WOMEN WHO OUGHT TO WORK.

WHEN, a on, we grow blind to it, and travel

HEN a good thing has, through its frequent repeti

beyond it in search of blessings. Thus, nowadays, when the field of women's work is no longer confined to the hearthrug and Berlin wool, but stretches far into the realms of art, of science, of literature, even of law, we still hear that hysterical moan of "nothing to do," which should have died away long since. We do not here include those women who have to make their own living, and are therefore often forced to leave the employment they like for another-uncongenial but remunerative ;-or, worse still, to seek the latter without finding it, because their education and tastes have run entirely in another direction. In their case the cry is a pitiful truth. But we refer to the large class of prosperous Penelopes who waste their youth and energy in futile labours, who start each morning on the beaten track only to go over the same old ground again next day; who, for want of guidance, fritter their faculties in busy nothings and drown their strength in five o'clock tea. The will is there, were it but set in the right channel; as it is, they live their days with a vague longing at their hearts, which turns into bad verses or bad tempers, unless they marry, and thus find wholesome and absorbing occupation. Otherwise they either become sour old maids, destroying many hopes and reputations, and creating nothing but scandal and indigo socks; or else they degenerate into hysterical creatures, passing their time in a wan, stagnant apathy that paralyzes all life—or in the creation of grievances and maladies, whose right name is egotism.

Two objections may, however, be made to the remedy proposed. Some may say that talking is all very well, but that people exist who are unfitted for any department of work, and who have no special bent. Again it may be urged that the indefinite wants of youth do not only spring from lack of work. As girls grow older, the beautiful instincts of womanhood bud and blossom in them: love of children, the need to sympathize, to love, and to be loved,-and the talent of being the centre of a home ;-all these feelings develop in a girl, nd, if she does not marry, remain unsatisfied. This is often e case, now that women marry later than of old, and mothers too often forget the fact, and attribute to discontent restlessness that they themselves never knew, because life

and home were cut out for them before they had reached their daughters' age.

Both objections surely arise from a too narrow understanding of the word "work." When we speak of natural bents and of talents; we invariably place them in certain grooves, such as art, science, or literature. We forget that there are talents for people as well as for things: sympathy, tact, charm, love of human beings are all such talents, and should be educated as systematically and thoroughly as a gift for music, painting, or writing. That everybody possesses them we do not say; but surely everybody can, to a certain extent, cultivate them; and surely, too, they are commoner than other faculties. We are all human, and all born with a certain amount of love for our race. At any rate, the education of such powers is easier than that of any other. It needs no building or endowment for its college, no fees from its students: the whole world is its school, its university. We can learn its lessons freely from a common crowd or an average individual at all times and all places, whilst each event in our daily lives bears directly upon it. Such occupation as this, which fills our lives with the care of human beings, must do much to satisfy the woman-need of somebody to care for; and, in itself, goes far to nullify the second objection to work

as a cure.

The question in most minds is where to find the work. "If you cannot be a whole yourself, join yourself on to a whole," says Goethe. Wilful "slumming," independently adopted as a mere self-indulgence, only does harm. To prevent the errors arising from such a course, there are plenty of "wholes" in existence that are only waiting for help. But for those really in need of occupation, a vague, general assertion is not enough, and valuable will and energy are often lost for want of somebody to give the requisite directions and particulars.

The special "whole " at present in our mind is the Metropolitan Association for Befriending Young Servants, which is in urgent need of workers. To befriend-as it attemptsthe myriads of helpless, ignorant servant-girls of London -little more than children-without friends, often without homes, or with homes that are worse than none, this seems essentially the field for girls who possess in plenty all, saving work, that these others lack. It seems some slight approach to the restoration of justice in the laws of distribution, that they who have superfluity of idleness should give some of their abundance to sweeten the ugly, grinding days of these poor little Cinderellas.

There are two distinct departments in the work of the

Association that of sitting in the Registry Office, and performing such duties as are connected with it, and that of visiting. The situation of the office varies with the district, as there are different branches of the Association, each with its separate organization, all over London. There are local differences also in the minor arrangements of some of the offices; but the actual work is the same in all-namely, to find suitable situations for those girls who are out of place, to see those mistresses who come to the office in search of servants, to answer letters of application and advertisements, and to inquire whether the girls have enough clothes when they go into their places. If they have not, the requisite garments are given them in advance from stores kept for that purpose, and they repay the cost by subsequent instalments from their wages. There are all sorts of arrangements for their amusement in connection with the different offices: lending libraries, clubs, and classes for cooking, singing, etc. The Chelsea Branch gives one large tea party a year to them and their different visitors. The Whitechapel branch, with which we have been concerned, pursues, to our mind, a better method. Most of the ladies connected with the work in this district give separate parties very often in their own homes. Indeed, though this is not compulsory, it forms an important item in the visitor's duties. This system has a distinct advantage over the other. It converts the party from a public institution into a "homey" influence, and makes the girls feel that they belong to you, and are a part of your everyday life.

As thousands of servant-girls now belong to the Association, it may well be wondered how their names and addresses are remembered. A strict record of these is kept. In the East-End, where our personal experience lies, the name of each girl, her home address, the addresses of all her situations since she belonged to the Association, and the dates of her entering into them; a brief account of her life previous to that time, of her parentage, of the ways she was helped by the Association, and of her subsequent career, are all entered in very awe-inspiring volumes of monstrous bulk that bring giddiness to the head, and to the mind a vague memory of the Domesday book, or one's childish ideal thereof. Honour and glory to the keepers of these intricate accounts, for on them the order and therefore the wellbeing of the work depends. An untidy, inaccurate book, full of tardy entries, would soon result in general confusion, and entirely losing the girls. And how intricate these accounts are it needs only a glimpse at one of these volumes to discover. Addresses over addresses—a whole directory full of addresses, which testifies

but too truly, firstly to the nomadic tendency of the girls' families, who move almost from day to day, and in the course of a month or two, make a cheerful trip from Stepney Green, via Whitechapel, to Shoreditch, and then after a few pleasant days at Bethnal Green, and a peep at Mile-End, back again, via Shadwell and Wapping, to Stepney as before; then to the nomadic tendencies of the girls themselves, who, whilst you are fondly thinking they have settled at the address. last inscribed, are packing up their things, having decided to find another mistress who will "let them have more days out," or "won't speak so sharp," as the case may be. Or, perhaps, whilst you dream of them scrubbing and scouring, in meek little caps and dutiful aprons, they may be running away from their places, and walking, as in a recent case, the whole way along the river, from Battersea to Wapping.

From the above sketch it will be seen that all those concerned in the office work must not only possess the powers of organization, administration, order, method, and tactwhich last virtue is specially needful in sending the right girls to the right places, and in advising them before they go there, but also great accuracy, and exact knowledge of all connected with them, their homes, their families, their mistresses, and their own characters. Now this cannot be obtained without either personal investigation, or the investigation of others. This brings us to the visitors' work. This was, in fact, the most prominent feature in our mind, when we spoke of a field ready for women who want to work. There is a settled staff in the offices; and though, of course, extra help is often much wanted and very welcome, there is not the same unlimited space for an unlimited number of assistants as in the case of visitors. The two duties are by no means irreconcileable in one person,-in fact those employed in the offices are often, at the same time, the visitors of a good many girls; but it is impossible for the comparative few who are thus occupied in each district, to manage the oversight of the hundreds of servants down on their books without the co-operation of a regular dependable army of helpers. We ourselves have only visited girls from the East-End, and our future remarks will apply to the Whitechapel branch, which looks after that district.

Against the name of each girl in the book is that of her visitor. The latter is supposed to help generally in the discovery of unknown addresses, and specially to look after and provide places for her own particular charges. When in place, they should be visited once a month; too many "calls" unsettle them, and really detract from the visitor's influence, as what has become common to the girls soon loses

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power with them. It is, however, well-almost needfulto write to them about halfway between one's visits, and to make them feel the importance of their answers and one's pleasure in them. One's own letters are an unfailing source of delight to them, specially if one is careful to ask after the details of their small lives. It is best, too, to intersperse more serious words, so long as these do not wear the aspect of preaching.

Nothing is such a mistake as to suppose that they like their "befrienders" to put themselves on the same level with them; they want to feel a somebody above, yet with them, a somebody who knows more than they do, and who lives, alas! amongst more beautiful sights and sounds,-a somebody who has to them a sacred mystery, in itself authoritative. That mystery is the chief good of those class distinctions that we have made so ugly, for we use them as a claim to immunity from even common duties, instead of the token of fresh responsibilities. The fulfilment of these alone makes us worthy of the unbounded trust placed by these little maids and their like in the great unknown of our higher birth and education. And these girls do place infinite faith in one's head and one's heart; so infinite, that for very shame's sake, one must try and strengthen one's weaknesses, that their ideal may not be lowered. It is not difficult to gain their love. Sometimes there is a good deal of pride and reserve to be conquered, but generally they are expansive enough, and soon tell you all about themselves, from their new aprons and the baby at home, to the story of the brother who was wild and went to sea, or of the time when they themselves were in the hospital, an inevitable epoch at some period of their lives. A very potent means of gaining both their confidence and the key to their characters and lives is a visit to their homes. A visitor cannot do really

good work unless she include this. In the first place, it often makes intercourse with the girl much easier, as the parents too frequently get an uneasy idea that the Association wants to separate her from her parents,-a notion which a little conciliatory behaviour soon dispels; in the second, it is a means of keeping up the chain between child and parents: the affections of uneducated people are greatly dependent on sight, and when a daughter does not see her father and mother more than two or three times a year, it is all-important to have a go-between who will, on either side, remember and tell those small nothings, those human every-day details in which lies the strength of love and of all ties, therefore of all morality. Besides, there is almost always a great fund of natural affection to work upon on