men ate supper, and afterwards I washed up the dishes. Such was my
life in those days; and I can see before me the face of horror with
which Sylvia listened to the story. But these things are common in
the experience of women who live upon pioneer farms, and toil as the
slave-woman has toiled since civilization began.

We won out, and my husband made money. I centred my energies upon
getting school-time for my children; and because I had resolved that
they should not grow ahead of me, I sat up at night, and studied
their books. When the oldest boy was ready for high-school, we moved
to a town, where my husband had bought a granary business. By that
time I had become a physical wreck, with a list of ailments too
painful to describe. But I still had my craving for knowledge, and
my illness was my salvation, in a way--it got me a hired girl, and
time to patronize the free library.

I had never had any sort of superstition or prejudice, and when I
got into the world of books, I began quickly to find my way. I
travelled into by-paths, of course; I got Christian Science badly,
and New Thought in a mild attack. I still have in my mind what the
sober reader would doubtless consider queer kinks; for instance, I
still practice "mental healing," in a form, and I don't always tell
my secret thoughts about Theosophy and Spiritualism. But almost at
once I worked myself out of the religion I had been taught, and away
from my husband's politics, and the drugs of my doctors. One of the
first subjects I read about was health; I came upon a book on
fasting, and went away upon a visit and tried it, and came back home
a new woman, with a new life before me.

In all of these matters my husband fought me at every step. He