bitter distinctness, unless she marries early, or has some
pressing work for which she is well trained.

Yet even if that which is the profession of woman par excellence be
hers, how can she be perennially so interesting a companion to her
husband and children as if she had keen personal tastes, long her own,
and growing with her growth? Indeed, in that respect the condition of
men is almost the same as that of women. It would be quite the same
were it not for the fact that a man's business or profession is
generally in itself a means of growth, of education, of dignity. He
leans his life against it. He builds his home in the shadow of it. It
binds his days together in a kind of natural piety and makes him
advance in strength and nobility as he "fulfils the common round, the
daily task." And that is the reason why men in the past, if they have
been honorable men, have grown old better than women. Men usually
retain their ability longer, their mental alertness and hospitality.
They add fine quality to fine quality, passing from strength to
strength and preserving in old age whatever has been best in youth. It
was a sudden recognition of this fact which made a young friend of mine
say last winter, "I am not going to parties any more; the men best
worth talking with are too old to dance."

Even with the help of a permanent business or profession, however, the
most interesting men I know are those who have an avocation as well as
a vocation. I mean a taste or work quite apart from the business of
life. This revives, inspires, and cultivates them perpetually. It
matters little what it is, if only it is real and personal, is large
enough to last, and possesses the power of growth. A young sea-captain
from a New England village on a long and lonely voyage falls upon a
copy of Shelley. Appeal is made to his fine but untrained mind, and
the book of the boy poet becomes the seaman's university. The wide
world of poetry and of the other fine arts is opened, and the
Shelleyian specialist becomes a cultivated, original, and charming man.
A busy merchant loves flowers, and in all his free hours studies them.
Each new spring adds knowledge to his knowledge, and his friends
continually bring him their strange discoveries. With growing wealth
he cultivates rare and beautiful plants, and shares them with his
fortunate acquaintances. Happy the companion invited to a walk or a
drive with such observant eyes, such vivid ta