attention. Children are the first to occupy a woman's attention after her marriage; but if she is obliged to work, she makes up for her absence with a nursemaid versed in the principles of upbringing. In the small towns the mother does not work: she is the mistress of her house and the manager of her family's affairs. And I believe that a mother, wherever she may be, should not go out into the field of work unless necessity overtakes her. It is understood of the American woman that she does her housework herself — a maid costs a considerable sum of her means — but she calls in a woman who comes once a week for the heavy work. And this is what makes the man feel at home in his house, unlike the men of this country; for the American father is the most important part of the household, and not merely for earning the livelihood.

Here, the men spend their leisure hours in a café, where they sit with their companions — men likewise; this is rare in America, for a man's time of rest belongs to his family, and he spends it within the home, his wife keeping him company in it. When a woman feels the responsibility of her home and the companionship of her husband, she draws him to spend as much time as possible in the house.

As for divorce in America, it results from the lack of harmony between the two persons; neither poverty nor childlessness is the essential cause. If the American man tries to sit with his wife for several hours together and finds no happiness in them, he counts his marriage a failure. Here the

woman is not her husband's friend, and the reason for that is that social conditions stand in the way of friendship between the sexes at all the stages of life. And the failure of the American

marriage goes back to our asking much of it: for us it is not merely an idea of security and procreation, but success in friendship, and harmony in thinking and inclinations.

Morning Hour
With the morning there flew to my bed
two little ones — in the age of roses...
They burrowed under my quilt and sprang upon me:
with two faces tinted rosy in color,
and eyes that outshine the sun in radiance,
and the stars in brimming and in dance...
They crowded upon my arms and my neck, tickling and nuzzling,
and snatched my kisses from each other, a storm of uproar and protest...
So sweet in my mouth grew the sips of coffee
that comes to me, by custom, in bed
on a tray of brass,
as though it were gold!
•
Suddenly a worry seized me...
I feared a reckless wing might rise
and fling my coffee over the pillows and sheets!
And I set about warning the two little ones,
feigning frowns and gravity!
And they met me with loud clowning —
nay, with an unknowing drunkenness —
...two runaway horses!!
•
The matter slipped away from me.
From my hand the halter broke loose,
so I took up a posture of defense
and entrenched myself at the edge of the bed,
guarding the cup with both my hands,
my eyes darting, fluttering and fearful,
from one little one to the other —
in a hysteria of laughter
without beginning and without end...
•
And like an arrow there pierced my head
a scene out of my own past, with my mother and my brothers —
and I gave in, cup and all,
sipping the last of its coffee —
and turned back to the two excited little ones,
drowning with them... in peals of laughter
Aphrodite
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