This is the era of woman's emancipation and the most intellectual and leading women of to-day believe that woman is the equal of man; and has as much right as he to the privileges and freedom of action, in every direction, which he was able so long and so unfairly to reserve for himself. As other women think that way about it and it's much more satisfactory to me, I thoroughly agree with them. Marriage is an agreement between equals, a partnership for mutual convenience and happiness, and exactly the same obligations apply to one, as the other. If men find pleasure in smoking and drinking and gambling and flirting with pretty women, why shouldn't I smoke and drink and gamble and flirt with attractive men? If other women paint their faces, or dye their hair, or wear short skirts to show their silk stockings, or low-necked and low-backed gowns, to make themselves more attractive, why shouldn't I? In regard to my children, I love them, of course, and I believe in bringing them up in accordance with modern, enlightened ideas. First of all, I want their love and affection--the pleasure of having them run to me and throw their arms about me, when I come into the room. If I scold them and spank them and keep interfering with their natural instincts, I might end up by making them afraid of me--as they are of their father. I don't want that. I much prefer to pet them and spoil them and find excuses for them. I have so many interests and engagements of my own to attend to,--social, civic, musical, charitable--that I haven't much time or nerves left, to devote to my children. An up-to-date emancipated woman could hardly be expected to subject herself to that kind of hum-drum strain, in any case. My nervous system is very highly organized and their restless activity makes me irritable. I couldn't stand very much of it--even if I didn't have my own affairs to occupy most of my time. I always try to make it a point, however, to see them and kiss them and have them throw their arms about me, before going to bed. I get the best nurse I can for them--the present one is a Swede, the last one, Irish--but they seem to be such stupid, cranky things! However, one thing I insist upon--they are not to slap the children, and are to let them have their own way, as far as possible. And I make it equally plain to the children that if they have any grievance, they needn't mind about their father--all they have to do is come to me, and throw their arms about my neck, and I will do the best to straighten it out for them. That does a great deal to help me keep their affection.