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UT of the ugliness of pain beauty may spring,—the child from the travail and suffering of his mother; the picture from that of the artist; the poem, the great book from the hardly-caught, anguish-snatched inspiration, wrought in labour, of its author,—and out of the storm and frost, and the painful melting of winter, spring.

With each birth there must also be love, the courage, the persistency of love, which faces the torture of production, that the child of the