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the Joys of the home or those of an
artistic career. Mrs. Norris has both
a career and a baby. A few years ago
she sprang into sudden fame as the
. author of a tender story of' family
life which she calledJ'Mother."
"I believe that home life the se
rene domesticity of wifehood and
motherhood, offers women the great
est happiness," she said. "At least it
offers the greatest happiness to the
greatest number. I regard myself
simply as a middle class woman who
happens to be able to write stories
and books without interference or
detriment to my real work as a wife
and mother. Why, ,1 never wrote a
line worth while until my little boy
was born: My writing is simply one
of the results of the creative impulse
that came to me through mother
hood!" "But you see, you don't, haye to
make a choice. You have both your
baby and your art! But suppose you
had some' gift which interfered with
your efficiency as a mother.
"Motherhood for the poor woman
means a dedication for 10 or more
years to colds, tq measles, to mumps,
to washing pots and pans, to darning
little stockings, answering little ques
tions about gee-gees and choo-choos.
And if she has a talent for music or
painting she very soon uses it up in
singing a fretful baby to sleep.
"Suppose you knew you absolutely
had to surrender your intellectual life
in order to achieve your sex life.
Wouldn't you think twice before sen
tencing yourself to a perpetual ment
al kindergarten during the very years
which would have to be given to your
art if you were faithful to "it?"
I had put the ease for art as strong
ly as I cquld just to see how Mrs.
Norriswoultf demolish it. But during
my unsympathetic summary of the
tasks of motherhood . her face had
lighted with a beautiful mother-smile.
"But what could be more wonder
ful than answering little questions
about gee-gees and choo-choos?"
she asked me with glistening eyes.
"To me it is worth more than all the
books in the world!"
o o 4 1
THE END OF THE ROAD V
By Berton Braley.
I waved farewell to the Girl Back
For I was eager the world to roam,
To rove by river and lake and hill
With never a master but my own will,
To seek my fortune by field and byre
And come to the goal of my heart's
So I wandered far by land and sea,
But fortune ever eluded me,
And I never came on the flower-face
Of the love I sought in a distant
Women were kind and women were
But the dream of my heart was never
.So I turned my face to the home
Tired and heartsick, I labored back
TO find my love and fortune, too,
Had waited for me the long years
Till weary and broken I ceased to
And came once more to the Girl Back
DIARY OF FATHER TIME
It is a remarkable fact that noth
ing surpasses in modern engineering
the pyramids of Ghizeh, built more
than .5,000 -years ago. It is universally
acknowledged, by the highest profes
sional authorities in architecture and
huilding, that the masonry of the
pyramids could not be surpassed in
these day& and, moreover, Is perfect
as to the purpose for which they were
intended to endure. ' r
After the building of the pyramids
was once commenced it was the fash
ion for about ten centuries to erect
huge, meaningless, -pointed piles of
masonry. Of the hundreds erected
about seventy have resisted the rav-