e's house scarcely; there wasn't time. In consequence, I knew nothing
that was going on in the town, much less the events of the country, and
at the same time my husband kept growing in wisdom and knowledge,
from mixing with men and hearing topics of the times discussed. At the
beginning of our married life I had just as quick a mind to grasp things
as he did, and had more school education, having graduated from a three
years' high school. My husband more and more declined to discuss things
with me; as he said, "I didn't know anything about it." When I'd ask
he'd say, "Oh, you wouldn't understand if I'd tell you." So here I am,
at forty-five years, hopelessly dull and uninteresting, while he can
mix with the brightest minds in the country as an equal. He's a strong
Progressive man, took very active part in the late campaign, etc. I
am also Progressive, and tried my best, after so many years of shut-in
life, to grasp the ideas you stood for, and read everything I could find
during the summer and fall. But I've been out of touch with people too
long now, and my husband would much rather go and talk to some woman who
hasn't had any children, because she knows things (I am not specifying
any particular woman). I simply bore him to death because I'm not
interesting. Now, tell me, how was it my fault? I was only doing what
I thought was my duty. No woman can keep up with things who never talks
with any one but young children. As soon as my children grew up they
took the same attitude as their father, and frequently say, "Oh, mother
doesn't know." They look up to and admire their father because he's a
man of the world and knows how to act when he goes out. How can I urge
my daughters now to go and raise large families? It means by the time
you have lost your figure and charm for them they are all ashamed of
you. Now, as a believer in woman's rights, do a little talking to the
men as to their duties to their wives, or else refrain from urging
us women to have children. I am only one of thousands of middle-class
respectable women who give their lives to raise a nice family, and then
who become bitter from the injustice done us. Don't let this go into the
waste-basket, but think it over.

Yours respectfully,

---- ----.

New York, January 11, 1913.

_My Dear Mrs. ----_:

Most certainly your letter will not go into the waste-paper basket. I
shall think it over and show it to Mrs. Roosevelt. Will you let me
say, in the firs