uld take a chance on another world." The idle land is calling to
the idle man, and the world is calling for food; and yet these great
tracts of wheat lands lie just outside our cities, untouched by plow or
harrow, and hungry men walk our streets. The crime which the state
commits in allowing such a condition to prevail is as yet unnamed.

Women have carried many a sore thought in their hearts, feeling that
they have been harshly dealt with by their men folk, and have laid the
blame on the individual man, when in reality the individual has not
been to blame. The whole race is suffering from masculinity; and men
and women are alike to blame for tolerating it.

The baby girl in her cradle gets the first cold blast of it. "A girl?"
says the kind neighbor, "Oh, too bad--I am sure it was quite a
disappointment!"

Then there is the old-country reverence for men, of which many a mother
has been guilty, which exalts the boys of the family far above the
girls, and brings home to the latter, in many, many ways, the grave
mistake of having been born a woman. Many little girls have carried
the sore thought in their hearts from their earliest recollection.

They find out, later, that women's work is taken for granted. A farmer
will allow his daughter to work many weary unpaid years, and when she
gets married he will give her "a feather bed and a cow," and feel that
her claim upon him has been handsomely met. The gift of a feather bed
is rather interesting, too, when you consider that it is the daughter
who has raised the geese, plucked them, and made the bed-tick. But
"father" gives it to her just the same. The son, for a corresponding
term of service, gets a farm.

There was a rich farmer once, who died possessed of three very fine
farms of three hundred and twenty acres each. He left a farm to each
of his three sons. To his daughter Martha, a woman of forty years of
age, the eldest of the family, who had always stayed at home, and
worked for the whole family--he left a cow and one hundred dollars.
The wording of the will ran: "To my dear daughter, Martha, I leave the
sum of one hundred dollars, and one cow named 'Bella.'"

How would you like to be left at forty years of age, with no training
and very little education, facing the world with one hundred dollars
and one cow, even if she were named "Bella"?

To the poor old mother, sixty-five years of age, who had worked far
harder than her husband, who had made butte