Our Women and Children
Conducted by Lucille Skaggs Edwards.
Service.
In speaking of the cooking class con
ducted each week at St. PhiUp’s, a
mother said: “No, I’m not goinf to
send my girl; her music lessons cost
me enough and I can teach her how to
cook.”
“But," I replied, "can you teach it
scientifically as will fit her to
render efficient service in her home
or in the homes of others?”
“Indeed," she replied, "I am not
raising my girl to work for others. I
think the day has passed when our
girls and boys should have to go into
service.”
Seeing that I had struck the wrong
key, I hurriedly changed the subject.
This mother works in ser/'.ce to pay
for these music lessons and the girl
seems to possess no spec'al gift fo"
music.
Because a girl studies coosing and
laundering does not destine her for
ever to the kitchen and laundry of the
rich; but if she can cook and wash
better than she can do anything else,
better far that she do a humble thing
well than fail at something higher.
Vocational training is now a recog
nized necessity for the masses.
Now, we all protest against making
servants of a whole race—a condition
called caste—if children in the hum
bler spheres of life are gifted with
genius, no restrictions of soe’ety
should confine them to lowly occupa
tions. It is the spirit of democracy
that all men have the right to rise to
any position for which their talent and
energy fit them. Yet the humble
spheres of labor must be recognized.
These fields, too, will always abide
and we, as a people, are to participate
in them just as do the people of all
nationalities.
That the vocation of domestic ser
vice has disadvantages, we admit. It
indisposes for severe toil; it produces
luxurious tastes; it tends to fastidious
ness, yet sensible people are seldom
thus affected and the generous advan
tages of service far outweigh the dis
advantages. Service cultivates neat
ness, for this is a demand of the rich;
it teaches economy, for the rich are
more economical than the poor; it
teaches obedience; it gives an oppor
tunity for acquiring manners of cul
ture and refinement; and it trains to
regular, systematic mode of living.
To look upon servant life with con
tempt is the grossest vulgarity! This
idea among young people has resulted
in many a good barber, mechanic or
laundress being turned into a booby
doctor, a half-shod lawyer or preach
er, or a poor teacher. How much bet
ter if the years spent on books of law,
medicine and theology, and time lost
in poring over the classics had been
used in farming, successful catering
or in the occupation of some trade.
We have clever, efficient men and
women in the professions, yet we all
know of instances where men and
women would have done better by la
boring with their hands than by at
tempting to follow the learned pro
fessions.
All labor is honorable. Serving oth
ers has been the vocation of all the
world’s heroes and martyrs. Christ,
our Saviour, came to serve; He suf
fered in serving; and in serving He
died!
Do you possess the gift of service,
the gentle hand, the soft voice, the
willing mind, the tender, unselfish
heart?
Despise not your gift, for it is a
blessing indeed. What, an opportu
nity to serve the aged, little children,
the strong and the feeble! Honor
I your calling, dignify your labor by
your own fine qualities. Put energy
and brains into the humblest work,
and progress and success are certain
to those who are patient, vigilant and
aspiring.
OPPORTUNITY.
(By Berton Braley.)
With doubt and dismay you are smit
t en
You think there’s no chance for you,
son?
Why, the best books haven’t been
written
The best race hasn’t been run,
TTie best score hasn’t been made yet,
The best song hasn't been sung,
The best tune hasn’t been played yet.
Cheer up, for the world is young.
No chance? Why the world is just
eager
For things that you ought to create
Its store of true wealth is still meager
Its needs are incessant and great,
It yearns for more power and beauty
More laughter and love and ro
mance,
More loyalty, labor and duty,
No chance—-why there’s nothing but
chance!
For the best verse hasn’t been rhymed
yet
The best house hasn’t been planned.
The highest peak hasn’t been climbed
yet
The mightiest rivers aren’t spanned.
Don’t worry and fret, faint hearted,
The chances have just begun,
For the Best jobs haven’t been started
The Best work hasn’t been done.
“OLD FIFTEEN CENTS."
(By Louise Mayers Meredith.)
Mary and her visitor were chatting
all day, discussing the boll weevil,
on the porch. A squeak from the rick
ety buggy in front of the gate attract
ed their attention and they turned to j
see the colored laundress climb in be- j
side a bundle of soiled clothes, slap- j
ping the reins as she clucked to her
rawboned but energetic steed.
“Did you ever hear about that
horse?” the hostess inquired, in an '
swer to her friend’s comment on the
washerwoman’s rig.
“Well, they have here in town what
they call ‘hoss swappin’ alley.’ It’s an
alley down in the colored settlement
—down there back of the courthouse—
where the ‘po’ white trash’ and their
old run-down stock assemble when
they come in town every first Monday.
They loll around on their wagon beds
cussing this dry town, unraveling the
political tangle, solving domestic prob
lems; and then, toward the shank of
the afternoon, they get up and stretch
and ‘take a chaw terbaccer’ and turn
around and swap horses. They all
get ‘stung,’ as the saying goes, so no
body ‘has anything’ on anybody else—
and the next first Monday they shuffle
in and have a new deal.
Well, late one afternoon last sum
mer, when these unthrifty farmers
were hitching up and driving off be
hind their newly acquired possessions,
and the Negroes were standing around
finishing their watermelons, this laun
dress of mine happened to pass by the
alley. Seeing a poor old horse lying
down with his tongue hanging out she
hunted up the owner and asked if it
were for sale. Receiving an affirma
tive answer she declined a proffered
and juicy slice of melon, and knelt to
examine the animal. He had two
good, seeable eyes, a weak but willing
heart, and, though his 'marst’r’ disre
membered his age, and though the
beast remained speechless, his molars
loudly proclaimed his youth.
“His prospective purchaser, return
ing a mental verdict of starvation plus
neglect, shook her head in sympathetic
silence; while she considered the
therapeutic value of the grass and oats
on her own diminutive and unpreten
tious farm. Introspectively she pictur
ed this ill-treated quadruped as he
would be in a few' months—eating sug
ar from her sw'arthy hand and draw
ing her, with her laundry, in state to
the doors of her patrons. But the joy
of anticipation broke not upon the
solemnity of her countenance, as she
observed to the owner that she sup
po the ‘po’ thing ’u’d be plum’ tuck’r’d
out by mornin’.’ Obviously her pre
diction would come true and he agreed
as much between despondent nods—
reflecting aloud that he had sunk one
hundred and fifty dollars there.
“She seemed to feel sorry for the
horse—seemed to hate for the ’po’
thing’ to be left to die thus amid pub
licity—so she offered the owner fif
teen cents for the horse, adding that
if he were her own and it did die, she
wouldn’t mind taking it home and giv
ing it a decent burial. He thereupon
gave her a deed to the property and
drove off considering himself fifteen
cents to the good.
“She waited until her feasting
friends had gone and left her and their
watermelon rinds, alone in the alley
with ‘Old Fifteen Cents’—then she
tried to help him up. No, he was too
weak. So she rubbed him all over,
covered him with her shawl, and came
down here and begged me for a bottle
of liniment and some milk. The horse
was too far gone to drink the milk, so
she just poured it in him till he got
strength enough to swallow. Then she
massaged him with the liniment and
flexed the muscles in his legs, so that
after a while he was able to stand
and shift his lack of weight from one
foot to another. Leaving him ‘taking
notice,’ she slipped off to a near-by
feed store and exchanged a portion
of her day’s wages for some bran mash
—for which barter the horse was ex
tremely thankful.
"Slowly and with great care, that
night, she led her noble charger over
the solitary country road to her pump,
where he had a cooling drink and sank
into a peaceful slumber—so restful
and dreamless, in fact, that he was
able next morning to arise and look
about of his own accord.
“That was more than a year ago,
and now think what he is. She has
been offered fifty dollars, but says
sh'd refuse seventy-five. I wish you
might hear her talk about him. She
said the funniest thing the other day.
‘My dear,’ she said, ‘tooby sho’ ’twa’n’t
so mighty long To’ I tuck ’n’ fassen
him ter de plow’ en make him break
up all de new groun’—but, Mis’ Ma’y,
de’s one thing w’at sho’ do make me
prutty near sick everytime I thinks
'bout dat hoss—hit makes me fell des
lak a-gwine ter bed—yer know, Mis’
Ma’y, I believes I s’u’d er got dat hoss
fer er dime.’’—Mothers’ Magazine.
The very highest products of man’s
life in this world are his Ideas and
ideals.—Hamilton Wright Mabie.
Thomas
Kilpatrick & Co.
sell
Good Dry Goods
and
Ready-to-wear Clothes
priced according
to quality
Courteous Service
Always
Carl H. Johnson Harry E. Swanson
Johnson & Swanson
Funeral Directors
and Embalmers
Phone Douglas 2342
2204 Cuming Street
COMBS'
JEWELRY STORE
is just the
Right Kind
of a Jewelry Store for
Merchandise or Repairs of
any kind
1520 Douglas Street
YES—ICE CREAM
any style, for any occasion
1. A. DALZELL
Quality First
1824 Cuming St. Tel. Doug. 616
H. GROSS
Lumber and
Wrecking
2lsi and Paul Streets
J. A. Edholm E. W. Sherman
Standard Laundry
24th, Near Lake Street
Phone Webster 130
