BEAUTY IN THE COUNTJIT. 201 



A full-grown woman is, too, physically stronger 

 than a man. Her physique excels man's. Look at 

 her torso, at the size, the fulness, the rounded firm- 

 ness, the depth of the chest. There is a nobleness 

 about it. Shoulders, arms, limbs, all reach a breadth 

 of make seldom seen in man. There is more than 

 merely sufficient — there is a luxuriance indicating a 

 surpassing vigour. And this occurs without effort. 

 She needs no long manual labour, no exhaustive 

 gymnastic exercise, nor any special care in food or 

 training. It is difficult not to envy the superb 

 physique and beautiful carriage of some women. 

 They are so strong without effort. 



III. — An Arm. 



A large white arm, bare, in the sunshine, to the 

 shoulder, carelessly leant against a low red wall, 

 lingers in my memory. There was a house roofed 

 with old gray stone slates in the background, and 

 peaches trained up by the window. The low garden 

 wall of red brick — ancient red brick, not the pale, 

 dusty blocks of these days — was streaked with dry 

 mosses hiding the mortar. Clear and brilliant, the 

 gaudy sun of morning shone down upon her as she 

 stood in the gateway, resting her arm on the red wall, 

 and pressing on the mosses which the heat had dried. 

 Her face I do not remember, only the arm. She had 

 come out from dairy work, which needs bare arms, 

 and stood facing the bold sun. It was very large — 

 some might have called it immense — and yet natural 

 and justly proportioned to the woman, her work, and 



