ally get away from it as soon as
they can. The overworked mother cannot make the home attractive; the
things that can be left undone are left undone, and so the cushions on
the lounge are dirty and torn, the pictures hang crooked on the walls,
and the hall lamp has had no oil in it for months. That does not
matter, though, for the family live in the kitchen, and, during the
winter, the other part of the house is of the same temperature as a
well. Knowing that she is not keeping her house as it should be kept
has taken the heart out of many a woman on the farm. But what can she
do? The meals have to be cooked; the butter must be made!

There are certain burdens which could be removed from the women on the
farm; there is part of their work that could be done cheaper and better
elsewhere, and the whole farm and all its people would reap the benefit.

But right about here I think I hear from Brother Bones of Bonesville:

"Do you mean to say that we should pay for the washing, ironing,
bread-making, sewing?" he cries out. "We never could afford it, and,
besides, what would the women put in their time at if all that work was
done for them?"

Brother Bones, we can always afford to pay for things in money rather
than in human flesh and blood. That is the most exorbitant price the
race can pay for anything, and we have been paying for farm work that
way for a long time. If you doubt this statement, I can show you the
receipts which have been chiseled in stone and marble in every
graveyard.

SACRED TO THE MEMORY
OF
JANE

BELOVED WIFE OF EDWARD JAMES.
AGED 32 YEARS AND 6 MONTHS.

Who can estimate the worth of a mother to her family and the community?

An old widower, who was reproved for marrying a very young girl for his
third wife, exonerated himself from blame by saying: "It would ruin any
man to be always buryin', and buryin'."

But Brother Bones is not yet satisfied, and he is sure the women will
have nothing to do if such a scheme would be followed out, and he tells
us that his mother always did these things herself and raised her
family, too.

"I can tell you," says Brother Bones, "my mother knew something about
rearing children; she raised seven and buried seven, and she never lay
in bed for more than three days with any of them. Poor mother, she was
a very smart woman--at least so I have been told--I don't remember her."

That's just the point, Brother Bone