sk I leave to sterner moralists, and hopeful souls who
naively imagine they can stem the current of an epoch with the barrier of
their eloquence, or sweep back an ocean of innovations by their logic. I
should like, however, to ask my sisters one question: Are they quite sure
that women gain by these changes? Do they imagine, these "sporty" young
females in short-cut skirts and mannish shirts and ties, that it is
seductive to a lover, or a husband to see his idol in a violent
perspiration, her draggled hair blowing across a sunburned face, panting
up a long hill in front of him on a bicycle, frantic at having lost her
race? Shade of gentle William! who said

_A woman moved_, _is like a fountain troubled_,--
_Muddy_, _ill-seeming_, _thick_, _bereft of beauty_.
_And while it is so_, _none so dry or thirsty_
_Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it_.

Is the modern girl under the impression that men will be contented with
poor imitations of themselves, to share their homes and be the mothers of
their children? She is throwing away the substance for the shadow!

The moment women step out from the sanctuary of their homes, the glamour
that girlhood or maternity has thrown around them cast aside, that moment
will they cease to rule mankind. Women may agitate until they have
obtained political recognition, but will awake from their foolish dream
of power, realizing too late what they have sacrificed to obtain it, that
the price has been very heavy, and the fruit of their struggles bitter on
their lips.

There are few men, I imagine, of my generation to whom the words "home"
and "mother" have not a penetrating charm, who do not look back with
softened heart and tender thoughts to fireside scenes of evening readings
and twilight talks at a mother's knee, realizing that the best in their
natures owes its growth to these influences.

I sometimes look about me and wonder what the word "mother" will mean
later, to modern little boys. It will evoke, I fear, a confused
remembrance of some centaur-like being, half woman, half wheel, or as it
did to neglected little Rawdon Crawley, the vision of a radiant creature
in gauze and jewels, driving away to endless _fetes_--_fetes_ followed by
long mornings, when he was told not to make any noise, or play too
loudly, "as poor mamma is resting." What other memories can the
"successful" woman of to-day hope to leave in the minds of her children?
If the child remembers hi