an the
interest of passing the time, is not only useless, but detestable as a
member of human society, while his old age is of unhappiness the most
unhappy. For what is Old Age worth if it has no "memories"; and what
are "memories" worth if they are not memories of having lived one's
life to the full? To me, to live one's own life is to live--or,
perhaps I ought to say, to strive to live--all those ideals which
Reflection has shown you to be good, and Nature has given you the power
to accomplish. That to me is the fight to live your own life--the
fight to realise yourself, to live the "best" that is in you. For a
man and woman must be able to hold up their heads high, not only face
to face with the world, but face to face with their own selves, before
they can say that Life is happy, that Life has been worth while. The
tragic cases are those who cannot live their own lives because the
lives of other people demanded their sacrifice, a sacrifice which
cannot be withheld without loss of self-respect, of that good
fellowship with your own "soul" which some people call Conscience.

This sacrifice is generally a woman's sacrifice. You may see the
victims of it in any church, in any town, at almost any hour of the
day. They are grey-haired, and sad, and grim, and they hold the more
tenaciously to the promise of happiness in After Life because they have
sacrificed, or permitted to pass by, the happiness of this. To a great
extent it is a "Victorian" sacrifice. They are victims of that passing
Belief which was convinced that a girl of gentle birth ought to
administer to her parents, pay calls, uphold the Church, and do a
little needlework all her life, unless some man came along to marry her
and give her emancipation. The happiness which goes with a career,
even if that career fails, is saving daughters from this parentally
imposed "atrophy." They are learning that to live one's own life is
not necessarily to live a "bad" life, but a "fuller" life. Thus the
young are teaching the Old People wisdom--the knowledge that youth has
its Declaration of Rights no less than Middle Age.

_Autumn Sowing_

I sometimes think the man who first said that "the road to hell is paved
with good intentions" must have said it in November. The autumn is full
of good intentions--just as spring is full of holiday and hope, and
summer of heat and _dolce far niente_. But, just as the first warm day
in June fills you with a physical