Weekly Caledonian. (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1919-1920, 1919-04-09

the drudgery of the home and pas
it on to your daughter and she skim
it over as quickly as she can an
passes the idea on to her daughter
pretty soon the drudgcry or the HON
is going to be a reality, isn't it? Blu
if you love your home and your ba
! bicS and look at your life work as tn
biggest job under Gods heaven,
bringing human beings to life an,
caring for them and rearing them in
to the stature of strong men ant
noble women-if your mental atti
tude is right-thcrc won't be mucl
d,udgcry in it, will therc?"
"Dck" said the woman after Ions
time, FIN sorry; Oh Pm so SORT,
+ for lots of things. The pity of it il
that for mo it's too late to mend
| guess | guess you've
! you've told the truth, Dick.
do know what's the matter with me
Yes, III confess it. was the kids
the little kids of my own that
never had. I've lived n lonely abnor
NAL life and | guess | guess
it's up to me to pay the penalty
Gawd, haven't | paid the penalty?'-
she cried it out suddenly. "Dick,
perhaps il was the longing for some
remnant of that satisfaction that
was seeking though I wouldn't
hardly dare confess it to myself
when | won't around with you, hoyin2
that"
"Ilopin" that I'd marry you? It's
too late, Mibb. I've seen too much
Pm all burned out inside. I'm burn
ed out and blue and discouraged and
cynical. It's been my lot to run up
against only tho modern women
meaning the kind that sort of break
out in a riot when someone dares to
say that woman's place is in the
home. Maybe it's because l came a.
way from little town so early in
life. Whatever it is, it's done for
me-"
There was an awful pathos in Dick
Robinson's voice. And something
stirred in the woman across the table,
the woman who had wasted the
substance Of her womanhood in sell
fish living. Perhaps it was the latent
spark of maternity; heart answering
heart in the loneliness of worldliness.
A choke came in her parched throat.
She reached forth her hands convul-
sively.
"Dick," she whispered, eff you'd
only let me help you; if you only
would"
"You can'tw he declared harshly.
"No woman can. I've seen so rauch
now that l wouldn't trust the best
woman that ever drew breath. The
time for that is on the threshold of
life, not in the exit out into the
late afternoon, when evelything's
in the future and man needs a
woman's help and a home behind him
and Il family to bind and inspire him.
Oh Mibb! There's so many women
and men too-who like to argue how
women live beside men and fight be-
side men and ought to vote beside
men and dish out beautiful lot
of clap-trap about how legislation is
going to change this, that and the
other evil that's affecting society. But
take it from an old rounder, Mibb,-
that's all irrevelant and shallow and
on the surface. 1t doesn't 60 deep
enough, Mibb. 1t doesn't get down
to the bedrock and the hard-pan of
human nature and alter the causes
that are spreading the disease of
social dissatisfaction. You can't leg
,islate old mother Nature, Nib. You
can't rip out in generation all that's
been Undecided in the race since the
dawn of time. The trouble is that
women are consciously or uncon-
sciously forgetting how to mother,
bb,-moiher their kids or their
mcnfolk-they'rc simply killing the
maternal instinct by distractions
Our industrial generation means fam
lilies moving around from town to
town where wages are highest
camping out in rented quarters, get
ting away from the land, from sub
stantial domestic foundatiohs. We're
going through sort of racial hy-
sierra for shorter methods, quicker
results, labor-saving devices, 3 mil
lion distractions and diversions rand
it's making everything even moth
erhood and domestic life, over in
to the same hit-or-miss, of-again-an
-again-gone-again pabulum. And
where we're all going to bring up, the
good God in His infinite wisdom only
knows. Now you know what mean
when | say I've got no use for your
claim a moment ago that I'm expect
cd to carry my burdens and win my
battle and shield and protect you wo-
men when at the same time you're
scrambling away as fast as you can
from filling the function you're inf
tended by nature to fill in the her1rt
of a man and the life of his fatally.
Oh hell, Mibb, Pm sick of it. Sick I'M
to death. III take your society in
the way I've taken il the last two
years--for mental dbxersion. But
soul diversion and sakisfaction,-and
inspiration and that heart-hunger for
the thing I call maternity, that's an
other thing, Nib. ! I don't ever ex-
pect to know it and I'm sour and