intelligent women, all participated in this celebration. But I could not learn from any of them what was its meaning, all seemed so fully occupied with their destination.

By-and-by the street cars came along, fluttering all over with small flags, on which were these same words, “Fifty years ago!” The cars were labelled, “For the Festival!” Then rattled along the street two carriages in which were seen the beaming faces of ladies and gentlemen, and smiling children, and flags fluttering, with the same words, “Fifty years ago!”

Slowly, patiently, with the crowed of pedestrians, I moved along in the same direction as the carriages and cars, which frequently passed me, decked out with those magic words. All at once I found myself approaching a magnificent pavilion, large enough to hold tens of thousands of people. What large and beautiful flags were unfurled to the breeze! Leaves and flowers were everywhere made to repeat, in wreaths, those predominant words, and it seemed as if the very atmosphere multiplied and repeated, in each constituent action, the words, “Fifty years ago!”

I entered the pavilion and beheld a sight, which, for beauty and magnificence, I never saw equalled. Never, while life may last, shall I forget this part of my dream. Verily, it was a paradise far surpassing any that Adam and Eve ever beheld. Here was gathered all the beauty belonging to the vegetable kingdom. Here fruits, flowers, spreading branches and crossing vines were woven into a thousand floral arches over our heads – formed into summer bowers, grottoes, shady walks, secluded retreats. There were miniature lakes, waterfalls, fountains, fish ponds that surprised and delighted my eyes. Here were gathered specimens of all flowers, edible fruits, grains and vegetables grown in the United States. Ladies – only ladies – presided over all this wealth of beauty. Then I looked up and beheld in letters of living flowers and vines these words:

Women’s Agricultural Fair.

I looked at the beautifully-executed design, and many times repeated to myself the words, “Women’s Agricultural Fair.”

“This is a most beautiful place,” I remarked to an old gentleman who was leaning on his staff, looking up and about him, evidently feasting his eyes.

“Yes, grand, grand!” observed the old man.

“Will you inform me,” I asked, “what is the meaning of this festival, or how it originated?”

He appeared astonished at my question, but soon showed by his countenance that he had decided me to be in earnest.

“You are a stranger, I see,” he replied. “well, this is called the ‘Women’s Agricultural Fair’ because everything you behold here – no matter what – has been grown by women agriculturists. It is this year combined with a semicentennial festival for the following reasons: Fifty years ago, a large surplus population of poor, toiling women, crowded our cities, w............