Page 9 - 1917 February - To Dragma

90 TO DRAG MA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI
of the questions put to the college girl are both ridiculous and
pathetic, but in most cases they require some pretty hard thinking.
A teacher about to be pensioned in our school wanted to go into
settlement work in a city, and as I happened to know the woman
at the head of our college settlement in Chicago, she was helped.
Last spring a high school girl wanted to take up nursing. We
labored over her application and she was finally accepted. One of
the boys wanted a short course in "bee farming" and a school of that
nature was located for him.
It is not all giving, for a college girl is enriched by each experience,
and she begins to feel after a while that she is of some help in the
community even though she may be trying to fill a position as I
am of running a large household with one hand and disseminating
knowledge with the other. Above all she must keep playing the
game of "just being glad."
MY WISH
B Y E L I Z A B E T H H A N L Y , r , '15 Is it a home where the mistress is, well, Waste? Every town has
(Published in The Outlook for December 27, and reprinted in
To DRAGMA.)
I f I could be who I would be,
I f suddenly to me G o d said,
"Of all my dear and noble dead
Choose one to be again on earth
For strife or service, toil or mirth,
Resume, one hour, mortality,—"
I know right well who I would be.
I f I could go where I would go,
In all the lovely lands that are
From Southern Cross to Polar Star,
I f I could linger for a space
I n one long-loved, earth hallowed place,
Why, then God's will should set me down
At nightfall, in a Scottish town.
In "Leery's" shape I would go forth
Through that dim city of the North,
And run again with eager feet
Along the Kdinboro' street,
T o light the gas lamps one by one,
And nod to little Stevenson!
And as he lay in bed he'd see
My street-stars shining in a row.
I f I could be who I would be,
I f I could go where I would go.
TO DRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI 91
PREPAREDNESS
B Y ISABELLE HENDERSON STEWART, 2, '05
Once upon a time there was a bride, who on her first laundry
day, went through all the required formula of soap suds, rinsings,
bluings, and starchings. Only, the order was somewhat reversed,
for the wind blew gaily a line full of clothes, sad looking, too—
for the starched things had been thoroughly, very thoroughly rinsed,
and blued to the blueness of despair. Nor is this a case where the
excuse, "She was only in love," can be laid at her door. It was
due to lack of training, education, and ignorance of logical think-
ing. H e r schooling ended at the eighth grade before the days
of domestic training. It is wisdom now that has led our educators
to place this essential in the grades. T h i s is a science that has done
the most for home-making, and blest is she who has had its privileges,
and twice blest who has studied it at first hand.
Is it a home where the mistress is a Human Dutch Cleanser?
them both. Work never done, for the former sees too much, and
the latter, too little. Both need to be prepared!
On the hill in our town live the Dutch Cleansers. One day I
went to call. I refuse to speak of the parlors, for I have forgotten
how many times a week these are aired. T h e dusting and sweeping
could well be eliminated, as the rooms are hermetically sealed! Not
a chance for a mite of a gay dust speck to ever ride gaily in on a
sunbeam. I found the mistresses around back, in the kitchens, gen-
erally very weary, and apologizing for spotless aprons, and kitchen
stoves "that haven't seen the brush since yesterday." Is this pre-
paredness ?
I arrived home weary and ill at ease, and turned my back on our
stove in the living-room. I n the fifties it warmed the feet of the
miners at the old Garibaldi. Many are the stories it could tell
(that's why I am so fond of i t ) . Yet it is scarred and riveted, and
takes black only without a shine. One of the Dutch Cleansers told
me what could be done with vinegar and sugar, and, I think, molasses.
Anyway. I felt I could not make it a success. It sounded like
candy. When 1 asked if there weTe some one she could recommend,
she thoughtfully considered the town, and shook her head. Every-
Bne, it seems, has work enough in her own home, except the Wastes.
By any chance that you might be interested in "Garibaldi," I am
going to tell you that he was taken up and put down in the cellar
that very afternoon. I would not be surprised if the crack in his
Pack widened perceptibly, from inward amusement over our very