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For Woman’s Work.
LISTENING IN THE RAIN.
The year is slowly creeping by,
They have gathered the golden grain,
And in my heart is an echoing cry,
As it throbs with its weight of pain.
I sit ’neath the trees with their tinted leaves
All varnished with autumn’s stain,
And I wait, and watch, while my spirit grieves
For a form through the falling rain.
CHORUS.
Listening, I am listening,
Listening in the rain;
Watching, and sadly waiting,
Listening in the rain.
In every drop as it gently fa Is
To the earth with its music tone,
I hear love’s whisper—my darling calls,
She comes, when I am’alone.
The low green mound near yonder hill
Where my sweet one long has lain,
Is vacant now, for my darling will
Come in this falling rain.—Chorus.
I hear through the rain her dainty feet,
The touch of her hand meets mine,
My brow is fanned by her breath so sweet
As her arms about me twine.
She is not lost, she is near, so near
I hear her heart’s refrain,
And I mingle my tears with the raindrops clear
While I listen in the rain.—Chorus,
Sometime no grave will rise between
Her loving heart and mine,
I shall be with her in realms I ween
In happiness divine.
No more shall I wait ’neath the rustling leaves
While my soul is wrought with pain,
And ne’er shall I list while my spirit grieves
For a voice through the falling rain.
CHORUS.
She will be with me, where sunny days
Shall linger on for aye,
’Mid pastures green, and pleasant ways,
To sing His praise on high.
Mrs. S. C. Hazlett-Bevis.
For Woman’s Work
THE ERUDITE WOMAN.
VER and anon some light
scribbler proclaims a senti
ment something after this
wise: “ Let those like the
brainy woman who will, but
for me, give me the sweet, gentle little
creatures who know how to cook I’’ Then
we are deluged with such advice as this:
“If you want a good-natured husband
who always lets you have your own way,
give him plenty of wholesome, well-cooked
food, and ask no favors until after dinner.”
Or to give the poetic version, man may be
“ Endowed with genius from the gods,
But apt to take his temper from his dinner.’’
The words of that bigoted old English
savant, Dr. Samuel Johnson—are too often
quoted:
“ A man is better pleased when he has a
good dinner upon his table than when his
wife talks Greek.”
This is from a man who took more pleas
ure in the contemplation of a leg of mut
ton than in viewing a beautiful landscape.
It is related that he fussed with his wife so
continually about his dinner that once she
called to him when about to say grace and
said—
“ Nay, hold, Mr. Johnson, and do not
make a farce of thanking God for a dinner
which in a few minutes you will pronounce
not eatable.”
For one, I am a little less cynical than
to believe that the affections of men depend
so greatly on gastronomy; and I believe
that there are deeper reasons for the grant
ing of “favors ” than the influence of a
“ good dinner.” Be that as it may, it is
the insinuation that in woman learning is
incompatible with domesticity, which is
so unacceptable to my sense of justice, and
which reason can easily refute. The eru
dite woman is so often contrasted disadvan
tageously with the sweet, the domestic,
and the lovable woman, that one might
be led to believe that they are an alien
class which under no circumstances could
possess any of the above-mentioned ad
mirable qualities; that with intellectual
attainments the feminine character must
relinquish all claim to those gentle graces
and homely accomplishments requisite to
the charming woman and successful house
wife. Such an intimation seems to me un
fair, both to historical and existing types
of womanhood.
There are and have been those lacking
in domestic qualifications who are unamia
ble and ungracious. We meet, occasionally
in a lifetime, with women who bear a
semblance to Zantippe for shrewishness, to
the mother of Lord Byron for ungovernable
passion and heartlessness, to Lady Mary
Montagu for untidiness—but is it not
rather illogical to lay these faults to much
learning?
Perhaps if the wife of Socrates had ex
ercised her mind more and her tongue less,
her reputation would not have been quite
so unsavory; if Lady Byron had been a
wiser woman she would have been a better
mother; and there is no reason in conclud
ing that a knowledge of languages and a
gift for letter-writing gave Lady Mary an
aversion for the details and niceties of the
toilet. We would rather suppose that it
was because she had not known a mother’s
care.
Because “ brainy ” women are sometimes
unattractive is no argument that intellect
uality is the detrimental feature in their
characters; there is sure to be some better
reason. I cannot see how intelligence and
culture can in any way unfit one for the
homely tasks or the amenities of life.
Learning ever ennobles labor. The better
trained and developed the mind is, the bet
ter it can guide with wisdom the work of
the hands.
I believe a woman is better fitted for a
mother who understands the science of
physiology and hygiene ; that she may be a
more successful cook if she knows some
thing of physical science and chemistry;
reading and knowledge that broadens the
mind makes her a more companionable
wife, adds a truer grace to her home life,
and opens a wider field for usefulness.
There is no reason why a woman who is
brilliant intellectually, who is an accom
plished linguist and writer, cannot be an
amiable wife, a diligent housekeeper
and devoted mother. If, as a girl,
she preferred books to “fancy work,”
the study of dead and modern languages to
the fashion plates; if she liked sociability
and useful accomplishments, but gave no
thought to society “fads,” who can say
that she or the home she makes is the
worse for it?
Not long since, an English critic was
asked his opinion as to the best prose wri
ters of the language; he mentioned three
names, and one of them was Charlotte
Bronte. Where could we find a better ex
ample of the erudite home-maker than in
the story of her life? How faithfully and
well did she perform the domestic tasks of
that ill-fated moorland home. We all
know the little poem telling of her paring
potatoes for the old half-blind servant.
Could she have been more unselfish, more
patient, truer to every duty if she had
grown up in ignorance? She was a prodigy
of learning as a child, and her education
was of the highest order; what a help,
what a comfort, what a pillar to lean upon
it must have been in the days of anguish
and loneliness!
George Eliot, whom the late Sidney
Lanier, of John Hopkins University, rank
ed as first among English novelists, is an
other example of a “ brainy ” woman who
was domestic. Mr. Lanier says of her:
“ She had all that homely love which
comes with the successful administration
of breakfast, dinner, and supper; besides
knowing the mystery of good bread and
coffee, she was widely versed in theology,
philosophy and the movements of modern
science. She knew French, German and
Italian, and had, besides, a good knowledge
of Latin, Greek, Russian and Hebrew.”
The illustrations could be multiplied in
definitely : I will mention Mary Somer
ville, who occupies a unique place in the
world of letters. Her intellect was
eminently mathematical, and of her
labors for the advancement of science, it
was said that not twenty men in France
could read understandingly her book—
“ Mechanism of the Heavens,” so profound
was her learning and so deep her research
in science. In her time, interest in the
higher education of women was being
awakened. Mrs. Somerville’s daughter
writes:
“It was considered that if women were
to receive the solid education of men they
would forfeit much of their feminine grace
and become unfit to perform their domestic
duties. My mother was one of the bright
est examples of the fallacy of this old
world theory, for no one was more thor
oughly and gracefully feminine than she
was, both in manner and appearance. * *
* No amount of scientific labor ever in
duced her to neglect her duties. * * *
read Homer an hour every morning
before breakfast, taught her children three
hours every morning, managed her house
carefully, read the newspapers and the
most important new books on all subjects,
at the same time being busily engaged in
writing for the press; besides all this she
visited and received friends. She was a
remarkably neat and skillful needle woman;
she spoke French, Italian and German.
Her papers and all that belonged to her
were invariably in the most beautiful or
der. She was skilled in cookery, and
made a quantity of orange marmalade for
Sir Edward Parry when he was preparing
for his three years expedition to the Arctic
Seas * *• *. She took the liveliest in
terest in all that has been done of late
years to extend high class education to
women, both classical and scientific. * *
* Her scientific library was presented
to Girton College as the best fulfillment of
her wishes.”
This shows what a woman may be whose
heart and head are both perfectly developed.
The modern taste for detailed biograph-
WOMAN’S WORK.
ical sketches of noted persons, has given
the world many valuable pictures of lovely
home life combined with a public or literary
career. T. C. De Leon’s charming sketch
of Mrs. Augusta Evans-Wilson and her
home “ Ashland,” near Mobile, Alabama,
is one of many such revelations we have
had. The two Southern women most
eminent, perhaps, in our literature—Mrs.
Wilson and Marion Harland—are both
famous house-keepers and authority in
domestic matters.
As well tell me that a man is unfitted
for a husband because he has taken a degree
at John Hopkins, as that a woman is un
fit for domestic life who is scholarly and
thoroughly cultivated. A woman needs
to know all she can possibly gain in every
branch of learning to best fit her for a wife
and mother, for they are the most re
sponsible and highest positions entrusted
to human hands; and if she is a failure, be
sure it is not because she knows too much,
but too little. If she has every grace of
heart and is possessed of every domestic
virtue, her grace becomes more gracious,
her sweetness of richer flavor, her every act
of daily ministering has an added refine
ment from her hands if she is guided by a
deep and broad intellectuality. Erudition
is the “ saving grace ” of those who possess
it to the exclusion of other commendablq
qualities; it is the crowning grace of those
who happily combine it with those qualities;
it is ever a jewel of purest ray, whether it
redeems a meager setting, or enhances the
loveliness of that ornately chased. To
every woman it is gain; she who has it
not misses a prerogative that higher civili
zation has given her. The secret of sweet
temper and domestic attainments does not
lie in a disdain of books—as some frivolous
writers seem to think—but in a loving
heart, intelligent mind and systematic in
dustry in every day duties. These duties
are more neglected for “society” than
they are for books. Where you find one
woman who makes reading a necessary
part of her life, you will find scores who are
“in the swim,” and whose god is fashion.
I, for one, say, let there be more learn
ing and less gossip and “ style.”
Great possibilities are in the grasp of the
woman of to-day; she may be as Minerva
for wisdom, as Hygeia for physical per
fection, and reign a queen of exquisite
grace and strength in the realm of home.
Howard Meriwether Lovett.
For Woman’s Work.
LEAVES FRESHLY CUT.
Had we uttered the invocation in the
old song to Father Time, to “ turn back
ward in his flight,” the answer would
seem to have come in the story of John
Gray in this month’s issue of Lippincott.
We are living one hundred years ago, and
with Mrs. Falconer, seeing an Indian
in every tree stump as we sit in the doors
of log houses of the pioneer settlers of the
Blue-grass State.
The simple, earnest, ambitious—to that
degree which insures success—character
of the hero, is well drawn.
The scene between Stafford and Peter is
cleverly painted, in truth too cleverly,
for we would not expect from men who
had risen no higher than they, the witty
speeches which drop from their lips.
The pathetic unselfishness of Mrs. Fal
coner is a perfect contrast to the weak,
purely selfish nature of her niece, Amy.
We cannot help regretting that John’s
youthful episode with Amy should have
set in vibration a harsh chord which he
says himself prevented the after years
welling forth into a perfect melody.
An echo of the dread wrongs commit
ted in the western part of this country, of
which we are so proud, comes to us in the
short story, The Woman of the Plains, in
the same magazine.
*****
The current issue of Harper’s Monthly
begins with a short study of Greek sculp
ture, as it was used to decorate tombs
in ancient days. The interesting paper
concludes with Dr. Jowett’s translation of
the famous funeral oration of Pericles.
Our interest is kept alive in Mary
Wilkins’ story, Jane Field.
Julian Ralph’s account of Montana; The
Treasure State of the Union, seems to war
rant the name, for the treasures seem il
limitable.
Mr. Lowell’s paper on The Old English
Dramatists is a mental tonic necessi
tating active thought and broad knowledge
to follow the deep thinking of the writer.
From Leopold's Window, a story in the
same magazine, by Katharine Pearson
Woods, leaves us in doubt as to the object
of the writer, or whether there was any
object in sending it forth to the reading
public. If it is to prove that love is sel
fish, it fails in that, for we could not be so
unjust to the genus homo as to take Leo
pold as a type of any class. Perhaps it is
intended to teach that time-honored lesson
that each woman is responsible for the
esteem in which her sex is held by men.
*****
The Century opens this month with
a very interesting and profusely illustra
ted account of the wonderful growth and
improvement of the Hungarian capital,
Buda-Pesth, the consolidated municipality
of the sister towns Buda and Pesth lying on
opposite sides of the Danube. Almost
utopian does the description sound—a city
where there are no such things as land
booms and the consequent depressions,
where the food supply is under such con
trol as to prevent the seeking of any but
what is wholesome, and where the public,
especially the poor, are provided with
free baths, also with hot sulphur baths
from the springs possessing curative prop
erties.
As we would expect, the educational,
literary and artistic progress is shown to
be very decided ; the university
ranking with the best in the
land which we are accustomed to
think of as standing unrivalled as
the seat of deep learning and profound wis
dom—der Faderland.
Bristling with thought and humor are
the chapters of Weir Mitchell’s story,
Characteristics. The experience of the
Character Doctor is given. Especially
were we struck by the words of the Profes
sor when consulted by the young physi
cian, who found himself worn out by his
sympathies.
“ Sympathy should harden by repeated
blows into the tempered steel of usefulness,
which has values in proportion to what it
has borne; otherwise it and you are use
less.”
The physician having changed his avo
cation and put up the novel sign,“Character
Doctor,” is called upon by the always
recognized man with the note-book and
pencil and soiled fingers. On stating that
he is social reporter for the Standard, he is
met with the characterization: “ A col
lector of garbage to manure with fools’
vanities the devil’s farms.”
No wonder that, as is stated, the look ol
“ alert smartness ” faded out of his face.
Is not the “ summing up,” a sad com
mentary on our newspapers to which we
so often refer as an “ educational means.”
How can we claim this, when so often
the offensive matter is given forth without
even the flimsy covering of proper lan
guage ; the noisome odor given forth is
sufficient to taint, if not utterly ruin, many
innocent minds, attracted as youth in
variably is by whatever is new.
Like Oliver, we, at the concluding lines,
cry for more of this clever work of Dr.
Mitchell’s.
Most fitting is the tribute paid to the
great,good man, Roswell Smith,the founder
of this magazine, originator of the idea
which has eventuated in the Century Dic
tionary, in itself sufficient to render his
name immortal.
Can we wonder at the success of his life
work when his friend and biographer tells
us of the simple faith which impelled him
to ask Divine guidance in the smallest
affairs of life, when it was his avowed
intention “to make all his work serviceable
to that kingdom for whose coming he pray
ed ” and his desire that his two magazines,
Century and St. Nicholas should pour into
the country a constant stream of refining
influence?
Working to such an end, may not his
success in achievement inspire his succes
sors to emulate his example and keep the
pages of their publications pure and worthy
of the reputation which, through this man’s
efforts, they have gained. So may it be,
pray we all who are thankful that Ros
well Smith lived.
Cruel are those women, and most to be
reprobated, who laugh at a bashful man.
It is the higher order of human beings
whom bashfulness attacks. It is the pre
cursor of many excellencies, like the vigil
of the knight, and if it is patiently and brave
ly borne, the knight is thrice a hero. It
is this recollection which can alone sus
tain the bashful man under his sufferings.
But not all the good scholars and superior
men fail in drawing rooms. No rule is
without an exception; very shy men have
often become very attractive men of society.
The first refuge, though, of the bashful of
either sex is repellent—they assume an
air of hauteur. It is a natural fence, a con
venient armor, and many a woman has
fought a battle behind it through life.
No doubt it has been the armor of many
a so-called cold person.
The path that once has been trod
Is never so rough to the feet;
And the lesson we once have learned
Is never so hard to repeat.
The truest characters of ignorance
Are vanity and pride and pert pretence,
As blind men used to bear their noses higher
Than those that have their eyes and sight entire.
—Samuel Butler.
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