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remaining two, while their children are taking care of themselves-with all that that phrase implies-is it any wonder that homes are disrupted and foolish women are seeking 'careers' while their abandoned children and husbands seek their 'happiness' in diverse and divergent ways?"

I was astonished at this exhibition of strong feeling on her part and while. mentally agreeing with her, I appeared to disagree by reminding her that very often it was the husband who was the selfish pleasure-seeker forgetting his home ties.

"I'll admit the truth of your argument,' she replied, "but you study the history of disrupted or inharmonious homes that come under your knowledge for the next few months, and see if in the majority of cases the beginning of it was not on account of the woman's distorted sense of her part in the matrimonial partnership, with the

resulting discouragement and digression on the part of her husband."

At this time Myrtle was not married (I had been for many years), so, naturally, while secretly concurring, I charged her with unfairness and of being an idealist; but as we were nearing the end of our ride together, I closed the discussion by asking her about the new book she had under way and about which she had told me during its first "glimmering" (to use her own expression) some time before-Lavender and Old Lace. She reported its progress and then reverted to the first part of our conversation, the disrupted homes, which seemed to weigh upon her. Then referring to her novel, she spoke freely. I recall her enthusiasm and her words as though it were but yesterday, for to-day they seem prophetic: "O, Mary B.! I know it will be a success; don't you feel that it will be?" I asked her what she

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would call success with her novel. "Why,
it would mean thousands of copies sold,
which would indicate that my work was
pleasing, and it would mean, not only the
money I should have to do the things I
have dreamed about, but, greater than that,
it would mean that there is a sure and
pleasant way I may have of preaching my
own theology or philosophy, or what you
may call it sugar-coated, or in homoeo-
pathic doses. We take our sermons and
philosophy so much more readily through
fiction than fact, than through didactic
preaching. See what a rare opportunity I
should have of influencing young people—
especially young women-for I shall
always write stories of simple lives and
homes-stories that I hope will make
women think of their particular duties in
the home life, and that will set before young
girls a high ideal of life-the highest
ideal-as exemplified in daily home life,

F

I do Foreword

and, perhaps, homely, simple tasks. I do

not believe in divorce, and I am going to try to lift my voice against it by my indirect preaching with the pen. Did you ever ponder on the power of the printed word, Mary B.? Every time I see that sentence on our great book store's window shades-'Words are the only things that last'-I am duly thankful for my gift of writing and more determined to perfect myself in that art of expression. 'Careers'! As though there could be a greater career for a woman than making a happy home!"

Here our ways parted for that day. Her earnestness greatly impressed me, and in the light of subsequent events, this recital seems peculiarly pertinent here.

"Success," as she had defined it for herself, she gained in full and overflowing measure. Within a short time after the meeting above recorded, Lavender and Old Lace made its appearance (1902), to

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meet with such favour that over five hundred thousand copies were sold. It was translated into several foreign languages, Swedish among them, and has been dramatised.

It is unnecessary to dwell upon the story of her phenomenal success with the books which in rapid succession followed Lavender. Suffice it to say in each novel she held to her early ideals and came into heart touch with many thousands of homes throughout the world. The English friends of this gifted writer found in her books "a dash of Jane Austen." Besides writing stories of absorbing heart-interest, she had "her opportunity" of putting into the mouths of her characters bits of her own philosophy. Sometimes in most beautiful, poetical paragraphs, often in witty epigrams couched in the colloquial language of some of her rustic characters; but she never wrote a story that might