WOMEN’S WORLD.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2151, 28 March 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

WOMEN’S WORLD.

"NOT WORTH WHILE.” . We get a notion sometimes ■(says an American.' writer) that only those in high 'positions can do the work of the world and do it- well: that because our place in- life is obscure and.humble no effort is worth the- lyhile. I never can understand how such folks figure out haw the great works that, sway mankind are •born. All great rhovements, all great reforms, are born of an idea, a thought in some one mind. And, genev rally speaking, that mind belongs to whit we call an obe cure personality. Persons only walk out- of obscurityinto'the ’notice- of thc-ir .fellow kind by reasons of ideas. If we each withheld our deas the world would progress no- further. And the idea that will revolutionize a condition is just as possible in the ni’r.-d of the art-ban as "in that cf the -artist.: more -so, if anything, because the former mind is more robust even if not so -highly developed. The -c dm, tranquil mind that lives in obscurity is often as fertile- ground ar, is the nervous temperament that is in constant tension by intercourse with affairs and. tho world. -Because -our lives are cast in the- quiet and obscure places of the world, because the public knows not of us, because our lie ids are not seen above those of our fellow-men-, is no reason why wo cannot do the world igood, why we cannot add something to the beauty of the face of the earth, to the case ‘of living, to the greater, contentment of the world at large. Tho smallest thing, if keyed to the right tune, and that tune the betterment or hunnnity, the putting of a pleasanter aepec-t on the race of things, is always worth the doing. WHAT ONE GIRL DID. A little thing may have a curiously wide influence sometimes. It may not always -make for swaying man-, h-in-d 'in its deepest- and most vifys-k, relations, but it may add a little more beauty to the .fjice oi utilitarian things: and that is worth .while. As an illustration, here -a uqmir.vhat personal instance: Some vetrs ago -the typewritten correspondence of •an office presented the usual inartistic and untidy appearance in common with other offices. One day the stenographer took it into. ; her head to change the typesetter in her .machine and adopt- a new letter. It was .smaller, clearer.and more iv-s K-. artistic in. its n-trocarnnee. With the -, adoption of. the new Tetter she coupL

led the idea of leaving wider margins on the latter-pa,per. The general appearance of the correspondence of the office changed front the excessively ordinary to- the unusually artistic. An ordinary thing had 'been changed over night to n thing pleasant to loolC-at. Business houses at once noticed the change, asked how .it w is effected, and it was not long before the correspondence of this office was pointed on every side as a model of what the correspondence of a business house mav *be brought u.p to. One morning there canto an inquiry from the 'White House, ;and forthwith the correspondence of the President of the United 'States took on a new appearance. This was, in turn, noticed by three foreign Governnumts, who made inquiry, and the 'change crossed the ocean. It was apparently a very little thing of itself that the stenographer did: one day co change the type-letter in her machine. Rut what' she actually did do was to change the .appearance of half the business correspondence of the 'and, of the United States Government and. of foreign Governments as veil. She did not. sway mankind: die did not rock Governments, but die did add beauty to the face of tilings: she showed that a utilitarian thing could be made a. beautiful thing as •well. Ghe beautified the one thing that- ■she did and sent out to the world : her letters. And that was worth doing. Vet I fancy that to the mind of the average stenographer the exertion of .such an influence would be bevond belief.

WHAT A FRAIL EIGHTEEN YEAR-OLD GIRL DID One of the prettiest occupations for a stay-at-home is that of a young •girl who seemed to be fitted for no business whatever (says an American writer). She could not play or eing well enough to teach, she was too frail to go downtown to work, and it scorned as if Fate had cruelly hampered her by making it necessary for her to work without giving her any special capacity. She was just a merry, sweet-tempered child of eighteen, living with a. widowed mother

•who was delicate and had barely enough income to keep the two comfortable. The girl was determined to do .something. She lived oil an unfashionable street in a big, old-fash-ioned house, the lovely old garden of which backed up to a row of flamboyant city flats. The apartments, stcam-hcatcd and modern to a degree, were on a good street, but there was scarce an inch of green to each one, and the small yard there was always full of drying clothes, for somebody in the flats wad if cl every day. How enviously the little 11a tehiklren gazed into the old garden ! There.avasn’t a. marketable flower in

The little eighteen-year-old had wild ideas of selling flowers to earn money, but there were only hollyhocks and monster sunflowers, goldenglow and larkspurs, snapdragon, and yards and y ards of wild cucumber, which grew in a regular tangle over asandpde in one corner where she had

played happily when a child. An acquaintance who- was earning eight dollars a aveek downtown, and paying five dollars and sixty cents for board and carfare, said, with galling superiority, one day: “Really I don’t see what you’ll ever do to earn a living! You don’t seem to be in the least a business girl. You’re- such i child ! Your only 'specialty is playing with children, it’s a pity you haven’t six!” “I think I’ll borrow some,” said her hearer, and into her mind an Idea sprang, full-fledged. The next morning six little tots in six different apartments received a tiny letter in the morning mail which, on being o-pened. read : “Tlie Sanclpile Lady requests your company on 'Monday morning from nine until twelve o’clock. “Ginghams. 5442 Elderberry Court.” Nobody knew quite what-it meant, but young and old were- determined to find out. Six expectant youngsters appeared at the garden, shovels and pails in band., ‘Six blissful mothers’attended to the housework incident to a flat with one maid on waslulay, without the woes of childhood being added thereunto.. Six happy children frisked and frolicked, no, seven, for the Sanclpile was the biggest child of all. That was but the beginning, as she had honed it would be, of a clientele of small fry. . Morning and afternoon she entertained ten or a dozen children and earned from ten to fifteen dollars a week. On rainy days the big, old attic avis invested with the youngsters, different ones coming on different, days. The mothers rejoiced at- the happy babies and at the work they themselves could 'accomplish • not the worst of the situation being that- mother and children were l-MoieM together again when the prodigals returned. There never was the least a tempt to teach the children anything, so that the- kindergarten was not infringed upon, but much was learned- nevertheless, and the daintv little lady shed culture and refinement- about her. Imagination was cultivated and history was imbibod ahi consciously.. One small boy played Waterloo in tlie sanclpile with spools for soldiers, 'another recited “Horatius a.t the Bridge,” with blocks for the bridge- and a. toy hatchet t 0 cut It down, while Prince Charlie, hiding in the- -heather, was a scene daily enacted and scarcely less a favorite than- “Washington Crows-

ing the Delaware,” which river, in miniature, gurgled gen tly through tho s mdpi’.c to the great joy of the small boys. Girls and boys played together, all smiled upon by the tSandpile Lady.