Library of Information on Women's Issues

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stretches out his arms to it, and would lay his heart against a thing he loves, then, far off along the horizon he shall see a light play. He must go towards it. The thing he loves will not journey with him; he must travel alone. When he presses somewhat to his burning heart, crying, 'Mine, mine, my own!' he shall hear a voice--'Renounce! renounce! this is not thine!'" "He shall succeed?" He said, "He shall fail. When he runs with others they shall reach the goal before him. For strange voices shall call to him and strange lights shall beckon him, and he must wait and listen. And this shall be the strangest: far off across the burning sands where, to other men, there is only the desert's waste, he shall see a blue sea! On that sea the sun shines always, and the water is blue as burning amethyst, and the foam is white on the shore. A great land rises from it, and he shall see upon the mountain-tops burning gold." The mother said, "He shall reach it?" And he smiled curiously. She said, "It is real?" And he said, "What IS real?" And she looked up between his half-closed eyelids, and said, "Touch." And he leaned forward and laid his hand upon the sleeper, and whispered to it, smiling; and this only she heard--"This shall be thy reward--that the ideal shall be real to thee." And the child trembled; but the mother slept on heavily and her brain- picture vanished. But deep within her the antenatal thing that lay here had a dream. In those eyes that had never seen the day, in that half- shaped brain was a sensation of light! Light--that it never had seen. Light--that perhaps it never should see. Light--that existed somewhere! And already it had its reward: the Ideal was real to it. London. VII. IN A RUINED CHAPEL. "I cannot forgive--I love." There are four bare walls; there is a Christ upon the walls, in red, carrying his cross; there is a Blessed Bambino with the face rubbed out; there is Madonna in blue and red; there are Roman soldiers and a Christ with tied hands. All the roof is gone; overhead is the blue, blue Italian sky; the rain has beaten holes in the walls, and the plaster is peeling

Wicking Sleepwear	Night Sweats
Hot Flashes	Menopause