AN ALL-IMPORTANT SUBJECT.
“To everything there is a season.”—“A time to love.”—Eccles. iii.
1, 8.
If I were, this evening, to ask each of you, my dear girl friends, what
subject occupies your thoughts most in regard to your future life,
I wonder how many of you would even whisper the truth in my ear—if,
indeed, you cared to trust me so far. You have trusted me in many
things, and your confidences have been very precious to me; but they
have caused me sorrow as well as joy: sorrow, since no human being
can do more than lay bare the workings of one heart, the spiritual
experience of one soul, the sensations, painful or otherwise, of one
body, in order to help or advise others. We may all make guesses about
our neighbours, but we can be sure of nothing outside ourselves.
Our object to-night is of almost universal interest amongst those who
are girls to-day, but who will be the women, wives and mothers of
future years. I know that there has been a great revolution in girl
life and habits during the last few years. Girls have taken up new
occupations, and are the rivals of, and competitors with, the other
sex, in nearly every field of study and of work. Many girls live
independent of home ties, and some, I hope not a very large number,
scout the mention of that sweetest bond of all, which has subsisted
ever since God created the first human pair.
Do not for a moment imagine that I, a woman who has lived long enough
to note from its very beginning the wonderful educational improvement
made by my sex, think lightly of it, or undervalue it. Far from this,
I am proud of what girls are doing to-day, and every feminine triumph
chronicled gives me a throb of pleasure and a sense of sympathy with
the patient, self-denying worker, who has not only deserved success,
but won it. I do not, however, sympathise with the minority amongst
these intellectually gifted girls and women, who ignore home ties,
because they work outside the home circle, and speak of the sacred
names of wife and mother as if the duties pertaining to those who
hear them were not to be contemplated from the heights to which they
have attained. What I feel about feminine progress is this: Every bit
of knowledge gained, every step made in manual dexterity, artistic
perfection, or even professional skill, should trend towards the
development of a nobler being, better equipped for every womanly duty
than were the women of preceding generations. Ay, and more ready and
willing to do it with all the added charm that refinement and culture
can give to what nature bestowed in the first instance.
Since girls and women outnumber men, there will doubtless be a pretty
strong contingent, amongst the most scholarly girls, who will not marry.
Experience has already proved this to some extent. But, after all,
human nature is stronger than reason, and will assert itself in
unexpected ways, to the confusion of every learned argument.
Feminine independence is apt to lose its value, and the right to stand,
in every sense, on the same level and platform with the man is soon
waived, when the true love of a true heart is offered together with the
strong arm to learn on and to give protection in time of need.
Tell me, dear ones, what piece of news, in which you are not personally
concerned, stirs you most, and excites the greatest interest? Is it not
the tidings of a friend’s engagement?
What confidences are so sacred as those that tell of happy, hopeful
love? Think of your girl friend who, with sweet shyness, hid her
blushing face on your shoulder, and repeated in a whisper the words
lately spoken by that one who had of late become more to her than all
the world besides. Did not your own heart thrill with sympathetic
gladness as you listened? Were you not proud of her confidence, and did
you not feel more honoured by it than by any trust she had reposed in
you before?
She had told you of her joys and sorrows, her hopes and fears on other
subjects, many a time, and you had listened and sympathised. But all
the rest sank into insignificance when compared with the importance
of the future now opening before her. Her confidence was mingled with
both smiles and tears—happy tears you were sure—and you too were ready
to laugh and cry by turns, as you clasped her in your arms, and kissed
her, telling her between whiles how truly you rejoiced in her joy.
I can picture you going homeward with the news, so delighted to tell it
that your walk breaks into a run in your eagerness, and yet as you go,
you perhaps think to yourself, “I wonder if such happiness will come to
me also. Shall I some day reciprocate such confidence as my friend has
placed in me?”
As you asked yourself the question, did some known face come before
your mind’s eye and bring to your cheek a self-conscious flush? Not a
flush of shame. Far be it from me to suggest such a thing. You have no
need to shrink from owning that you do look forward hopefully to the
possibility of being one day the loved and trusted partner of some good
man, and, if God so wills it, the mother of his children.
The prospect of being a wife and a mother involves alike the most
sacred, vast, and yet delightful responsibilities. How can you be
fit to undertake such, if you have given them no serious thought
beforehand, or striven to qualify yourself for them?
Having myself known such an ideally happy married life that the
very memory of it makes me unspeakably rich now, in the days of my
widowhood, how I long to see my experiences repeated in the lives of
those who are to be the wives and mothers of the future!
Death robbed me of my partner several years ago, but even death could
not take away the riches that memory stored for me during more than
thrice that time, nearly thirty blessed years. Having had experience of
the things which tend to the building up of such memories, I feel free
to speak of them to you, my dear girl friends, to whom the path is yet
an untrodden way.
Oh, I do want it to be a happy path to all of you who may enter upon
it! Not necessarily all smooth. Such paths are seldom found on earth,
and when they are, those who tread them are apt to grow weary even of
happy monotony, and to step aside into others, where they find or make
difficulties for themselves. Or they remain on the smooth road, but
cover it with imaginary stumbling-blocks, which are harder to surmount
than real ones.
What I desire for each of you is a road on which you and the dear
one who is the accepted alike of your heart, your reason, and your
conscience may walk together as “two who are agreed.”
The privilege of choice pertains to the other sex; but only after a
limited fashion, seeing that with yourselves rests the power to accept
or refuse any number of offers that may be made to you.
If you accept, your answer should have a threefold basis. Honest
affection to begin with, for, believe me, without this married life
cannot be truly happy. It is a life which calls for much self-devotion,
self-denial, patience, and the bending of one’s own will to that of
another.
True affection sweetens all these things and makes them easy, and that
must be a hard nature indeed which does not respond on receiving such
proofs of it.
But reason and conscience should each have a voice in saying “Yes” or
“No” to an offer of marriage. They will speak, even when at times the
girl is unwilling to listen to either of them.
Conscience will ask, “Is the union with this man one on which a
blessing can be asked and expected? I have been brought up by
God-fearing parents, whose great desire has been that I should be His
child and walk as a disciple of Jesus. On this, the most important
subject of all, shall we two be agreed?”
I am not going to suggest all the questions which will be likely to
come into the mind of a Christian girl under such circumstances; but
I cannot imagine one worthy of the name who would give an answer,
affecting the happiness of at least two lives, without earnestly
seeking guidance from God by prayer and supplication. If, after this,
conscience is satisfied, only reason’s voice has to be heard.
“What, are not affection and conscience enough without help from
reason?” you ask.
Well, perhaps I should say common sense should have a third voice
in the matter. You and I have eyes to see and ears to hear. However
young you may be, you have seen and known something of what are called
imprudent marriages.
There may have been true affection and unity in aims, principles, and
work. The union, as such, may be one against which no one can say a
word, except that it will not be a prudent marriage, and can only bring
regrettable consequences.
How a young man is to be honoured if he, for the very love he bears a
girl, refrains from giving her the pain of saying “No” when her heart
as well as esteem for his character would induce her to say “Yes” at
all risks!
Often the girl has to show herself the stronger under such
circumstances, and then her task is doubly hard, for she has to battle
against her own heart’s pleadings as well as those of her lover.
I do not believe that any girl who shows her courage and self-devotion
in such a manner will have cause to regret in the long run. If the man
is worthy of her affection, he will love her the better for the motives
which have induced her to refuse him. He will have realised the cost to
herself, and will determine that it shall not be in vain. Knowing that
he cannot give her such a home as would deserve the name, and that
marriage on such a slender or uncertain income would mean privation,
constant struggling to make ends meet, probably debt as an additional
burden, he will resolve to work the harder and possess his soul in
patience until brighter days dawn for both of them.
He will say, “What is worth having is worth both working and waiting
for,” and he will redouble his efforts to shorten the time of
probation. Each will be cheered by the thought, “It was for her sake I
kept silent,” or “It was for his sake I said ‘No,’ not my own.”
I have often been consulted by girls who, having seen my own happy
married life, have decided that I must be an authority on things
pertaining thereto. But, alas, it has also often happened that the
applicant for advice only wished me to confirm her own foolish decision.
One case recurs to my mind after the lapse of many years. The
_fiancée_, orphaned as an infant, had been brought up, educated, and
cared for by relatives. She was a good pianist, and had early found a
groove in which to earn a livelihood, always having in addition the
certainty of a home with those who had brought her up, should she need
it.
Past her first girlhood, at twenty-nine she engaged herself to a young
man eight years her junior, inferior to herself in social position,
education, speech, and manner, and with a weekly income of twenty-five
shillings, no other money, and relatives who rather needed help than
were likely to give it.
She came to ask if I would smooth matters with the relatives, who were
grieved and indignant at her folly in thinking of such a union. A
little questioning elicited the facts that her savings were to furnish
the cottage, pay the wedding expenses, including the bridegroom’s
new suit, and that rent alone would absorb six out of the weekly
twenty-five shillings. She could not retain her position after
marriage, but she hoped to earn something by giving music lessons.
Need I tell you what eloquence I wasted on this wilful young woman,
who was old enough to know better, but too old and obstinate to be
convinced against her will. I brought figures to bear, put the cost of
the barest necessaries opposite to that nineteen shillings of weekly
income after payment of rent. But it was all useless. She did not want
to be convicted of rashness and folly, but to induce others to agree to
them.
You have doubtless foreseen the result whilst listening to the prelude.
The marriage took place. The wife’s money was all absorbed at the
start, and debts began to be incurred almost immediately. The man was
not of the sort likely to win a better position, and the woman, gently
nurtured, found in him a hard, selfish domestic tyrant, who made her
life of toil doubly bitter by his coarseness and the harshness of his
conduct towards the children. Friends had said they would not help;
but pity and the old affection for the woman whose childhood they had
watched over conquered indignation, and much was done for her, often by
stealth, or she and her little ones would have been no better for it.
I will not tell the rest of a sad story; but what I have said gives a
picture of results where neither conscience nor reason had a voice in
deciding the future of two lives.
Every rank of life furnishes samples of ill-advised marriages. A girl
may be attracted by a handsome person, and not pause to find out
whether the moral and religious character of the man corresponds with
it. She may note his pleasant social qualities and admire them; but it
would be well for her to find out whether these are equally notable
under the home roof. It is good to know what sort of a son and brother
a man is.
If a mother’s face lights with pleasure at the mention of her son, and
the thought of what he is to her brings moisture to her eyes, if the
girls of the family make a friend of him and regard him as a great
factor in the sum that makes up the happiness of home, there will be
good reason for believing that, in the dearest of all relationships, he
will not be found wanting.
There is an old saying that “A man is known by the company he keeps.”
Is it not, then, well for you, who look forward to spending a lifetime
in his society, to know something of the associates he chooses for
himself now?
I think I hear some of you asking, “Is it not the business of parents
and guardians to satisfy themselves about the position, means,
character, associates, and so on, of the man who seeks a daughter in
marriage?”
Assuredly it is. But all of you are not blessed with parents, or kind,
wise guardians in place of them. Some have not even friends who will
interest themselves on behalf of girl acquaintances. Some, again,
are ready to blame the young and foolish girls who think so lightly
of what is of supreme importance. They laugh, or quote old sayings
about “Eating rue pie,” “Marry in haste and repent at leisure,” and
so on. One has even noted a look of almost pleasurable anticipation
on the face of some acquaintance whose advice has been asked, but not
followed, as the remark has been made, “She will find out her mistake
soon enough when she gets what she never bargained for.”
Perhaps there may be relatives who are not wholly sorry to be rid of
responsibility in regard to girls who have not been amenable to advice
or rules. Such wash their hands of the whole affair by the warning,
“As you make your bed, so you must lie. Do not look to us for help in
future.”
So, when a girl reaps the fruits of a hasty or ill-advised marriage,
the most she gets from erewhile friends or kinsfolk, is, “You were
warned in time. I told you what would happen.”
Parents, guardians, true friends may do their utmost, but, after all,
they cannot do everything. A great part of the responsibility must rest
on the girl herself, since they may advise and she refuse to listen.
They may picture the prospect before her, she may shut her eyes to it.
They may bring facts and figures, she will not discuss them, or will
insist that her calculations are right and theirs are wrong. They may
point out that the burden of care and toil which would follow such a
marriage will prove too heavy for her. She makes light of it, because
hitherto she has never felt the reality.
Dear ones, I am dealing mainly with warnings, and that side of the
question with which reason has mainly to do, in this our first talk
on an all-important subject. We shall look at the love and the
beautiful—poetic I had almost said—the heavenly side of it by-and-by.
Now, I seem to be looking all the time at the mistakes and follies
which, in so many cases, have spoiled lives, and made marriage like
anything rather than what God meant it to be.
Is there one amongst you to-night who is getting tired of the daily
round in a poor home where all the family are, however, rich in
affection? You may have grown weary of the makeshifts and contrivances
needful to keep up appearances. You hate to have to calculate how far
every shilling will go before you spend it. You long to escape from the
narrow round of daily life, almost at any cost. Perhaps you have only
to say “Yes,” in order to exchange it for comparative ease and luxury,
but you hesitate, and why?
Because your heart tells you that affection will have no share in the
compact. Conscience whispers that you only know that your suitor’s
worldly circumstances are favourable, but as to his character you are
almost in ignorance, and have an uncomfortable feeling that you had
better not inquire too closely.
Will you give your life into the keeping of one about whom you know
almost nothing, and try to silence heart, conscience and reason by
saying to yourself, “A fine home, costly garments, money and social
position will make up for all else that is lacking.”
God forbid. All that the world has to offer cannot make amends for the
absence of true love and the respect and confidence that should give it
stability, neither can it stifle the voice of conscience, which says,
“I told you the truth, and you would not listen.”
Sometimes girls are impatient of parental control, and to escape from
what is only reasonable and right, determine to rule in a home of their
own. They use the hackneyed saying that marriage brings affection with
it, but too often realise that the parental yoke was light indeed when
compared to what they have voluntarily assumed.
I think I see you turning reproachful eyes upon me, and hear you
asking, “How is it that you, who have known such wedded happiness,
speak as though you looked on marriage as a thing to be avoided?”
Patience, dear ones. I have been drawing word-pictures from life.
You have listened patiently; now I ask you to bear my words in mind.
Between this and our next Twilight gathering ask yourselves if any of
my warnings have come specially home to you, or if you are in danger
of wrecking your own young lives and bringing sorrow on those who love
you, in any of the ways against which I have lifted up my voice.
(_To be continued._)
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
STUDY AND STUDIO.
AN APPRECIATIVE READER.—There are many books of instruction on
painting, by the help of which you might make considerable progress.
You might try _Brushwork_, first book, by Miss Yates, published by
Philip & Son, 32, Fleet Street, or _Brushwork, or Painting without
Pencil Outline_, by Miss D. Pearce, published by Charles and Dible, 10,
Paternoster Square.
SNOWDROP.—Many thanks for your interesting letter. We have inserted
your request. No, we cannot tell you of anything that will make you
grow, except what you seem to enjoy, plenty of fresh air and good food.
We are glad your life is so happy, and hope you try to put a little
brightness into the lives of others who are not so fortunate. Perhaps
your friend is unhappy on account of the troubles of other people. You
should have a chat with her on the subject.
MISS MCC. (Germany).—We fear your tune, through the mistake of a clerk,
has been returned to you without criticism. If so, we are extremely
sorry, and will give you our best advice in case you send it again.
A DEVONIAN.—It is impossible to compose correctly without lessons in
harmony. The “Kyrie” is rather weak, but the hymn tune is far better,
so good that we think it is a great pity for you not to give your
attention to the study of the theory of music.
HÊRÊ.—If the hymn tune enclosed is only your second attempt, we can
frankly encourage you to persevere. You resolve your chords wrongly,
more especially in the latter part of the tune; but study would amend
that fault. We hope you will take lessons in harmony, as we think you
have talent.
“SIS.”—There are at least 144 Schools of Art in connection with the
Science and Art Department of the Committee of Council on Education, in
many of which instruction is given in architecture. You should apply to
the Secretary, Science and Art Department, London, S.W. Architecture is
an art by itself, and it would be useless for us to attempt to outline
the course of instruction needful for an architect.
IVY LEAVES.—1. The specimen of prose composition you enclose is written
in a curious way, as though it were intended for poetry. Prose usually
flows consecutively on, line after line. You have evidently a love for
nature and an eye for the beautiful, but more than this is needed for
success in literature. You should read all you can.—2. Mary Queen of
Scots was born at Linlithgow in 1542, a few days before the death of
her father.
GLADWYS.—You give no details of the sort of recitation you require,
short or long, pathetic or humorous. “Aunt Tabitha,” by Oliver Wendell
Holmes; “The Bishop and the Caterpillar” (_Boy’s Own Paper_); “The
Walrus and the Carpenter,” by Lewis Carroll, are effective. “Over the
Hill to the Poor House,” and “Over the Hill from the Poor House” are
to be found, with other good recitations, in Alfred Miles’s _American
Reciter_, price 6d. Of course, the volumes of Tennyson, Browning, Mrs.
Browning, Longfellow, Whittier, Adelaide Anne Proctor, will provide you
with an endless chain of lyrics.
OUR OPEN LETTER BOX.
TATIANA wishes to find a hymn beginning—
“O that I had wings like a dove.”
Another verse is—
“My weary wings, Lord Jesu, mark,
And when Thou thinkest best,
Stretch out Thy arm from out the ark
And take me to my rest.”
She has been told that it is by F. Palgrave, but cannot trace it in his
books.
“E. T.” wishes to know who wrote a poem entitled “The Trumpeter’s
Betrothed,” and where she can obtain it.
“DOUBTFUL” has answers from “ALWAYS IN A HURRY,” “LEONORE,” MABEL
ENTWISTLE, and A. MARTIN, who refer her for the poem “Somebody’s
Mother” to Part I. of the _Thousand Best Poems in the World_, published
by Hutchinson, and to the _A 1 Reciter_, edited by A. H. Miles. Three
kind correspondents, A. M. ISAACS, EDITH ROLLASON, and “EDYTHE” copy
out the poem and send it to us for her.
“ALWAYS IN A HURRY” asks for a poem in which occurs the line—
“Many a song in heaven was begun on earth with a groan.”
“BRIGHT STAR” wishes to know who composed the music to the song “Down
our Street,” and where she will be likely to get it.
Can any reader help “SAILOR” to a copy (words and music) of a song
called “The Sailor’s Grave”? It is not Sir A. Sullivan’s, but an old
song popular some thirty years ago. The first line is—
“Our barque was far, far from the land.”
SEATON DEVON asks for the author or publisher of a song for children,
beginning—
“Please, have you seen my dolly,
The one that I most admire?”
MABEL ENTWISTLE wishes to collect pictorial postcards from various
parts of the world, and would gladly pay for the cards and postage if
any subscriber, who happens to be going abroad, would send her some.
The address is 1, William Street, Darwen, Lancashire.
INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE.
We have an interesting letter from an Australian girl, who asks that
a French young lady will kindly write direct to her. She has never
been out of Australia, and says, “Letters from a French lady would be
helpful to me in two ways; they would allow me to know something of
home-life in France, and also help me to improve my knowledge of the
language of that far-away land.” The address is, Miss F. Evelyn Smith,
Medindie, Adelaide, South Australia.
We have a letter for “MISS INQUISITIVE” from RUBY PARSONS, “Beemery,”
Seymour Road, Elsternwick, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. If “MISS
INQUISITIVE” will send us her address, we will for once infringe our
rule and forward the letter to her.
POPPY wishes to correspond with a young French lady of good family,
aged from eighteen to twenty-six, each to write once a month, and to
correct and send back the other’s letters. Will some French lady of
good family volunteer her name and address?
MISS E. G. COLE, 113, Vyse Street, Birmingham, seventeen years of age,
would like to correspond with a young lady in French.
A CONSTANT READER, LILIAN C. BROWN wishes to correspond with a French
young lady residing in France, age about twenty. The address is, 5,
Wilton Mansions, Kelvinside, Glasgow.
MRS. JOSEPH SMITH, Box 4, Aberfoyle, Ontario, Canada, wishes for a
correspondent on the coast of England, Ireland, or Scotland, with whom
she could exchange pressed flowers and plants of Canada (natives)
for sea-shells, or other sea curiosities. She would also like a
correspondent in India, Ceylon, or Zanzibar.
MISS EVA M. ROPER, Dunmow, Essex, wishes for a French correspondent,
about twenty-two, or older, and suggests that each should write in her
own language.
MISS LIZZIE VAN REES, Reehveve, Hilversum, Holland, wishes to write
Dutch or German letters to a lady of her own age (17), who will reply
in English or French.
MISS CARRIE GERMAINE should write direct to MISS DOROTHEA KNIGHT, whose
address was given.
MISS E. W. JEFFERSON, Paris, Ontario, Canada, an Englishwoman of
twenty-six, would like to correspond with MADEMOISELLE GOUTARD, or any
of our correspondents—French, German, or Indian. She hopes to improve
her knowledge of French and German, and also to give some help in
return.
MISS L. ANNING, Charlotte Rains, _via_ Hughenden, N. Queensland,
Australia, would like to correspond with “MISS INQUISITIVE,” or any
“real English girl.” Miss Anning lives on a cattle station, and is
sixteen years old.
GIRLS’ EMPLOYMENTS.
K. A. (_Music Teacher_).—We cannot recommend any girl to come over
to this country and seek employment as a teacher of music only. The
competition in the musical world is so severe that only the best
teachers succeed in any degree at all, and those who are not quite
remarkably good are obliged merely to teach music as one among many
subjects.
JULIUS CÆSAR (_Copying, etc._)—There is very little copying to be had
since typewriting was introduced, and, in any case, the law stationers,
to whom this class of work is usually entrusted, would not care to send
it down to the West of England to be done. Plain needlework orders
you might very likely obtain from people in your own locality. In our
opinion, people who are obliged to live at home and to exercise great
economy, cannot do better than work for themselves, that is to say,
make their own clothes, do their own cooking and housework, etc. In
this way they can at all events save themselves occasions for spending
money. But earning for those who live in the heart of the country is
much more difficult than for town-dwellers, while on the other hand
living is cheaper.
A WELL-WISHER OF THE “G. O. P.” (_Emigration to Canada_).—See reply to
“Unsettled” (No. 1014). For your age you are certainly not receiving
very high wages, and the fact suggests that you have no great talent
for cooking. Perhaps you might do better in Canada, where the duties
would be more varied. But we cannot take the responsibility of advising
you to take such a step, as you are by no means badly off where and as
you are. You might easily go further and fare worse.
LORRAINE (_Travelling Companionship_).—There is really no demand for
travelling companions. If you are fond of travelling, you had possibly
better emigrate under the auspices of the British Women’s Emigration
Association, Imperial Institute, Kensington, W.; but in this event
you must be prepared to do plenty of domestic work. In the meantime,
however, you should take a thorough course of training in cookery, etc.
You could obtain this by spending some time in the Emigrants’ Training
Home, Leaton, Wrockwardine, Wellington, Salop. Perhaps, however, you
have a talent for some trade that you could pursue in the Old Country,
and in this case it would be better to remain. But you give us no
sufficient idea of your aptitudes for us to offer much practical
guidance.
MISCELLANEOUS.
GEORGIANA.—The system which had its origin in Gautama Buddha was
founded about 2500 years ago in India, upwards of 500 years before
Christ, and Ceylon was the country of its earliest proselytism. Its
dogmas represent a form of Atheism, as no God is acknowledged. Buddha
represents a man, not a god, although divine adoration is paid to him
and his supposed relics.
MISS PRYDE.—We have pleasure in again drawing attention to your Home
for Governesses, and others in Paris, in the Rue de la Pompe, Avenue du
Bois de Boulogne, 152.
BELL.—We recommend you to write to Miss Pryde, of whom we have just
given a notice. It is probable that she may receive you, and in any
case give you _renseignements_.
DOROTHY B.—At any china manufacturer’s where lessons are given, and
artists are trained in china-painting, you could obtain any china sets
for the purpose. Mortlock’s, for instance; you might write to the
manager. They have a shop in Oxford Street, W.
KATHLEEN.—It is exceedingly ill-bred to have private jokes before a
third party. It is a rule that there should be no whispering, nor any
side-glances and “nudgings” unexplained to others present. Do not look
cross, but inquire what the joke is. It is for you to judge whether it
be expedient or agreeable to make a confidant or intimate friend of
girls so ill-bred and untrustworthy.
ST. ELMO.—We are not surprised that your father considers your writing
illegible, as well as inartistic. Why do you drop some letters below
the line of the others, the letter “o” especially? There is no such
letter as that you substitute for a “y” and a “g,” and your “S” is a
capital “E,” etc. You ought to write copies daily, and take pains to
form your writing like the copper-plate examples. The song “Casta Diva”
is in Bellini’s opera of “Norma.”
CAPE COLONY.—The person who is to be _presented_ is not the person of
the highest rank, nor most advanced age, but the person of the least
rank, or the most juvenile. A man (out of courtesy and chivalric
feeling) is presented to a woman, and so the friend or lady of the
house brings him up to the lady, and says, “Allow me to present (or
introduce) Mr. So-and-so,” just as at Court the subject is presented to
the sovereign, not the superior to the inferior, in any case. How could
you say, “Allow me to present Lord So-and-so,” to a young Lieutenant,
for example, or lead up an elderly lady to a young girl, and say, “Let
me introduce Lady Mary ——”? We are glad you continue to value our paper.
PAULINE.—Perhaps one of your sisters might find hair-dressing suited
her. Of course, in one department you would have a good deal of
standing; but in the dressing of dummy heads for the windows, and the
making-up of false hair you could sit. The work is remunerative when
thoroughly acquired. Salaries range from 15s. to 30s. a week. Wig and
front-making may be done for shops at home.
AMIE.—We do not at a moment’s notice speak with authority on the
question you ask; but it is our impression that a woman need only
substitute the words “of full age” for the exact statement of her age.
In some cases a copy of your baptismal register might be required, and
in any case you had better consult the clergyman who is to perform the
marriage service.
HELIOTROPE.—We do not understand why you cannot have the friendship of
two schoolfellows as well as of one, or half a dozen. If you like them,
and they are attached to you, there is no occasion for you to “throw
off” the first you liked. As to “going with” either of them, it is not
a case of an engagement nor betrothal. Be kind to each in turns, and
say nothing of your preference to the friend you like the least, for
your newer favourite. Exercise a little tact, and avoid wounding her.
MARCIA.—You should procure a book on architecture. Of the Gothic
there are five varieties—the Norman, dating from William I.’s time,
1066-1189; the Transition, from _temp._ Richard I., 1189; the Early
English, from _temp._ Henry III., 1216; the Decorated, _temp._ Edward
II., 1307; the Perpendicular, _temp._ Richard II., 1377, until the
_temp._ Henry VIII., 1546. Since then, these several styles have
been reproduced; besides which there have been two combinations—the
Anglo-Norman and Semi-Norman. Of the Anglo-Saxon period in architecture
you have not inquired, nor have we space to add much more. Perhaps the
most curious specimens of this style are the tower of Sumpting Church,
in Sussex, and that of Barnack, Northants. The Anglo-Norman, which
succeeded it, deserves your attention, of which we may cite an example
at Castle Rising, Norfolk, the crypt at Westminster Abbey, and many in
Warwickshire. There is also the Semi-Norman style, which is beautifully
represented in the ruins of Croyland Abbey, Lincolnshire.
LOVER OF ANIMALS.—The grey parrot or jaco is indigenous to the
west coast of Africa, and, as a rule, is a specially good talker.
The cockatoo inhabits the Indies, isles of Oceania, and is docile
and caressing, but, according to Louis Figuier, it is not a good
talker. The very best that we ever saw in this respect, and the most
affectionate, was a very large and handsome cockatoo. When purchased at
Jamrack’s, it was exceedingly wild and fierce, but it became greatly
attached to the lady who bought it, and tame enough to walk at liberty
on the table, and quite harmless in company. Of course there are
beautiful parrots, which are natives of Australia, that can be trained
to talk, and if not teased when young, they do not scream.
L. W.—Chopin was not a Frenchman, though he resided for many years
in France, and died in Paris. Many of his mazurkas, nocturnes, and
polonaises were founded on Polish National airs, though adapted to the
French style. He was a Pole, and born near Warsaw in 1809. But France
may claim Gounod, who was a native of Paris, born in 1818, and the
French may be proud to own him. His style is considered to resemble
that of Meyerbeer.
ENQUIRER.—The knife is never used excepting to carve a joint, or fowl,
or game of any kind, and to eat meat, or bread, or cheese. Fish is
helped with a silver “slice” and fork, and by others a small silver
knife and fork are used, never a steel one. For pastry, puddings of all
descriptions, and vegetables, only a fork, or, if necessary, a spoon
may be used in the higher ranks of society.
* * * * *
[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text:
Page 602: no to not—“not believe”.
Page 606: responsibilites to responsibilities—“delightful
responsibilities”.]