t mother-love has more than one channel of
expression. I think the reason our children are so--so fully loved, by
all of us, is that we never--any of us--have enough of our own."

This seemed to me infinitely pathetic, and I said so. "We have much that
is bitter and hard in our life at home," I told her, "but this seems to
me piteous beyond words--a whole nation of starving mothers!"

But she smiled her deep contented smile, and said I quite misunderstood.

"We each go without a certain range of personal joy," she said, "but
remember--we each have a million children to love and serve--OUR
children."

It was beyond me. To hear a lot of women talk about "our children"! But
I suppose that is the way the ants and bees would talk--do talk, maybe.

That was what they did, anyhow.

When a woman chose to be a mother, she allowed the child-longing to
grow within her till it worked its natural miracle. When she did not so
choose she put the whole thing out of her mind, and fed her heart with
the other babies.

Let me see--with us, children--minors, that is--constitute about
three-fifths of the population; with them only about one-third, or
less. And precious--! No sole heir to an empire's throne, no solitary
millionaire baby, no only child of middle-aged parents, could compare as
an idol with these Herland children.

But before I start on that subject I must finish up that little analysis
I was trying to make.

They did effectually and permanently limit the population in numbers, so
that the country furnished plenty for the fullest, richest life for all
of them: plenty of everything, including room, air, solitude even.

And then they set to work to improve that population in quality--since
they were restricted in quantity. This they had been at work on,
uninterruptedly, for some fifteen hundred years. Do you wonder they were
nice people?

Physiology, hygiene, sanitation, physical culture--all that line of work
had been perfected long since. Sickness was almost wholly unknown among
them, so much so that a previously high development in what we call the
"science of medicine" had become practically a lost art. They were a
clean-bred, vigorous lot, having the best of care, the most perfect
living conditions always.

When it came to psychology--there was no one thing which left us so
dumbfounded, so really awed, as the everyday working knowledge--and
practice--they had in this line. As we learned more and more of it, we