Swept into this little nook in the industries of the place, I left the Farming Group forever. It is often stated that the home circle is the sphere of women, but at times it is a very narrow circle--a very narrowing circle to its occupants. There are thousands who enter it as brilliant young ladies, and come from it at the end of a few years morbid, harassed, depressed; sunk in all the graces and powers that make a woman's life beautiful and distinct from a man's. The circle in many cases is so narrow that there is no room for growth. The humdrum toils, the petty cares and rude contact with hired help, sink many a charming woman into a domestic drudge and scold. It has been asserted that Associations and Communities may do well for men, but that women can never get along in them. The experience of Brook Farm testifies against the assertion. If ever there was a clear record of faithfulness and devotion, of sacrifice, of love of principle, and earnest, unselfish work for unselfish ends, the women toilers of Brook Farm can claim it and secure it without cavil. Morning and evening, in season and out of season, in heat and cold, they were ever at their posts. And the self-imposed toil made them grow great. It opened their hearts as they daily saw the devotion of others. It was for the meanest a life above humdrum, and for the greatest something far, infinitely far beyond. They looked into the gates of life and saw beyond charming visions, and hopes springing up for all. They saw protection for all, even to the meanest of God's creatures; a life beyond cold charity, up among the attributes of the Creator's justice; an even garment for all, protecting the weak children of life against the strong, the strong against the machinations of the weak. How could they grow otherwise than great? Wherever woman's hands were wanted to work, wherever woman's head was wanted to plan, and wherever woman's care and sympathy were needed, they were always forthcoming. Some were witty, too. One of our ladies, with her hands full of apple blossoms and her eyes bright as stars, was met by Mr. Ripley, who said to her, "You have been foraging, I see!" "Oh, no," she said, with an arch smile, "I do not go _foraging_." The pupils of the school took the infection of labor. At first often haughty and distant, they soon mellowed, and were ready to assist the young associative friends, with whom they became acquainted, in various little works, and enjoyed the labor. The prevailing tone was health. Sickness was a rarity to either sex. The pupils mingled with the games and sporty, walks, rides and parties, and many seemed as devoted as though belonging to the body, and when they returned from vacations, it was with happy greetings to all and from all, and like returning home, rather than to tasks.