ndmother of ours in, say, 1790 or thereabouts.

In still earlier days the women performed prodigies of heavy labor and
bore a child a year while they did it. History, however, grimly adds the
illuminating note that most of these had a short career. And it is just
possible that the women of that earlier time went beyond their strength,
exhausting their resources of vigor, so that the women of to-day have
not their full share of energy for the tasks before them and therefore
do not add to the sum of life in the same numbers that their foremothers
did.

Such grandmothers, such mothers as those, were "the kind of mothers that
men must worship," says Sarah Comstock in _The Soddy_ as she describes
the trials of women in present-day pioneering; and she adds, "worshiping
mothers makes men great!" Is it not clear where the true greatness of
America lies? If there are old men living who are the sons of such
mothers, though they may be worshipers of the memory of their heroism,
if those sons have any spark of chivalry remaining in their bosoms, they
will wish that their mothers had lived to-day instead of then, that
their labor might be lessened by modern work-saving methods and their
lives brightened by modern amplitude of resource.

The practical executive ability of those great women of one, two, and
three generations ago should be the inheritance of the Country Girls of
to-day, and their faithful examples should be an inspiration to them.
But the loyal descendants of those self-sacrificing and sacrificed women
should say that they will do all in their power to make the time come
swiftly when there shall be a new day in the kitchen, a day when the
housework may be a joy and not a burden to press the strength and
buoyancy out of the young spirits of those who prefer--if they can get
themselves to be brave enough--to enter upon the long service of life in
the environment of the open country.

CHAPTER IX

THE DAUGHTER'S SHARE OF THE WORK

THE KITCHEN

O little room, wherein my days go by
Each like to each, yet each one set apart
For special duties ... nearest to my heart
Art thou of all the house ... in thee I try
New issues when the old ones go awry,
And with new victories allay the smart
Of dismal failures; and afresh I start
With courage new to conquer or to die.
O simple walls, no pictures break thy calm!
O simple floor uncarpeted below!
The inward eye has visions for its balm,
And