Before she can do this, she must have development; in and by the doing of this comes constant development; the higher her development, the more perfect her work; the instant her own development is arrested, her creative power stops.  All science, all art, all religion, all experience of life, all knowledge of men—­will help her; the stars in their courses can be won to fight for her.  Could she attain the utmost of knowledge, could she have all possible human genius, it would be none too much.  Reverence holds its breath and goes softly, perceiving what it is in this woman’s power to do; with what divine patience, steadfastness, and inspiration she must work.

Into the home she will create, monotony, stupidity, antagonisms cannot come.  Her foresight will provide occupations and amusements; her loving and alert diplomacy will fend off disputes.  Unconsciously, every member of her family will be as clay in her hands.  More anxiously than any statesman will she meditate on the wisdom of each measure, the bearing of each word.  The least possible governing which is compatible with order will be her first principle; her second, the greatest possible influence which is compatible with the growth of individuality.  Will the woman whose brain and heart are working these problems, as applied to a household, be an adjective? be idle?

She will be no more an adjective than the sun is an adjective in the solar system; no more idle than Nature is idle.  She will be perplexed; she will be weary; she will be disheartened, sometimes.  All creators, save One, have known these pains and grown strong by them.  But she will never withdraw her hand for one instant.  Delays and failures will only set her to casting about for new instrumentalities.  She will press all things into her service.  She will master sciences, that her boys’ evenings need not be dull.  She will be worldly wise, and render to Caesar his dues, that her husband and daughters may have her by their side in all their pleasures.  She will invent, she will surprise, she will forestall, she will remember, she will laugh, she will listen, she will be young, she will be old, and she will be three times loving, loving, loving.

This is too hard?  There is the house to be kept?  And there are poverty and sickness, and there is not time?

Yes, it is hard.  And there is the house to be kept; and there are poverty and sickness; but, God be praised, there is time.  A minute is time.  In one minute may live the essence of all.  I have seen a beggar-woman make half an hour of home on a doorstep, with a basket of broken meat!  And the most perfect home I ever saw was in a little house into the sweet incense of whose fires went no costly things.  A thousand dollars served for a year’s living of father, mother, and three children.  But the mother was a creator of a home; her relation with her children was the most beautiful I have ever seen; even a dull and commonplace man was lifted up