There Are Some Of Us Who In

We Are A Race Of Women That Of Old Knew No Fear And Feared No Death, And Lived Great Lives And Hoped Great Hopes; And If Today Some Of Us Have Fallen On Evil And Degenerate Times, There Moves In Us Yet The Throb Of The Old Blood.

The Troubles Of The Young Are Soon Over; They Leave No External Mark. If You Wound The Tree In Its Youth The Bark Will Quickly Cover The Gash; But When The Tree Is Very Old, Peeling The Bark Off, And Looking Carefully, You Will See The Scar There Still. All That Is Buried Is Not Dead.

To Us, From The Beginning, Nature Has Been But A Poor Plastic Thing, To Be Toyed With This Way Or That, As Man Happens To Please His Deity Or Not; To Go To Church Or Not; To Say His Prayers Right Or Not; To Travel On A Sunday Or Not.was It Possible For Us In An Instant To See Nature As She Is-the Flowing Vestment Of An Unchanging Reality?

A Little Weeping, A Little Wheedling, A Little Self-degradation, A Little Careful Use Of Our Advantages, And Then Some Man Will Say .come, Be My Wife! With Good Looks And Youth Marriage Is Easy To Attain. There Are Men Enough; But A Woman Who Has Sold Herself, Even For A Ring And A New Name, Need Hold Her Skirt Aside For No Creature In The Street. They Both Earn Their Bread In One Way. Marriage For Love Is The Most Beautiful External Symbol Of The Union Of Souls; Marriage Without It Is The Least Clean Traffic That Defiles The World.

We Have Been So Blinded By Thinking And Feeling That We Have Never Seen The World.