The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-11-06

the same period, and so the weeks
went"
"Oh!' cried the first speaker, die
mayed, II call that work! Reading his
tory is just what have been doing"
1t all depended on the limits of power
and on the point of view. One mans
meat is another mans poison; one wo-
mans work another's play. The old
clergyman was right for his day and
generation. Doubtlessly many of the
women who heard him were suffering
bodily from the cramping of their soule.
as Chinese women cramp their feet. to
fit into grooves too narrow or untitled
for their capacities. They had nothing
of value to do, and were unhappy and
ill. but did not know why. No one had
told them their lives were not full or
broad enough. or that being occupied all
day did not mean work.
my dear madam" said an honest
acute physician to one wealthy woman
who brought him her nerve-racked body
to heal, what you need is to take in
washing. You can't do that, of course.
but work you must or you will die
WHAT pity it is you bave not yourself
and family to support. with your tre-
mendous erergyw
Work! The poor soul thought she
was overworked already; and overoccu-
r,saI oh moo nofropccc Of this that
and the other charity or gayety. which
offices she performed laboriouslY, her
intensely active nature craving rougher
toll.
There is nothing more difficult to de-
eide than the line between mere occu-
patton and work. To modest mind it
is little short Of overweeDing conceit TO
determine that what is undoubtedly
honest work for neighbor is play for
ones self. yet that decision must some
times be made; for in the weighing of
their powers, both men and women are
more apt to be self-deceived by lsz ness
than by modeety.
"Oh, girls" cried a busy worker, as
she went out from her home to her daily
task, "don't we wish that we all had to
stay at home to-day and just sit and
sew and talk?"
This was from a woman absorbed in
her very successful Iabors. and an en-
thusiast in the profession che had
chosen; yet long she did, and long she
and many like her ever will for the flesh
pots of Egypt Tor the old happy days
when all womankind sat together. sew.
ing long and sometimes. it must be
owned. a purposeless seam. with no
thought as to which of them was hon
orally fitted for that work and which of
them were so fitted for other labors that
to sew seams was a wicked waste of
time, because it was not the work on
Gods earth that was best fitted for their
doing.
As rule, fear of the proverbial wolf
at the door drives men to the work for
which they are best fitted and whore
their highest capacities will be put on
buo puUliC mdEhoi, Uub tndt sdmo uoC0s-
sity does not usually stand behind
woman. The gadfy of desire not to
be cumberer in the world may sting
her to action, but too often it only
rouses her to Identifying what should be
her play as her work. 1t is temptingly
easy for woman to loiter over some
trivial labore unworthy of that honora
BILE name, and deceive herself into think.
ing that the day is we'll spent.
No day is we'll spent that does not in
clude honest work, be it with the paint
brush, the broom, the needle, the card
case, or the committee-room. For all
branches of life there is the sap that
suits. but the sap for the oak must not
run into the rose-tree, nor that intended
for the roset tree into the oak. Harper's
Bazaar.