hearts of her audience hid deeper than the appeal of a mere
legislative reform. She knew her intellectual ground, but it was
something deeper than intellectuality that went home.

In 1918 the Baby Welfare Movement was at its height. She became
chairman of the Augusta committee and established clinics at the
different schools and social centres.

So I grasp at her life, giving only a slight indication of how full it
was. Her friends were of every type and kind, of every religious
belief or lack of belief, of many different political opinions.

She hated war with her whole soul. It was directly opposed to the
words of Christ. But she wrote me in a dark time:

"Italy is bad, Russia is bad, Cambrai is bad. But those things are
only phases in the eternal struggle of right against wrong. And the
only thing that matters is to personally throw your whole life into
the balance for the things you believe to be right."

How far I failed her! It is given to every man to fight somehow
through the bewilderment of life with the best intentions he can
realize. And life seems to me like a fierce current on which we are
borne rather than anything we can really master--except by forgetting
it. She has left me with the feeling that I must know infinitely more
and try to understand better, and that we are governed most truly only
by the inexplicable. "Meanwhile, there is our life here--Well?"

The verse in this book is put as nearly as possible in the order of
its writing. If there is any merit in any line of it, the merit is of