Only As We Live, Think, Feel, And

A Million Million Worlds That Move In Peace;a Million Mighty Laws That Never Cease;and One Small Ant-heap, Hidden By Small Weeds,rich With Eggs, Slaves And Store Of Millet-seeds.they Sleep Beneath The Sodand Trust In God.

It Is Dull Enough To Confuse The Eye In Following, Pronounced Enough To Constantly Irritate And Provoke Study, And When You Follow The Lame Uncertain Curves For A Little Distance They Suddenly Commit Suicide—plunge Off At Outrageous Angles, Destroy Themselves In Unheard Of Contradictions.

In Great Cities Where People Of Ability Abound, There Is Always A Feverish Urge To Keep Ahead, To Set The Pace, To Adopt Each New Fashion In Thought And Theory As Well As In Dress - Or Undress.

The Original Necessity For The Ceaseless Presence Of The Woman To Maintain That Altar Fire - And It Was An Altar Fire In Very Truth At One Period - Has Passed With The Means Of Prompt Ignition; The Matchbox Has Freed The Housewife From That Incessant Service, But The Feeling That Women Should Stay At Home Is With Us Yet.

In Business Life, That Is, In Its Material Processes, We Eagerly Accept The New. In Social Life, In All Our Social Processes, We Piously, Valiantly, Obdurately, Maintain The Old.