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X THE HOUSEHOLD X
A Department of Expression Tor Those Who Teel and Think.
ONLY A WORKING GIRL
I know I am only a working girl, and am not ashamed to say
I belong to the class of those who toil for a living day by day.
With willing hand I press along in paths that I must tread,
Proud I have the strength and skill to earn my daily bread.
I belong to the “lower classes”; that’s a phrase w T e meet —
And there’s some who sneer at the working girls as they pass them
on the street,
They stare at us in proud disdain, and their lips in scorn will curl,
And oftentimes we hear them say, “She’s only a working girl!”
Only a working girl, thank God! With willing hands and heart;
Able to earn my daily bread, and in life’s battle take my part.
You could afford me no title I would be more proud to own;
And stand as high in the sight of God as the Queen upon the throne.
Gentle folks, who pride yourselves, upon your wealth and birth,
And look with scorn on those who have naught but honest worth;
Your gentle birth we laugh to scorn, for we hold this our creed —
That none are gentle save the one who does the gentle deed.
We are only “lower classes”; but the Holy Scriptures tell
How when the King of Glory came down on earth to dwell;
Not with the rich and mighty, ’neath costly palace dome,
But with the poor and lowly, He chose to make His home.
He was one of the “lower classes,” and He had to toil for bread;
So poor that He sometimes had no place to lay His head.
He knew what it was to labor and toil the whole day through;
He knows how we get tired, for He’s been tired, too.
Oh, working girl, remember, it is neither crime nor shame,
To work for honest wages, since Christ has done the same;
And wealth and high position must seem of little worth,
To those whose fellow r laborer is King of Heaven and earth.
So when you meet with scornful sneers, just lift your head in pride;
The sneers of honest womanhood can turn such sneers aside,
And some day they will understand, that the purest, brightest pearl
Mid the gems of noble womanhood, is only a “Working Girl.” —E.
CHAT.
I WONDER if all of you know con
cerning the woman who holds the
highest position of honor and trust
that is occupied by any woman in
America. She is Dr. Ella Flagg
Young, superintendent of public
schools in Chicago. She was given
the position because of her well
known capability, although men of
high official standing, among them
several presidents of universities,
were among her competitors.
Dr. Young, who is a woman of large
brain and a warm heart, has 300,000
children under her supervision. To
direct the moral and intellectual de
velopment of 300,000 children, and the
work and conduct of hundreds of
teachers is a most intricate and com
plex problem. The retiring superin
tendent, Mr. Edwin Cooley, frankly
confessed that he could not have
managed it had it not been for the
efficient help of his assistant, Dr.
Ella Young. Since she assumed the
control of the vast and varied inter
ests that environ her unique position,
the eyes of the world have been upon
her, watching for results. They have
been satisfied. Never in the annals
of public education in Chicago have
such personal and kindly relations ex
isted between the home and the
school, the School Board and the
teachers, the superintendent and
teachers and the children and the
superintendent. Dr. Young’s first of
ficial act, it is stated, was to remove
the red tape obstructions which sepa
rated the citizens from the school
superintendent, so that today, without
a question or a credential, the parent
and citizen of Chicago receives cour-
teous access to the office of the City
School Board.
This establishment of closer har
mony between the school and the
home was a movement of infinite im
portance, but Dr. Young has also
brought about better sanitary condi
tions, better salaries for teachers,
more consideration for the individual
girl and boy and a course of study to
suit their needs more perfectly. Also
she has established a novel trade
school for boys.
All these reforms have been accom
plished quietly and without aggres
siveness or the fussiness which is at
tributed to women. A prominent citi
zen of Chicago said: “Dr. Young could
fill the highest office in the gift of
America, that of president, with the
same wise, tactful capability that she
fills her present position of trust and
honor.” They are very much behind
the times who assert that women
have not the ability to direct and
control. Otten the little woman who
is a wife, mother and homekeeper,
and who rightly administers her
household affairs, economizing on a
small salary, training her children,
making home a place of comfort and
refreshment for her husband, keeping
up with her church and social duties
and saving scraps of time to keep in
touch with the progress of the world,
through newspapers, exhibits as much
skill, tact, wisdom and managing
ability as is required to fill a respon
sible public position.
Have you Householders been hear
ing the prophetic sound of marriage
bells? Their faint tinkle came to me
some weeks ago, through a confiden
tial letter from one of our sweetest
The Golden Age for April 21, 1910,
woman poets. Since then her inti
mation has been confirmed by a let
ter from one of the parties most in
terested. If signs do not fail, we shall
shortly hear of two weddings among
Householders who came to know each
other through their contributions to
our department. I sincerely hope
these marriages will prove as happy
as those that were made in the same
way in the days of the Sunny South,
when some of our favorite members,
among them Julia Coman Tait and
“Bachelor Girl” won noble and loving
husbands through their letters to the
Household. First, there was a re
spectful correspondence, then an ex
change of thoughts, experiences and
photographs, succeeded by a more in
timate acquaintanceship through let
ters, and then a meeting, an engage
ment and a wedding. Just yesterday
I learned of a marriage between two
talented Sunny South contributors,
whom I had not suspected of carrying
out such a romance, so quiet have
they been about it. My knowledge
came through a letter from the bride
groom, a man of fine character and in
tellectual gifts, while his bride is a
gifted and lovely young woman, who
has written many good things for the
Household. As “all the world loves a
lover,” and as the season is spring,
when the heart grows tender, I be
lieve you will like to read this letter,
and I hope Mr. Beddard will forgive
me for letting you enjoy it.
Dear Mrs. Bryan: About four years
ago, just before the dear old “Sunny”
was changed to the magazine, you
were so kind as to give space to a
short story written by myself—“ The
Major’s Story.” In this sketch I asked
for a few correspondents, and re
ceived letters from every State in the
union, also from Mexico. Being a
very busy man, I soon dropped all my
unknown friends —save “o n e”—and
that one was a lovely, golden-haired
little girl away out under the sunny
skies of Tennessee, the only child of a
widowed mother, Miss Jessie Twinkle
Estill, one of your contributors.
I soon became warmly attached to her
and often thought I should like so
much to see her.
Years passed, and I still wrote
every week to tell her of my expe
riences out here on the “farm,” and
after awhile a warmer vein crept in
to my weekly messages to her; but
her pure, maidenly replies gave me no
hope, as her heart was entrenched in
the citadel of filial devotion and
she would not ever think of leaving
her who gave her life and was her
all. At first I did not feel able to pro
vide as I wished to for her whom I
had learned to love with a pure, man
ly love. But a brighter day dawned
at length, and on the 17th day of Au
gust I had the great pleasure of see
ing her in her own home —to me the
purest and noblest girl I had ever
met. Well, the great Master touched
a responsive chord in each of our
hearts, and when again I crossed the
great range of mountains that lies
between here and Winchester, Tenn.,
I had her promise to become my wife
ere the roses bloomed aga’n.
How I toiled to build our little
home! And soon I could stand in the
distance and view it with as much
pride—and, I am sure, more satisfac
tion —than any of the great kings ever
viewed their royal castles.
We were married February 16,
1910, by Rev. Mr. Lorel, in the Baptist
church, in the presence of a few
friends, and after a brief wedding
tour, came to our own home out here
in the —to me —dearest spot on earth.
Did I not fear I would weary you,
I would tell you of our home —how
sweet it is, so new and fresh —but
that would make this letter too long.
And, in conclusion, please allow me,
my dear madame, to thank you for
giving me space in the dear old “Sun
ny,” and allow me to say I shall
always have a Avarm spot in my heart
for you.
Mrs. Beddard joins me in asking you
for a short letter as a souvenir, and
when you come to North Carolina, do
please come to see us.
With very highest regards and
much success, I have the honor to re
main,
Faithfully,
H. STEWART BEDDARD.
Snow Hill, N. C.
Now, isn’t this a sweet and manly
letter, one to make our sympathies
and best wishes go out warmly to this
newly wedded pair? I feel proud and
honored to have been in part the
means of bringing these two together.
Our watching Providence moves in a
mysterious way to effect the results
that His wisdom foresees are for the
best. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Beddard
will write to us about their new home,
Always we shall be interested to hear
from them. MATER.
With Cur Correspondents
WORTH TRYING.
Mattie Beverage.
“What’s the matter with that little
nigger—rheumatism? 1 thought so.
I’ll tell him what will cure him: a
bottle of vaseline, taking a piece the
size of a large pill three times daily.
It cured me, years ago, of a bad case,
which has never returned, and I’ve
told a ‘hundred’ others, who have
tried it with success.”
These remarks were from a new
comer on observing a little, drawn-up
Negro boy ride up to a store, pass his
flour sack in, stating what he wanted.
The boy had been drawn up, hardly
able to get about on “sticks” for sev
eral years.
One month later my husband came
to me, laughing, and told me the boy
had bought his second bottle of vase
line; all the swelling was gone and
he had thrown away his “sticks.”
This was nine months, ago, at pres
ent, and for seven months he has
walked as straight as any one. This
is such a simple remedy. I hope, if
any of your readers are similarly af
flicted, they will give it a trial.
Mattie Beverage was mistaken in
thinking no one remembered her
Christmas. While subscribing for a
little paper for my daughter and an
other friend, I sent in her name also
for School World Readings, by D. H.
Knowleton, publisher, Farmington, Me.
If she failed to receive it, a card from
her to Box 1, Nome, Texas, saying so,
will make me see that she gets it.
These publishers send out another lit
tle paper Our Little People’s Li
brary. Each of these papers are
printed in pamphlet form, with read
ing taken from the very best writers.
Ihirty-five cents yearly subscription
(ten copies), with ten pamphlets of
your own selection from list. I wish
every child who has but little reading
tuatter could read these papers.
MRS. M. A. AL.
