23 April 1881 - 'How to Keep a Journal' by James Mason

I'm not sure why he's addressing it to his wife Nanette but you do you, James.

Some people are very sensitive on the subject of keeping a journal; should you ever hint at their doing such a thing, they look just as if a dog had bitten them. And yet it is a highly respectable practice, and one indulged in by many men and women remarkable for their good sense. Indeed, I shall go farther and assert that the keeping of a journal in some form or other is a necessary duty if one would derive the utmost profit, material and spiritual, from one's daily life.

It is quite a mistake to think that memory will answer well enough, and that all the events of our lives can be carried in our heads. Set them down in black and white, for memories are fickle and the deepest impressions in a few years fade away. I have even noticed that many a sensation, which at the moment seemed as if it would last for ever, has become very dim after a week.

A journal is a convenient storehouse of personal experience. "But," you say, "my personal experience is not worth the storing. I am only a girl leading a quiet life, without adventures and without incidents - one to whom to-day is like every other day, and every other day like to-day." For all that keep a journal, and you will be surprised how much you will find worth setting down and worth reading over, too. Your journal, it is true, will not be one of sensational interest, but for this, like those happy nations who have no history, you may be thankful.

It is not a hard task, my dear. The chief difficulty lies not in the starting of the journal, but in the keeping of it up. But you are not clever, you object. Stuff and nonsense! We know better than that. Cleverness, however, is not requisite, for your journal is to be nothing more than a faithful record of what goes on in that little world of which you are the centre. Fine writing, ornamental flourishes, and philosophic flights are all out of place.

In its pages, for one thing, you should make mention of all the people you know. There will be the friends who are dear to you, the pleasant acquaintances you have met, and the people of interest who have crossed your path. Family gatherings should be noticed, and all the changes which year after year are altering your circle  for the better or  for the worse. You should record the letters you write under the dates when they were written; the preachers you have heard, and the concerts you have attended.

Your studies should also have a conspicuous place, so that turning to your journal you may ascertain at once when, for example, you began to learn French, or when you took your first lesson in singing, and what progress, rapid or slow, you have made in those lines of learning, in which one day you mean to be proficient. The prizes and certificates you contend for should be included, and, as in a journal one is, as it were, talking to oneself, I hope you will never fail to mention your failures as well as your successes.

The places you visit should also be entered. You may chance never to see them a second time, so it is a good plan in every case to write on the spot a few lines of description for the purpose of at some future time reviving your recollection.

Our lives are greatly influenced by the accidents that befall us, and the circumstances into the midst of which we are thrown. These should always be recorded. But we must be cautious in doing this, or, at any rate, in indulging in prediction, lest we get into the habit of thinking every incident a revolution, and every trifle a catastrophe. There are some moments, no doubt, about which there can be no mistake - when sudden light breaks in upon the mind, and all things appear, and indeed are to us, quite new; but these are very rare, and it is not prudent to assume, even in a journal, that they have arrived.

What a host of other things remain to be included in your journal! There are the records of your little adventures, and, spite of what you have said, you know you have little adventures; your bright days of happiness; the books you have read, and what you have thought of them; the names of the books you have bought, and the magazines you have subscribed to; the clever sayings you have heard; the odd things you have seen; the romances in real life you have met with - and everyone meets with some - the strange ups and downs of this world of change, as these affect and interest yourself; the many good resolutions you have formed, and, alas! The many good resolutions you have broken.

Should you be anything of a naturalist, you will find an additional pleasure in recording all the phenomena of the circling year, and of posting up in your journal your notes from the book of nature. Human life must ever be of most interest; but birds and flowers and wind and rain have a charm of their own, and it is no proof of a superior intelligence to be above taking an interest in butterflies and beetles.

One common fault of journal-writing is a morbid self-consciousness. No fault could be worse, either in a journal or in anything else; but I am not afraid that you, who are always so natural, will fall into it. The journal you will keep will be one of incident and observation rather than one of reflection; it will not be so much a picture of your mind as a record of the events of your life. And such, to my thinking is for most persons the most sensible form of journal.

The great interest of a journal of course begins after it has been kept for some time. We turn it up then to review our past life, and see our existence as an artistic whole. We observe what changes have come over us; how our surroundings have altered, and our friends, and our pursuits, and our likes and dislikes.

You think you will never change, do you? Wait a while, and, perhaps, as some one has put it, "you will then burn all you now worship and worship all you now think only good to burn." And as for other people, why our stars often prove but meteors, and the idols of our existence have a sad habit of getting cracked and sometimes even of bursting outright.

A journal reminds us of many a day-dream we have indulged in, and of many a speculation as to the future which has not been realised. It is prudent, by the way, to confine these speculations to one's journal. I know you think you will one day be a duchess, but don't speak about it, which makes you almost as ridiculous as the American who was so confident of being successful at the Presidential election, that he liberally distributed his carte-de-visite with the inscription, "Mr So-and-So, Future President of the United States".

Every year you should make a point of going regularly over your journal, and taking note of all you have seen and done. This will enable you to lead a more orderly life in future; to see, sometimes, in a remarkable manner, the connection between the present and the past; and to recognise, over and over again, the Hand which is leading us and the care that is protecting us in every moment.

You may have noticed that those who keep journals are, as a rule, good conversationalists, and specially entertaining when they relate their own experience. No doubt this comes from the act of writing. An incident which we have taken pains to narrate pithily with the pen can usually be repeated quite as pithily with the tongue. Journals are also very handy for letter-writers, especially for those who have a large friendly correspondence. There is no need for sitting down and biting one's pen for information; turn up your journal and there it is. The only awkward feature is that should your correspondence ever come to be collected for the purpose of writing your life, it may be found that you have sent the same thing and in much the same words to half-a-dozen different people. But, much as I admire you, this is not at all likely.

The book which it is best to use is one of the large diaries, of which so many are published at the beginning of every year. We should have one with three days to a page, which is a good allowance for most people. A great advantage possessed by this form of journal is that it admits of our entering engagements in advance, calls to be made, promises to be kept, and so on.

There are usually two or three pages of blank paper at the beginning of the diaries we speak of, and these may be easily and profitably filled up.  It is a sensible plan to begin by setting down all those good resolutions by which we would regulate our lives. Almost everyone who is thoughtful has such good resolutions, though perhaps not reduced to writing, but the writing of them in this way brings them constantly under our notice and prevents their being hid away, as they are very apt to be, when most needed, in some dark corner of the memory.

After these resolutions should come a list of friends, and of all those people we would like to keep in mind, with their addresses. This should be succeeded by a list of birthday and other anniversaries.

Then should follow what may be called our *general plans; books to be read, places to be visited, walks to be taken, subjects we propose to study; all things, in short, regarding which we have no date fixed.

Last of all should come any notes regarding the money we may have to spend during the year; how much may be allowed for this and how much for that, so that we may at no time be in danger of "outrunning the constable."

As the year goes on, this portion of the journal will, no doubt, be subjected to alteration, for we will be modifying our resolutions, changing our circle, and completing our plans. With every new journal, of course, it should be entirely re-written.

A journal should be written up every day, no matter how tired or busy you may be. Make it a habit, and, custom being second nature, you will soon feel as uncomfortable if you go to bed without making the necessary entries as you would if, on getting up in the morning, you neglected to wash your face. "I shall write it up to-morrow," says the voice of laziness; that is the first step towards failure.

No doubt it is a labour, but don't shirk it. Let every day finish its own business; make that one of your good resolutions, and write up your journal every day and on the spot. A journal is valuable in proportion to the freshness of the impressions it records. With what keen feeling we remember, it may be years after this, this entry was penned with some loved voice still ringing in our ears, and that in some dear old home to which we return no more. When you and I, Nanette, came in from rambling in the forest, do you think I put off till to-morrow the wonderful things you said, and the glories of nature we saw? Not I.

Perhaps, however, you may be from home, when it would be inconvenient to carry a journal. Then carry a note-book and make the entries in it, to be copied into your journal when you have the opportunity.

It has often been remarked that quiet times, when you have most leisure for writing, are just those when there is least to write about, and that in busy times, when there is plenty to say, you cannot spare a moment. Write, say I, let the times be what they may; but write most when you have least leisure, for then you are both seeing and hearing most.

Should a journal be kept in regular form – that is, should it read just like a book? Not at all; at least not necessarily. Perhaps the more disjointed it is the better, because it is then most natural.

It certainly must not be in the grand style as if you were a heroine, or in the formal style, as if you wrote for publication and kept one eye on the paper and another on posterity Let it be nothing more than a quiet and honest record of your daily life, in which you strike no attitudes and aim at being nothing but yourself.

And when should this journal be started? To-day is always the best day; so open the book and make the first entry – "Read today an article in THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER on 'How to Keep a Journal' and this is the result." Good Nanette! May you live to keep it for many a year!

22 January 1881 - 'Good and Bad Tempers' by James Mason

Please suppress your own anger, and assume responsibility for the good tempers of everyone around you.

Girls, were I monarch of the globe, it would be laid at your feet, but fortune having granted me little more than a shadowy possession in the regions of air, you must take the will  for the deed, and accept of the best I have to offer in these occasional papers of good counsel. Of course, it is understood that you are acting up to them, so that all my pains and good intentions may not be thrown away. It was not of you that somebody wrote -

"Never will I give advice
Till you please to ask me thrice;
Which if you in scorn reject
'Twill be just as I expect."

This time we are to speak about "getting into a rage"; so, all of you, lend me your ears.

There is a woman told about in a popular legend who once stamped her foot on the ground in a passion, and she drove it so far in that it could not be drawn out again, so there she remained  for the rest of her days, a monument to the inconveniences of a bad temper. It is to be regretted that such monuments are not met with in real life, for of all deplorable things against which mankind and womankind should be warned, a fiery disposition is one of the most deplorable.

Some people are born of gentler nature, and so, without much trouble on their part, possess good tempers, but others are by nature so touchy that one can hardly say a word to them without danger of an explosion. I do not always blame them. The other day I met a man in a towering rage; "Excuse me," said he, "I inherit this disposition from my mother."

Let us not, I say, be too hard on such people. That one has fallen heir to an irritable constitution is not a fault; what we should object to and cry out against is when one gives way to it.

It is a great misery, as many of us know, to live with the ill-tempered; indeed may we all be preserved from even occasional contact with them. On the other hand how is it possible to avoid longing  for the society of her whom we are sure always to find with a smile on her face and pleasant words on her tongue?

If a peevish temper makes life disagreeable for other people, do you think the owner of it any better off/ Ask her. Old as the world is, it may be safely said that no one ever yet felt happy after a display of the fireworks of ill-humour. Let us keep, then, from growing angry if only because passion is on the high road to repentance, and repentance, it need hardly be added, is far from a comfortable state of mind.

What a bad example, too, the cross-grained set to their neighbours. This is sometimes not sufficiently thought of by those who in other respects are everything that is estimable, and all who are trying to do good in the world should be ever on their guard lest by all-timed anger they destroy their influence and make others doubt the sincerity of what is really at bottom a genuine Christian character. If a display of temper is specially objectionable in any, and specially dangerous, considering its influence on others, it is in those who profess themselves followers of Him Who is a Pattern of meekness.

Every exhibition of irritability sinks us in the estimation of our friends, and as the tendency to anger grows by being indulged in, ill-tempered people are in a fair way for having no friends at all. They end in being either hated or scorned. No wonder. A girl in an habitual rage is little better than a wild beast.

Look on it as you like, we are decided losers by anger. I often think of the niece whose maiden aunt left her five hundred pounds a year in her will, but the young lady one day fired up at something and made a sarcastic remark - people you know, are always saying foolish things when in a passion - and the aunt that very evening sent  for the lawyer and cancelled the clause in her niece's favour. It is to be hoped that none of us will ever regulate our conduct by purely mercenary considerations; but if ever you are remembered in an old lady's will, put a bridle on your tongue. Money is nowhere compared with right, but it is sad to think of being in the wrong, and losing five hundred pounds a year at the same time.

Temper never gains anything except when opposed to very weak natures, over whom to be victorious is no triumph. It is gentleness that rules the world, and the meek shall in more senses than one inherit the earth. "Be thou humble and peaceable," says an old writer, "and Jesus will be with thee." Now, it would be impossible, with a spark of truth, to say that of the ill-tempered.

On odd thing about getting angry is that most often it is about trifles, if not about nothing at all. Everyone has heard of the husband and wife who had a serious quarrel as to whether what they heard scratch behind the wainscot was a rat or a mouse. And, if my memory does not deceive me, another husband and wife had a violent dispute for no other reason than that the one asserted that the tea was made from Thames water, whilst the other was equally confident the water came from the New River. Countless tempers are lost for no better reasons than these.

But how shall we cure a bad temper? It is difficult, my child, for our passions are hard to restrain; but just as you can be charming when you please, so, by an effort, you can be sweet and gentle though all the world should try to irritate you. Perhaps you think it very difficult, but there never yet was a good thing easily come by.

You may feel angry - constitutionally you may be irritable; many are so, as I have said already - but never give your anger expression. Shut your mouth and say nothing. There was once a famous man who had an exceedingly bad temper. It certainly ran in his family, for his brother was just the same; and it is told that when any cause of offence was given him, he grew very red in the face, and remained for awhile silent, and when at last he spoke his words were calm and gentle. He never opened his mouth till he got the better of his rage. This is a noble example, and I would that all the world were like that great man. Bottle up your wrath, then, and if necessity compels you to speak, be as sparing of your words as if they cost five guineas apiece.

But to keep from uttering our anger is not enough; we must harbour no angry thoughts. We cannot help, if quick-tempered, the mere feeling of anger arising in our minds, but we need not let it remain there unless we please. Let there be, then, no nursing of your wrath to keep it warm. Turn at once to something else, and give it the cold shoulder.

Try, above all things, to cultivate noble views both as to life in this world and our future in the next. Whoever is so occupied will have neither time nor taste for petty squabbles and passions about nothing.

It is a prudent rule to avoid all occasions of anger. We should shun, for example, the company of people who irritate us, and in whose presence, for some reason or another, we feel "as cross as two sticks." Live with happy people if you can, for by so doing you will acquire something of their spirit. If you cannot manage that, the next best thing is to try to make those about you happy. But, on second thoughts, I should have called this the better thing, for there is the greater blessing attached to it. May you then, girls, be so busy in trying to make sunshine for those about you that you will forget what it is to be cross, and that there are such things as bad tempers to be met with anywhere!

The gaining of mastery over one's temper improves the tone of one's character, not to say anything about good looks, for it is well known what a preserver of the features we have in a sweet disposition. It is something, girls, to know that we are conquerors - conquerors over ourselves. We feel that we have done what is difficult, for to rule one's spirit is difficult.

You remember what was said by the wisest of men, and is recorded in the inspired book: "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."

8 January 1881 - 'French School-Girls'

The newspapers recently had many comments on the opening of a young ladies' college at Castle-Sarrasin, between Toulouse and Bordeaux, the first of many similar institutions to supplement if not displace the convent schools, where girls of the upper and middle classes could alone get education. Mr. G.A. Sala, in an article in a daily paper, had some interesting statements about "the French school-girl." French married ladies enjoy a surprising amount of freedom, which, it is to be hoped, they invariably turn to the best of uses; but French unmarried girls cannot be said to enjoy any freedom at all. They are not maltreated, for, although the French do not outrageously spoil their children as the Americans do, they treat them, as a rule, with unvarying kindness and tenderness, and consort with them on terms of much greater familiarity than is customary in children-loving but austere England. French fathers and mothers are petite pere and petite mere to their youngest children, who are accustomed to "thee" and "thou" them from infancy, and are not taught to dread them. On the other hand, they venerate them, and a grey-bearded Frenchman of fifty does not think it derogatory to his dignity, when writing to his mother, to subscribe himself ton fils soumis et obeisant.

But the French girl, until she be marriageable, is kept in the strict seclusion. She may not walk out alone, or even in the company of her sister. She is never left alone with an unmarried gentleman. She may not write to a gentleman under sixty, unless he be of kindred to her. She is debarred from indulging in a hundred harmless pastimes and frolics in which English girls habitually indulge, and the enthusiasm which Frenchmen are wont to express for les charmantes jeunes Meeses Anglaises may be to a great extent explained by the fact that they very rarely have a chance to freely communing with unmarried young ladies of their own nation. Married women, and not girls, are usually the heroines of French novels of society, and when the novelist does incidentally allude to a young girl of gentle nurture he generally dismisses her as a jeune fille reveuse. The truth is, that the author has so few opportunities of speaking to her that he has no experience to guide him in picturing to himself what she may be dreaming about. Precluded by the Median and Persian laws of la famille from describing female character in the upper and middle ranks of society, the romance-writers fly in despair to the foyer of the actress, the boudoir of the cocotte, or the garret of the ouvriere. There they are able to find an abundance of models and a plenitude of opportunities  for the observation and analysis of social characteristics. La famille has concerned itself very little with female Bohemia, who have not by any means been kept in seclusion in their girlhood.

That the segregation of unmarried girls from general society in France has been concurrently attended by very imperfect educational training is undeniable. Were it not that the French are a naturally witty, shrewd, and self-possessed people, a French girl of the upper middle classes might appear to an English or American young lady to be a lamentably ignorant specimen of "femininity." She may have picked up a few scraps of English in her pensionnat, but she is never taught even the rudiments of Latin; she would think it unpatriotic to speak German; her knowledge of the history and literature of her own country is limited, and that of the history and literature of other countries usually nil. A little linear drawing constitutes the sum of her acquaintance with mathematics, and she may be deemed fortunate if she has managed to gather a slight smattering of physical science, and that not of a very accurate kind, from the writings of M. Jules Verne. If she has been educated in a convent, the good nuns have probably taught her that three-fourths of the things which she will enjoy with such eager zest when she is married and free are essentially wicked, and it is not at all improbable that if she has been brought up in a nunnery in the provinces, her clerical instructors have instilled into her such ideas on politics as to make her regard the existing Government of her country with horror and aversion.

An English school-girl happily knows much more about hardbake and almond rock than she does about Conservatism or Liberalism; and from the age of sixteen to twenty she is too much occupied with matters of dress and amusement and affairs of the heart to trouble herself about which political party is in office, or which is in opposition. If she has any politics at all they are "papa's"; unhappily, as French society is at present constituted, the politics of a French young lady are in most cases directly the reverse of those of her papa. They are mamma's, and mamma's politics are those of M. Le Cure. The only wonder is that, educationally hampered and restricted at every turn, incessantly watched by the Argus eyes of parents and priests, the young Frenchwoman, when she has passed through the probationary stages of a school-girl and a demoiselle a marier should bear herself with the confident aplomb and hold her own in the brilliantly self-assured manner customary with her after marriage. The formalities at the Mairie and the ceremonial of the nuptial benediction at the church seem instantaneously to have transformed her into another personage, and she takes her place, be it in society or behind the comptoir of her husband's shop or cafe, with a perfectly easy, self-reliant, and satisfied air. Yesterday she was all timidity and taciturnity. Today she would confront M. Le Prefet without hesitation, and is loquacious even to garrulity. She is free; and that may have something to do with the rapidity and the completeness of the metamorphosis.

Whether increased educational facilities by means of public school or collegiate training of a liberal and secular kind will exercise a favourable influence on the character of the always fascinating but often uneducated young Frenchwoman remains to be seen. The progress of the experiment at Castel-Sarrasin will be watched with much interest on both sides of the Channel, but the gibers and jokers must hold their hands for a time, and refrain from prematurely sarcastic disparagement of a new generation of les femmes savants.

18 September 1880 - 'On Being Stuck-Up' by James Mason

"I thought," says a character in an old story, "that humility lodged in the heart of every maiden - but I was mistaken." Yes, girls, he was very much mistaken,  for the world is full of pride, and, though you are all very nice, one cannot help seeing that most of you are far from as humble and meek as you might be. 

Turn over a new leaf, say I. When a girl is "stuck-up" she is in the most unbecoming state of mind possible, and the most uncomfortable, too. There is nothing like humility for beauty and happiness.

And what are you all proud about? Different things. Maggie is proud because she has a doll's house completely furnished from a piano to a blacking-brush; Kate because her father has five thousand pounds a year; Alice because her mother is second cousin to a baronet; Minnie because her golden hair reaches past her waist; Ellen because of that handsome dress she got last spring; Annie because she has a Grecian nose; and Blanche because her mind is made up to marry a prince - and so she will, no doubt when a prince drops down at her feet like a ripe gooseberry.

What trumpery reasons all of these are! A great conqueror, or a famous poet, or a wonderful musician, or a leading statesman, or a popular author - all these people might be excused if they carried their heads a little high. Your tendency, however, it must be confessed, is to be stuck-up about trifles, and so,  for next to nothing, you put yourself in a fair way for growing up to be haughty and, it naturally follows, disagreeable women. But, my friends, you will take counsel in time, and we shall all adorn ourselves with that meek and quiet spirit which, more than pride and strength, wins and rules the world.

The worst of pride is that it stands in the way of improvement. It would not be correct to say that this is always the case, but certainly those who give themselves airs on account of what they are will not put forth great exertions to become something better. Stuck-up people are not the folks we see straining every nerve to become wiser or more estimable.

Pride almost invariably is fatal to the performance of any good work whatever, and for this reason; it is always thinking of itself. Now, the secret of doing successful work, and it is a secret easily carried about, is to think only of the work. The moment pride or anything else throws its shadow between us and our work, we are not likely to do it as it should be done. It is strange that on this account pride and many other objectionable passion have not long ago been hounded out of this busy world.

You will see, if you keep your eyes open, that proud people have very few friends. They sit alone, for they think none in the world good enough to associate with them. Who envies them their isolation? If they were happy it would be different, but they are pretty miserable. No one ever yet saw a proud face without observing in it lines of discontent and unhappiness that would be dearly bought even though we were in every other respect the favourites of fortune.

It is a common notion that pride is a proper sign of one's occupying a superior position in the world. This is quite a mistake. It is chiefly upstarts who give themselves air, and those who have been longest up have most humility. See that gentle lady whom you may watch for twenty years without noticing a trace of pride; she is descended in a direct line from Julius Caesar! Susan says she can supply a contrast. The most stuck-up woman she knows has "risen," as they say, "from nothing." When a little girl she used to run, without shoes or stockings, to the works in which her father made bricks, carrying him his dinner in a tin can. Now she has parted with both poverty and humility, and has as much pride in her head as she has little grammar on her tongue. Truly, as the world goes nowadays, the proudest people are those who ride in carriages and drop their "h's" all over the road.

Perhaps you think that to be humble is to be weak. Quite the reverse is the case: it is pride that is weak. Always going with its nose in the air, it forgets to look at its feet as all prudent people are in the habit of doing. No wonder pride comes before a fall, as Solomon says. A girl may well tumble in the gutter when she goes holding up her head as if she were keeping an eye on the man in the moon.

One great cause of pride, I am sure, is our taking a narrow view of things. We think of our town as if it were the world, of our family as if it composed the nation, and of the people in the next street as if in them we had the only models worth copying and the only critics worth respecting.

We may do better than that.  Look out on the great world, on all the wonders of creation, on all the noble and good who have sacrificed themselves for their fellows, on the long course of history, on the millions who people the earth, and on the heaven that stretches above it. Then turn your thoughts upon yourselves and see whether there is any room in your minds for pride. I don't think there will be.

Be humble, then; yes, be very humble. Humility lies at the root of that religion of which, I hope, we are all true disciples. Christianity has no promises, no hopes, no encouragements to offer to the proud. In this world and in the next - though we too often act as if we thought the contrary - the humble have by a long way the best of it.

21 August 1880 - 'How I Managed My Picnic' by Dora Hope

It was a week to my birthday and I had not yet decided how to celebrate the great anniversary. My parents had always allowed us children the privilege of having some sort of treat on these occasions, but this year, being the first since my leaving school, I was very desirous of inviting some of my young friends to spend part of the day with me, and of entertaining them in a manner worthy the dignity of a grown-up young lady, no longer a school-girl.

Many ideas on the subject had suggested themselves to me, and been banished as unsuitable for one reason or another, and at present I was wavering between a tea-party in the garden and a picnic. As I sat pondering the matter my brother came into the room.

He is a year or two my senior, and possesses largely all those habits of teasing and jeering peculiar to brothers. He had been known, however, when in certain rare and happy moods, to do me some really "good turns"; so, hoping to find him by chance in one of these delightful humours, I ventured to ask his advice.

"Tom, dear," I said, "what - or what do you think of picnics? I want to have an excursion to some nice pretty place, and having tea gipsy fashion, you know - in fact, a picnic; what do you think of the girls and me having one next Thursday? Don't you think it would be nice?"

The creature fell back in his chair and laughed aloud. "Why, Gerty," he cried, "the idea is really too amusing. Have you so soon forgotten that ghastly entertainment given by the Somers's last year, and when dinner time came everybody had brought cold chickens, and there was nothing but teaspoons to carve them with? Oh, yes, have a picnic by all means; you'll have a jolly time of it no doubt, particularly when it begins to rain, as it is certain to do. Only don't expect me to come, that's all."

" 'Nobody asked you, sir, she said.' I'm not going to ask anybody at all, except some of the school girls."

Being rather of a contrary disposition, I determined now that it should be a picnic, if only to show Tom that they can be well managed.

That affair of the Somers's certainly was a failure. There were twenty guests, and each had been asked to bring a contribution to the feast. We had driven in breaks to the place decided upon, and had a very pleasant morning. But, as Dr. Johnson aptly remarks that the loveliest view possible is improved by a good hotel in the foreground, so the success of a picnic depends a good deal, though it sounds gluttonous to say so, on the arrangement of the luncheon. Of course, everyone must go prepared not to mind having salt put on one's tart instead of sugar, or to find sugar and salt forgotten altogether. One must smile and appear to enjoy it when the salad is emptied upon one's lap, and drink with a relish though the beverage is sprinkled with expiring flies and spiders. Trifling accidents of this sort are unavoidable, and indeed add to the excitement and novelty of the meal. But when, as at the Somers' picnic, there is really not enough to eat, and one's appetite is sharpened by a long morning in the fresh air, it is certainly dampening to the spirits.

Most of the guests had thought they were only expected to provide some small accessory to the meal, so had brought a basket of fruit, some salad, or such like slender provision. Several had indeed brought a cold fowl, and it was not until we were waiting to be served that, as Tom said, the dreadful discovery was made that knives and forks had been omitted altogether, though there was a plentiful supply of spoons. Mrs. Somers had intended each of her guests to bring sufficient for his or her own luncheon, and had herself provided only for her own family and the guests in her house. Happily she had over calculated their appetites, and was able to offer some little provision to the other hungry ones. So I believe in the end every one made a tolerably good lunch, though Tom declares that he and the other gentlemen had to satisfy the cravings of hunger with salad and ginger-beer corks.

But the most painful part of the luncheon was when someone discovered a leg of lamb which had been overlooked, and produced it triumphantly. But we might as well have been without it, so insurmountable was the difficulty of carving it with a teaspoon. Salt had also been omitted from the list, though this is a very trifling thing, and many people do not take any when there is plenty to be had; yet when they know there is none, they feel the greatest craving for it, and the meal seems very unpalatable without it.

With the remembrance of this unsatisfactory repast fresh in my mind, I resolved to be very careful that nothing was forgotten, and, above all, that there was plenty to eat. So I went straight away to have a consultation with my mother as to ways and means.

"Well, dear," she said, "the first thing to decide is, I think, where to go to; and I do not think you could do better than Vudley. You could ramble about the old castle before lunch, and afterwards go into the woods to get some wild flowers to bring home. And there is the waterfall only a short distance from the castle, so you will not be at a loss for amusements."

"But, mother, how shall we get there? It is too far to walk, and we cannot all get into the pony carriage," said I.

"I was just thinking of that, dear; but I think five of you might drive, and the rest will have to go by train to Vudley station, which is not more than half a mile from the castle and woods."

This settled, I flew off and issued my invitations, nine in number, asking my friends to be at our house by half-past nine on Thursday morning, unless it were wet or showery, in which case the picnic would be postponed to the first fine day.

Many were the consultations mother and I had as to what we should take for luncheon. I had very much set my heart on the popular idea of boiling a kettle and making tea; but as mother pointed out it would involve so many more implements and so much more trouble that I willingly gave it up, and was not at all sorry afterwards that I had done so.

Several times, when we thought our bill of fare very complete, one of us would be seized with a new and superior idea, quite upsetting the former arrangement. First we settled to take a joint of cold lamb, a bottle of mint sauce, a jar of dressed salad, rolls, butter (in a preserve pot with ice), two fruit pies, and a jar of Devonshire cream. This we thought complete, when an amendment was suggested by Tom, who could not refrain from taking a lively interest when eatables were in question, though he poured scorn and derision on the idea of my having a picnic at all.

Haunted by the conviction that we should forget to take knives and forks, he suggested a couple of cold fowls, ready cut up, in place of the joint; and, as this would save me the trouble and responsibility of carving, to which I was but little accustomed, it was agreed upon unanimously, and mother went off to give cook her orders.

In a minute I heard her voice calling to me from the kitchen:

"Gerty, dear," she said, when I went in, "cook has just been saying how would you like a dozen little meat pies, instead of the chickens? I think you would find them very convenient, and you will not then have to consider who must put up with the drumsticks in helping the fowls."

"Yes, mother, it will be a great improvement. As I could not eat four or six drumsticks myself, I should have to inflict them on several of my guests, which would not be polite, would it? I think the pies a splendid idea."

Finally our luncheon hamper contained the following: - One meat pie each, and two or three over in case of anyone's appetite being inordinately large; a dozen and a half rolls, a jar of salad ready dressed, a cucumber, a jar of butter packed with ice and wrapped in a flannel, a jelly in the mould to be turned out when required, one raspberry and one gooseberry tart, and a jar of Devonshire cream. The sugar and salt were put in bottles and well labelled, and by way of beverage we had a dozen bottles of assorted drinks, such as lemonade and gingerbeer, of course in a hamper by themselves, which also contained two corkscrews. I may mention that the meat pies were not taken out of their tins till we were ready to eat them, which insured their carrying well.

In the hamper we took a tablecloth, and a knife and fork and spoon for each person, with one or two of each extra for serving; two plates each, and a few tumblers, and one dish  for the salad and cucumber. This was everything we could think of, and it proved to be everything that was necessary, which was a great relief to me.

The important day arrived at last, and was, as we had hardly dared to hope, bright and warm, and my friends assembled in due time. The driving party had to start shortly before those who went by train, so carefully stowing our hampers underneath the seats of the pony carriage, with a bundle of rags and cloaks, we despatched them, to meet again at Vudley station, whence we proceeded all together, "ride and tie," to the spot we had fixed upon to spend our day.

We explored the ruined castle and its grounds, and at one o'clock assembled for what was, I am afraid, really the event of the day. I and one other girl had gone to the spot shortly before that time to lay the cloth and spread the feat under the welcome shade of a large old oak; and very pretty it looked when all was read. We had originally intended to lunch in one of the old roofless halls of the castle; but its ivy-clad walls, though picturesque when looked at with a poetic eye, appeared to us too thickly populated with spiders and earwigs to make close proximity to them pleasant for any length of time, so we preferred to remain under the shadow of the trees outside the edifice.

We spread shawls, upon which to sit, all round the tablecloth, and at each person's place, by their knife, fork and roll, was laid a little bunch of flowers, which we flattered ourselves, to quote Mr. Spriggins, "imparted an air of botanical elegance to the scene." Having collected our party together, which we did by means of repeated performances on a loud and ear-piercing whistle, borrowed  for the occasion to take the place of a dinner bell, we seated ourselves as gracefully as might be, and prepared to fall upon the banquet.

But before sitting down I suggested that we should sing our usual school grace, so with loyal hearts and true, we sang, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." And I do believe that with the music of our fresh young voices our hearts blended harmoniously. God ever keep them so!

Our meat pies were highly appreciated, as indeed were all the viands. I found that we had just hit the right quantities required, and there was neither too much nor too little of anything, though I had thought mother had provided too bountifully. But, then, I had forgotten that a whole morning out of doors is highly conducive to hunger.

When we had finished, and whilst still reclining round what had once been a sumptuous repast, but was now only a wreck, one of my friends rose to her feet, and in most appropriate and flowery language, proposed the health of "their noble and honoured hostess," by which she meant me. I responded, and, though very short, and somewhat faulty in construction, I fear, my maiden speech was received with rounds of applause. After a little more eloquence from others of the guests, we packed up the plates and dishes in their hampers again, and then, digging a hole with a stick, we interred all pieces of paper, bottles and other remnants of the feast that were to be left behind.

Some of those present rather made fun of this proceeding, but I insisted upon it, as I have often thought it such a shame to leave paper and all sorts of unsightly odds and ends about, to disfigure the place where a picnic has been.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in rambling about the woods, which were radiant with flowers and ferns, and musical with birds' songs. After a visit to the waterfall, we found the dusk was beginning to creep on, and that we must turn towards home, very much to our regret,  for the day had passed away too quickly for all of us.

I must mention that, when dragging our hampers from under the carriage seats before lunch, I discovered a smaller one which I had not seen before. It was found to contain a good supply of splendid strawberries, and had been put in by Tom as his contribution to our much-abused picnic.

That boy really has some good points, after all.

7 August 1880 - 'Our Own Colleges'

In a previous article we dealt with the subject of "Our Own Schools," and it is our intention in the present to speak of those more advanced institutions whose special care is, to use the phrase of the day, "the higher education of women." There is no question as to the importance of the subject. Addison, in one of his essays, pictures the human soul as a block of marble in a quarry which shows none of its inherent beauties till the polisher sets to work and brings out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental spot and vein that runs through it. So, he says, it is with education: "when it works upon a noble mind, it draws out to vice every latent virtue and perfection, which without such help are never able to make their appearance."

Cambridge will be our starting point. The Cambridge institution which comes first to mind in connection with woman's education is Girton College. This college dates its origin from the year 1869, when it was opened at Hitchin. It was incorporated in 1872, removed to the parish of Girton, near Cambridge, in 1873, and had its accommodation considerably enlarged three years ago.

Candidates for admission to Girton College must pass an entrance examination, and furnish satisfactory certificates of character. Except in special cases students are not received under eighteen years of age. Entrance examinations are held in London in March and June, the fee being one pound. The subjects include the principles and practice of arithmetic, English grammar, physical and political geography, English history, and Scripture history - not required, however, in the case of conscientious objections - and any two of several optional subjects, of which one must be a language.

The instruction given by the college consists of divinity; modern languages - English, French and German; classics; mathematics (pure and mixed); moral science, natural science, history, and vocal music. Students are at liberty to select  a course of study but no student may take more than a maximum or less than a minimum number of subjects.

Degree certificates are conferred by Girton College on such students as are proved by examination to have arrived at a fixed standard of proficiency. The course for an ordinary degree certificate occupies about three years, half of each year being spent in college; for honours the time allowed is somewhat longer. A certificate called a college certificate is conferred on any student who passes, to the satisfaction of the college, examinations similar in subjects and standard to those qualifying for B.A. of the University of Cambridge. The following deviations, however, are permitted: French and English, or German and English, may be substituted for Latin or Greek, and English, French, and German for both Latin and Greek. The theological part of the examination may also be omitted, of objected to.

The charge for board, lodging and instruction at Girton College amounts to £35 per term. This covers the whole of the college expenses.

Girton College being a model institution of its kind, has received substantial support from many of the leading friends of progress. Several scholarships have been founded, and, to speak only of what is recent, considerable grants have been made by some of the wealthy companies of the city of London to the building fund of the college. The assistance given in this way has been specially opportune, as, in consequence of the rapid increase in the number of students, it became necessary to add to the building, and a debt was thus incurred, of which about £5,000, we believe, still remains to be paid off.

The number of students at present attending Girton College is over forty. One of them, our readers will most likely recollect, attracted considerable attention early this year by passing an examination, which but for her sex would have placed her in the position of Eighth Wrangler.

Newnham Hall is another Cambridge institution which owes its origin to the increased interest taken in the higher education of women. It was founded in 1875 to receive students coming from a distance to attend lectures, and the demands on its accommodation have been such that a sister establishment, under the name of Norwich House, was opened in the October of 1877,  for the reception of sixteen students. The students at Newnham Hall number thirty-three, and the Principal has at present applications from far more than she can admit.

To enter Newnham Hall the student must first of all furnish the Principal with satisfactory reference. Then, unless under special circumstances, she must, if she means to qualify  for the Cambridge Higher Local Examination, pass in English history, English literature, and arithmetic before coming into residence. Those who have taken honours in the Cambridge Senior Local Examinations are exempt from this rule. No student must be under seventeen years of age.

The charge for board and lodging is twenty guineas for each term of eight weeks. The fees for instruction vary slightly according to the line of study, but they will, in most cases, be covered by four and a half guineas a term.

In connection with Newnham Hall there are several entrance exhibitions of five guineas a term, awarded to students who require assistance and whose ability is unmistakeable. These exhibitions are tenable with scholarships, and the scholarships to be competed for are becoming every year of greater importance. A limited number of fifteen guineas a year are awarded to students whose means are small and who have attained some intellectual distinction. Not to speak of others, three scholarships of fifty pounds a year for two years were given at the Higher Local Examination in June of this year by the Cambridge Association for Promoting the Higher Education of Women.

The lectures delivered at Cambridge under the auspices of the association we have just named embrace all the subjects included in the Cambridge Higher Local Examination, combined with more advanced teaching in the different subjects of the University course for students who have passed this examination. They are open to women not under seventeen years of age, who must reside in some house approved of by the committee of the association.

There are over thirty professors whose lectures at Cambridge are open to women, indeed women may derive benefit from almost the entire teaching staff of the University. The subjects of these lectures are: astronomy, botany, archaeology, law, moral philosophy, pure mathematics, civil law, fine art, Sanskrit, natural experimental philosophy, political economy, international law, geology, anatomy, Hebrew, Greek, medicine, chemistry, Latin, mineralogoy, Arabic, modern history, Anglo-Saxon, mechanism, applied mechanics, and divinity.

Oxford, in 1879, followed the example so nobly set by Cambridge, and Lady Margaret Hall was opened  for the benefit of women desirous of improving themselves by study. Its special object is to afford such students the protection and training of an academical house on the principles of the Church of England, but ample provision is made  for the liberty of members of other religious bodies.

Those desirous of admission to Margaret Hall must of course forward unexceptionable references to the Principal, and students coming from any other place of education must bring a letter of recommendation from its authorities. Students will not be allowed to reside for less than an academical year without special leave.

Board and lodging at this Hall costs £25 a term, or £75 a year, exclusive of charges which are strictly personal. The authorities hope that, as the Hall grows, it will be found possible to reduce this amount. Sisters or other ladies sharing the same room are allowed a reduction, and provision is made in certain cases, by exhibitions or otherwise for students whose resources are limited. The fees for instruction amount to about £15 a year.

Somerville Hall at Oxford was also opened in 1879. It is intended  for the reception of students who have left home to attend the lectures of the Oxford Association for Promoting the Higher Education of Women. Whatever the religious denomination to which its inmates belong they are all placed on the same footing. The life of the students is modelled on that of an English family. Prayers are read daily, and on Sundays students are expected, as a rule, to attend some place of worship. The students must be at least seventeen years old.

There are four exhibitions of twenty-five pounds each tenable at this Hall by students who are preparing to become teachers. Students have also a chance of winning the "Mary Somerville" scholarship of thirty pounds a year for three years for mathematics This scholarship is awarded after examination by a Committee of the Association for Promoting the Higher Education of Women in Oxford.

Turning our attention now to the Metropolis, we find much to speak about. First of all, there is Queen's College, in Harley-street, an institution founded in 1848 and incorporated by Royal Charter in 1853. It is intended for the general education of ladies and for granting certificates of knowledge.

There is a useful four years' course at Queen's College, to which girls are admitted at the age of fourteen. The higher course is for students above eighteen. It prepares  for the first B.A. examination of the University of London, and includes such subjects as church history, botany, English language, French literature, Greek, Latin, mathematics, physiology, Roman history, English history, German, harmony, chemistry, geology.

The fees are one guinea for each course of ten lectures; four guineas  for the lectures of a whole term. The first lecture of each course is free, and five shillings is charged for any subsequent single lecture.

Two scholarships of thirty guineas each for two years are open to competition, at the beginning of the Michaelmas term, to students preparing  for the B.A. examination. Candidates must be at least eighteen years of age.

Certificates of associateship, which may prove of considerable use in making one's way in the world, are given to scholars of not less than six years' standing, on their proving their proficiency in the subjects studied by them, and paying a fee of one guinea. Certificates of proficiency in any single subject are granted to ladies, whether connected with the College or not, on their fulfilling certain conditions and passing the required examination.

Trinity College, London, has recently opened its examination in arts and music to women. Special classes for ladies at cheap rates are conducted by qualified professors, and the examinations are open to candidates who have been educated there or elsewhere.

At Bedford College in York-place, Portman-square, young women may also pursue their studies with advantage. The work of the classes here prepares for matriculation and graduation at the University of London. The fees for regular students who pursue a systematic course of study, are eight guineas a term; for occasional students, who may select any number of separate classes, the charge is two guineas a term for one class meeting twice a week, and one guinea and a half for any additional class after the first.

Regular students not under eighteen years of age, who have diligently attended classes for at least three sessions, and have passed with credit the examinations of those classes, are entitled to the diploma of "Associate of Bedford College."

The ladies' division of the Crystal Palace School of Art, Science and Engineering now numbers about five hundred pupils. It was established about twenty years ago, with the idea of utilising the valuable courts and collections of the Crystal Palace for instruction in art. The system of tuition is in some subjects in the style of private tutorial instruction by the best masters, but other subjects are taught on the University method, in accordance with the regulations of the Syndicate of the University of Cambridge, by whom some lectures and classes are conducted. The number of students admitted into any class is strictly limited.

The City of London College for Ladies has a senior departments, in which there are classes for ladies who wish to study special subjects and for pupils wishing to prepare  for the Cambridge, Oxford, and other higher examinations for women, including those of London and St. Andrew's Universities. We must not omit also to notice that the highest division of the North London Collegiate School for Girls takes rank as a college for women.

At the University College, London, classes in all subjects are open to both men and women, who are taught in some classes together and in others separately. Particulars as to these classes may be obtained from the College Calendar. This well-known institution was founded in 1826, and opened two years later as "The University of London." A change, however, was made in 1836, when it received a charter as University College. The Royal Charter of 1856 was annulled and the college was re-incorporated with additional powers in 1869.

For advancing the education of women of limited means and little leisure several institutions have been established in London and other large towns. The Brompton Evening College for Women is one of these. This college was founded by the Women's Educational Union to supply women employed during the day with systematic teaching by evening classes, and to provide a comfortable resort and pleasant occupation for leisure hours. There are classes in various subjects, both elementary and advanced.

Another institution of the same class is the College for Working Women in Fitzroy-square. An endeavour is made here, by systematic teaching, to supply women occupied during the day with higher education than has generally been within their reach, and also to promote mutual help and fellowship between teachers and students and all members of the college. Periodical examinations are held, and at these students may obtain certificates of the Society of Arts free of expense.

The College for Men and Women, in Queen-square, Bloomsbury, was founded in 1863, with much the same object as the two just mentioned. The number of students at present is about three hundred and fifty. The fees for each course are from one shilling to four shillings a term. To all establishments of this class one cannot but wish success. Young ladies who have little else to do than attend classes and study their lessons can hardly realise the enthusiasm that must exist before one can throw one's heart into learning after a hard day's work.

Before we leave speaking of education in London we must devote a word or two to London University. This is not an institute for teaching, nor a body of teachers and scholars, but a body of persons empowered to examine candidates and confer degrees. It was created under a Royal Charter in 1836, at the same time that the University of London, as we have already mentioned, received its charter and changed its name to University College. A totally new charter was granted in 1863.

Women are now admitted to all degrees at London University without exception. This is under a supplemental charter, granted on the 14th of May, 1878.

The degrees obtainable are those of Bachelor and Master of Arts, Bachelor and Doctor of Medicine, Bachelor and Doctor of Laws, Bachelor and Doctor of Science, Bachelor and Master of Surgery, Bachelor and Doctor of Music, and Doctor of Literature. For information as to the examinations for these degrees, and also the exhibitions and scholarships to be competed for in connection with the University of London, we must refer the reader to the University Calendar, our own space not being equal to the occasion.

Some provision is made in Bristol  for the higher education of women in the University College. This college is intended to supply for persons of either sex above the ordinary school age the means of continuing their studies in science, languages, history, and literature. The fees for day lectures are generally five guineas for each course, for three terms, and four guineas for two consecutive terms. Those for evening lectures are seven shillings for one term, half-a-guinea for two terms, and fifteen shillings for three terms. There are several college scholarships open to women as well as men, and the Clifton Association for Promoting the Higher Education of Women offers four scholarships for women, each forth fifteen pounds, and tenable for one year.

At the Liverpool Institute there are classes for women specially designed for such as wish to work their way in the world. No students are received under sixteen. The fees for each class are ten shillings a term.

Dublin possesses a useful institution in the shape of Alexandra College, established in 1866, to the classes of which girls above fifteen years of age are admitted. We meet here with the novelty of correspondence classes, the students belonging to which reside at a distance and are supplied with the regular weekly work of any class and with examination papers. The themes and exercises are corrected and the examination papers marked by the regular professors on payment of the college fees.

Certificates of general proficiency are granted at Alexandra College to such students as pass a satisfactory examination in English language and literature, and in at least four other subjects, literary or scientific, selected by themselves. Special certificates are also granted in separate subjects to pupils who have studied the subjects in which they desire to be examined for six terms, or for any less number of terms within which a course of lectures is completed.

Queen's College, in Molesworth-street, Dublin, is also devoted to the general education of women. There is a finishing course here, recommended to governesses, embracing English language and literature, English composition, ancient and modern history, geography, mathematics, drawing and painting, natural science, one modern language, Latin, Greek, pianoforte, and theory of music, choral singing, elocution, political economy, logic, and the art of teaching.

In Belfast, at the Methodist College, there are classes for lady students. The rate of fees may be judged by the quotation of one guinea a term for one subject of two hours a week. Admission to all the classes is four guineas and a half per term. At the end of year ladies who have attended a class in any subject regularly, and who pass the final examination satisfactorily, receive a certificate. Special certificates of general proficiency are given to any student who, after having regularly attended classes for two years, passes a satisfactory examination in no fewer than five subjects, two of which must be English and French.

And so ends this paper. We have mentioned briefly the leading colleges in the country, for women, and we shall not detain the reader by enlarging on the advantages to be gained by attending them. It will be enough if we all lay to heart this sage advice: "Above all things, study. Whether  for the sake of learning, or for any other reason, study. For, whatever the motives that impel you at first, you will soon love study for its own sake."

24 July 1880 - 'A Girls' Walking Tour' by Dora Hope - Part Two

Wednesday morning - much refreshed, we rose with the lark (unless, indeed, that estimable bird rises before 7.30), and having had our usual substantial breakfast we went on our way without staying to inspect the lions of Farnham, or even to inquire if there were any.

"I'm sure we may congratulate ourselves on having good tempers," said the poet, as we stepped briskly along in the bright morning air, "because my father prophesied that we should all have quarrelled with each other before the first day was over, and should probably part and return to our respective homes on the second."

"But why should we quarrel any more than anyone else?" asked one.

"Well, I could not quite grasp his reason, but he said people always do on walking tours; it's a way they have, I suppose. They get so tired of each other's society after a day or two."

"Naturally, they do, when the pedestrians are of the male sex," said our artist, who is something of a man-hater, "and very likely we should have been no exception to the rule had there been any gentlemen with us, so I think we have clearly proved that our arrangement is the best." Of course we all agreed, and rather than let the prediction come true I forbore  for the future to express my opinions with regard to the cooking-stove, since the others all seemed peculiarly impressed with the conviction that it was the secretary's duty to carry the obnoxious machine.

Exhilarated by the fresh air and bright sun, we walked at a fine pace towards the wild barren country round the Hind-head, intending to stay the night at Haslemere.

Tilford was soon reached, and here we paused to buy provisions and also to inspect a splendid old oak tree on the green.

"It is called the King's Oak," said the pathfinder, "and is one of the boundary marks of the Waverley Abbey lands. Years ago orders were given for it to be cut down; but the country people assembled from far and near to protect the tree, which they regarded with great respect and even affection. They nailed plates of tin round the trunk so that the axes could not take effect." Seeing what she took to be incredulous looks, she added - "There are the pieces of tin before your eyes, so it must be true."

Whether the pathfinder's pretty story were true or not, we could not but be glad that the hoary old tree had stood so long, and such as were able made some hasty sketches of it, whilst the others went on an expedition to the one shop of the village, and secured a heterogeneous collection of viands for dinner.

As we left Tilford with its pretty bridge and river behind us, the aspect of the country grew wilder, and cultivation began to give place to heather-clad hill and wide breezy moor. The road was very dusty and glaring white. The sun, mounting high in the heavens, blazed down upon us, making us pine  for the sight of a tree or anything that would cast more shade than a small umbrella; but we pushed on bravely till the strange mounds called the "Devil's Jumps" were clearly visible.

At this point a very unexpected "ten minutes' interval" took place. It is superfluous to relate that we owed this halt to our president, who, spying a small lake lying placid among the heather a short distance from the road, insinuated how delightful a closer investigation of it would be. The pathfinder warned us of the distance still to be traversed, and expatiated on the beauties which would soon be unfolded to our wondering view; we looked at the hot white road, then at the clear cool water. Alas! The temptation was too strong, and, headed by the president, we set off at a run, away from the path of duty, feeling rather like Christian and Hopeful when straying into Bye-path meadow. We did not, however, like them, come to repent having strayed, for of all the delightful remembrances of our tour, none is looked back to with more pleasure than the rest beside that lonely lake.

We lay down on the springy heather, most luxurious of couches, revelling in the floods of sunshine, whilst a gentle breeze fanned our hot faces as we gazed up into the cloudless blue overhead. We drank from the transparent water, where a tiny waterfall rushed over the stones in mimic wrath. We watched the caddis-flies and other "strange creepy creature" cutting capers in the water, all unconscious of the curious eyes marking their every movement, whilst a lark, hidden from view in the clouds, trilled forth its glad song "thanking the Lord for a life so sweet." The babble of the fairy cascade, the sound of insects humming drowsily, and the bird's song just broke the stillness that otherwise would have been oppressive. All too swiftly the moments flew by, we each knew we must soon be moving onwards, and yet dreaded hearing the pathfinder give the signal. Suddenly, looking at her watch, she started to her feet and exclaimed -

"Oh, it's actually twelve o'clock! How could I let you waste so much time by this silly little pool! You must shoulder knapsacks instantly. Come, wake up, president. Now, secretary, I long to hear the cheerful jangle of the stove again."

With much regret we obeyed her behests. Leaving our lovely resting-place, we were soon marching along the fine country road, and shortly began the actual ascent of the Hind-head.

Two hours' walking brought us to a belt of firs on the road side, in the cool depths of which we lunched, getting water for tea from a well hard by, said to be 200 feet deep. No misadventures occurred, except the usual one of setting fire to the grass by the stove-lamp. As this happened almost every day, we became very expert at extinguishing conflagrations of this sort, and ceased to notice them much, though at first they proved rather exciting.

We were very expeditious over our repast, having already spent too much time on the road; indeed, we were all anxious to start again quickly,  for the scenery through which we were passing became more and more grand, and we longed to be at the top of the hill to see the view which we knew was in store.

"How far is it to the Devil's Punch Bowl?" asked the pathfinder, of a rustic sitting astride a low stone wall.

"Dunno, never yeard tell on't," was the stolid answer.

"What ignorance!" murmured she, and hastened on to ask a woman approaching. This individual seemed to have the very vaguest ideas of distances, but hazarded in reply, "It moight be about three moile." The next pedestrian declared it to be a "good foive moile," whilst still another said even rather than that.

Our guide concluded not to ask any more questions, so we trudged on. The strange parallel valleys causing the road to make a wide detour, possibly accounted for the difference of opinion about the distance. At last we reached the celebrated Punch Bowl. No doubt every one who knows Surrey will be familiar with this spot - one of the finest in that beautiful county. Standing there, half way up the Hind Head, one sees range upon range of bleak rounded hills. Conspicuous among them are the three conical peaks mentioned before as marking the jumps taken by the individual said to own the Punch Bowl. Behind, the ascent is more abrupt and steeper than that of the road by which we have come. At our very feet is the great hollow scooped out in the bosom of the earth, so sudden and unexpected as readily to account  for the superstition which gave its name.

On its brim is a tombstone, erected to the memory of an unknown sailor foully murdered on this spot, and whose tragic end is set forth in a curious inscription. Coiled about the base of the stone lay a viper recently killed, perhaps by some passer-by. This gave the finishing touch to the weird, unnatural character of the scene. Gazing, in a silence unbroken by voice of any living thing, it was with almost a sigh of relief that we heard the sound of sheep-bells tinkling faintly far below us. We then saw  for the first time, dwarfed by distance, but still recognisable, a substantial and most unghostly farmhouse nestling amongst the trees in the very Punch Bowl itself.

With that, all our eerie feelings vanished, and then someone remembered that this place is mentioned by Nicholas Nickleby, he having stopped to rest here when on his way to Portsmouth with poor Smike.

Turning away from the melancholy scene, we were soon at the top of the hill, whence  a wonderfully extensive view is obtained. From thence a picturesque lane, whose high hedges sent forth long trails of honeysuckle, clematis, and rose, led to Haslemere, our goal. We had, for some reason or other, all been filled with intense admiration for Haslemere, never having seen it. Perhaps we rather associated it with the poems of the Laureate who lives there. However, our expectations were high, and, as is nearly always the case when one expects much, we were disappointed.

The pathfinder and myself had gone to reconnoitre, and we read in each other's faces the tale of blighted hopes.

"Oh, pathfinder, we cannot stay here, it's so very tame after what we have come through," I exclaimed.

"It is; painfully so," said my companion; "and see, the sun is not thinking of setting yet, it won't be dark for hours. Do let us go on again."

"But where to? And what will the others say?"

"Oh, if we settle all before they arrive and then just say we are going on to such and such a place, they will take it quite calmly."

Consulting the map, we found the next village to be Fernhurst, which sounded charming to us, and some women standing near told us there was sure to be accommodation there, as there were two inns, which could not both be full. Thus encouraged, we went to meet the others, who, hearing it was only two miles to Fernhurst, were quite satisfied with the arrangements.

It was rather a dismaying discovery to find the "two inns" to be really nothing more than small public-houses, and quite impracticable, but hearing of a larger inn with a farm attached a mile away, we started on again, hopefully. The pathfinder and I feeling responsible in this matter, as we had been the ones to decide on leaving Haslemere, went quickly on, feeling a trifle anxious lest there should not be room at the "Old Ewe's Head." It proved to be indeed the beau ideal of an old-fashioned country inn, standing back from the road, with a little green in front, in the middle of the which was an immense patriarchal elm tree, whose branches, stretching out all round, nearly touched the trees on the other side of the road. Round the great gnarled trunk were seats ranged, on which doubtless, the lords of the creation resident in the neighbourhood would sit, when the day's work was done, smoking their evening pipe, and talking over the affairs of the nation.

The landlady, a buxom and highly good-natured dame, was really distressed to find re required more than one small room, which was all she could offer. This being the melancholy fact, my companion and I were,  for the moment, plunged into a state of abject despair. The only information the landlord could give was that we were nine miles from anywhere. "Ah, yes," he said, "it's a good nine mile afore you'll come anywhere worth mentioning; and a lonely road, too, a very lonely road, it is. Well do I remember when I was a lad going down that road of a morning with the other lads to see the gibbet, and sometimes there'd be as many as three bodies hanging there all at once; just opposite that pond as you'll see, 'bout two mile from here, where the trees meets over your 'ead now, that's where them gibbets used for to stand. Yes, a very lonesome road it is, and no mistake." He continued in this strain for some time; we had gone out to consult him whilst the tea we had thought it prudent to have ready against the others' arrival, was being prepared. Happily, the landlady broke in upon his enlivening information by coming to say the kettle was "just on the boil" and that tea would be ready in a minute.

"What's my old man been telling you about nine miles from nowhere, ladies? I heard him through the window; but never you heed him; he was always such a one to put the worst side upmost. I'll set you on the road as'll bring you to Midhurst under five miles, so you'll get there 'fore it's dark if you go as quick as you was when you come here. And as for them gibbets, he knows as well as I do that they've been all took down and done away with these forty years; so don't you heed him, ladies."

This was reviving, and we felt ready to fall upon her neck and weep for joy, but refrained, and greeted our companions with a sprightly air, refusing to tell them anything till after tea. And what a tea that was! Such new-laid eggs and fresh butter, such cream and new bread, and the giant water-cress, home-made jam, and native honey, combined with all the other good things, made up a repast not soon to be forgotten. And how the eatables vanished! We might not have eaten for a week, to see how quickly the table was cleared. At last we were satisfied, and with many directions from the kind hostess and predictions of evil from her saturnine spouse, we set off on the last stage of that long day's journey.

A lovely walk it was. Through the roadside trees were seen distant hills bathed in the ruddy sunset glow, and the sky, where visible through the green roof overhead, was flecked with amber and crimson and gold. The sunset was a glorious one, but it reminded us that darkness would soon follow, and we must hurry on. And hurry we certainly did , too much so, perhaps, as it soon became evident that we had missed the way among the many short cuts recommended.

After floundering wildly about for a little, we were soon hopelessly lost, so we stopped, to hold a council of war. The pathfinder and I volunteered to scour the country round till we met with either a house or a person to ask. Climbing to the top of a five-barred gate, from whence a very extensive view is obtained, I surveyed the prospect o'er till I discovered - oh joyful spectacle! - a house. The guide and I hastened to it, and our thanks will be for ever due to the lady of that house, who, with the greatest kindness, put us in the right road, by which a mistake would be impossible.

"Putting our best foot foremost," we went along at a good pace, singing "Marching thro' Georgia," and other martial airs, when sure there was no one "around," till at last our long walk was over, and we were peacefully ensconced in our hotel at Midhurst, having come twenty-three miles.

Next morning our rule of early rising was,  for the first time, broken, in fact I fear it was nearly nine o'clock before we gathered round the breakfast-table. We all felt rather stiff, and some of us even a little foot-sore, though our constant practice of bathing the feet in warm water, with a few drops of arnica therein, saved us from much suffering in that way.

After visiting the beautiful ruins of Cowdry, we crossed the park and gained the high road to Petworth. We were rather curious to see this little town, having heard a story of a regiment of soldiers which was ordered there. They marched what seemed to them to be more than the proper distance without apparently getting an nearer to the town; they then made inquiries and learned that they had already passed through the place, without being aware of the fact, and were marching back to London! I think the town must have considerably changed since this extraordinary thing took place.

The inhabitants appeared to think the spectacle of six girls dressed alike, with knapsacks in their hands (we always carried them thus in the towns), a curious and interesting one. We bought our viands, however, in spite of the eyes staring through the shop window at the transaction, and the noble president presented herself and us with a tin can, which the shopman filled with water for us.

Leaving Petworth, we went on only till out of the range of vision of its denizens, and then turning up a lane, we seated ourselves on the grass, and leaning against a gate, with our feet on our knapsacks, we lunched as comfortably as we could have done in our own dining-room. We were just congratulating ourselves on our privacy, too, when a gate at the end of the lane was opened, and a carriage and pair dashed past, its occupants gazing with astonishment at the merry party, and the various component parts of the luncheon that lay scattered around us.

It was always found that we walked better and with more enjoyment after lunch than before, and to-day was no exception. Passing along the pleasant lanes and across the open heaths, singing and telling tales to beguile the way, stiffness and blistered feet might have been things to us unknown, and we could hardly believe our day's walk was done, when we arrived at Pullborough.

As we left the village next morning, we heard a party of villagers speculating about us, and the president's gift evidently supplied them with a clue to our pursuits.

"They'll be painters, I reck'n," said one. "See the can that one is carrying? That's to hold the co'ours, that is."

Our road was said to be the Roman Stone Street. We could well believe it for, as our poet remarked, "it needs a great deal of the iron determination attributed to the Romans to tramp along this straight undeviating road." A bend or turn here or there would have been quite a relief; but no such weak-minded deviation from the severe straightness occurred.

At Billinghurst we were dismayed on visiting the only bread-shop to hear the owner say she had none left; but after a search in the back regions of her establishment she emerged with one very small loaf, all she had, and with that we had to be content. We lunched in a somewhat marshy spot, but the damp had happily no ill effects, being counteracted, perhaps, by our  usual drink of tea each.

The day was very warm, and the president's can proved a great comfort, for we refilled it on every opportunity so as to be able to quench our thirst as we went along. This night, the last of our tour, we spent in a comfortable hotel at Horsham.

Saturday morning broke gloomy and threatening, but as it did not actually rain we determined to start as usual, and it was not till we were beyond the region of railways that the storm began in earnest. It was trying to have to put up with very limited view of the pretty country which is obtainable from beneath an umbrella; but as it was the only wet day we had, we tried to persuade ourselves that it was quite a pleasant variety.

Our pathfinder had spent the previous evening in measuring on her maps and counting up the distances of each day. She now told us that, on our arrival at the starting-place, we should have walked altogether 96 miles, making an average of 16 miles a day, though, as will have been seen, we had generally been either above or below the average.

The treasurer, too, had been busy with her account-book, and it may be of interest to my readers to know exactly what our tour cost. The total expenditure  for the six of us during six days and five nights was £8 4s 6d, which gives £1 7s 5d as to the share of each, or 4s 6d each per day. This included everything, excepting only the president's noble gift of a tin can, value 3d. Our treasurer said that our plan of having "high tea" in the evening instead of dinner was an economical one. And, of course, taking our midday meal in the open air cost much less than having it at a hotel would have done, besides being much more agreeable. We should all have been very sorry to have missed the pleasure and fun of our daily picnics.

As we neared home the clouds broke, and the drops became few and far between.

"Look!" cried the artist, "there is quite a bright gleam of sunshine; we shall reach home under smiling skies after all."

"I believe we shall," said another of the party. "What a time of great enjoyment we have had! Do you know, I can't help thinking of this verse all the time -

Oh, God, oh Good beyond compare,
If thus Thine earthly works are fair,
How glorious will those mansions be
Where Thin elect shall dwell with Thee!"

For a moment or two we were all silent; then the president, looking up, cried - "See, there is our own home in sight. Now for a spurt, so as to come in gaily at last!" And so, with happy faces and thankful hearts, we marched up to the door, feeling, as we received the hearty welcome awaiting us, that we should be richer and better all our lives for the delightful hours spent in our walking tour.

17 July 1880 - 'What Our Girls May Do' by Alice King

You may do anything that is good and proper and useful - except anything that men do, that would be wrong. 

We do not want to say what our girls may not do, because "may not" has a sound of the schoolroom about it which would take away from the pleasant freedom of the little chat we mean to have with our girls today. That our talk together may be more cheery and hearty we will ask our girls to fancy themselves sitting with us around the Christmas fire, with the frosty air outside filled with the glitter of stars and the melody of bells; or wandering through the summer woods, with their hands filled with honeysuckle and yellow pimpernel and musk-scented stork's-bill, with bird and brook making fair harmony hard by.

In the first place, our girls may try to do anything which is useful. They love to play at being useful from the time when they can first toddle, and they may begin to do it in earnest as soon as ever they are able. But how can we be useful, they will ask? They can begin very early to do a deal of good in their families by influencing their younger brothers and sisters, by keeping the rough word off the little boy's lips, by showing the tiny maiden that to be a Christian girl means to be as bright as the flowers, as full of their sweetness that spreads perfume round; is to be as pure as the dewdrop, as blithe as the skylark's song. The little ones are far more free n talk and manner with you than they are with elder people, and so you have opportunities with them which do not belong even to their mothers.

Our girls may also do much in the way of influencing their schoolboy brothers, and instilling into them reverence for womanhood. Girls are too much inclined to look upon it as a merit to give themselves up patiently to be teased by their brothers. Far from this, they should show them that even the sweetest tempered girl has a touch of queenliness about her, which demands a certain degree of careful, tender respect from men, which forbids rude acts and words in her presence. Thus will our lads learn early from their sisters the meaning of chivalry, and every woman whom they shall meet in their life's journey will bless those sisters for what they did long ago.

There is good work at home for our girls in giving a high, right tone of thought and feeling to young female servants. Girls, perhaps, are not aware how much their dress and manners form the dress and manners of the servants' hall and kitchen; and there is no truer saying than that servants grow like their mistresses. They should, therefore, endeavour to show any girls of a lower social rank than their own what is the meaning of modest grace, of Christian womanliness. They should seek to make them feel that they are their friends, and to win their confidence, so that they will tell them all their little troubles and difficulties, and let themselves be helped by the young ladies' superior intelligence and education. They should provide, as far as they can, rational amusements for them; they should send or take them to places of interest, Bible classes, and sewing parties.

A wide and beautiful field of work and influence opens before our girls as we take them to the doors of our Sunday-schools and bid them enter there. Here is a task that angels smile to look upon. Here is a garden in which seeds may be planted that will bring forth flower and fruit - first for man below, then for heaven above. Here are earnest young faces, who will catch their first ray of God's light from their teacher's eyes; and our girls, with their bright looks and pretty winning ways, are so much more able and likely to attract children than graver and older folks; their young fancies will find such congenial exercise in weaving Bible stories into word-pictures  for the little ones to gaze at and learn from; their fresh, brave, living courage will break down barriers of dullness, and make its way into sluggish brains, where other and more jaded teachers would fail. Yes, our girls are the God-appointed teachers of our English Sunday-schools.

This work of Sunday-school teaching may lead on our girls as they grow older, and, if they feel that they have real talent and love  for the business, to yet a broader and higher sphere of influence in keeping adult classes for men and women. What a light and a sweetness come into the daily life of mothers and maidens who are toiling along bearing a heavy burden made up of small pressing household cares and wants, when a sister, from a different station from their own, steps down to walk for a while at their side to cheer them with glance and word of sympathy.

The men, too, when they gather round their lady teacher, what refinement do they draw from mere contact with her gentle voice and manners - refinement that gradually colours their home lives, their intercourse with sweethearts and wives and daughters. How do they gradually learn to yield to her soft but queenly influence, and to be ashamed of coarse vices when they enter her presence. How ready do they grow to listen while she shows them the upward way - to follow her kindly yet steadfast leading. If our girls want work that will call out every noblest most earnest faculty of heart and soul, let them strive to train themselves for work like this.

We have dwelt thus on what our girls may do in different ways in the matter of influence, because in these days, when there is so much said and written about what women may and may not do, we do not think that our young ladies are sufficiently shown the beauty and the importance of what is woman's highest earthly mission - the mission of influence.

Sweet English girls, as you go forward in life never forget or waste this mighty power which lies in your hands, but hold and prize it as a solemn, precious trust from God; and use it so that one day your ears may hear with joy the blessed words, "Well done, good and faithful servants."

With regard to learning language, music, and drawing, we would tell our girls that they may most decidedly do any of these things if they have a talent for them, but that if they have no talent they had just as decidedly better leave them untried. There exists a sort of traditional belief in many respectable English families that all daughters of the house must be taught to play on the piano. We would advise our girls resolutely to strive to break down this notion; for by so doing they will spare the ears of friends and guests a deal of unmerited suffering, and will save for themselves much valuable time, which they can employ in things that they can really do with will and pleasure.

And we would strongly caution our girls against learning too many things at once, as a quick, vivid young female mind is always too apt to try to do; they should recollect  that the concentration of every faculty on one point has been the chief secret of all the greatest and best work that has been done in the world; that we make much more mark in society by doing one thing well than twenty things tolerably.

In these days, when literary work is so readily given to women, our girls may try their hand at composition in prose or verse, if they have a real talent for either; but we would emphasise that *if most strongly. We would caution our girls to be very severe with themselves on this point; for in the matter of authorship, nothing is easier than to fancy, especially if our minds are young and ardent, that our bits of coloured glass are real jewels. The path of literature is often at first an uphill, weary path, even for genius; and we would most earnestly warn our dear girls, as they value their own happiness, unless they are very sure that they have a decided call in a gift given by God for treading it, to pause before they enter upon it.

To go from intellectual work to work with the hands, needlework is a thing which every girl ought to do, and which never ought to be left out of female education. As for fancy work, that may be done by a girl in her hours of amusement if she does not waste too much time over it. In fancy work we do not of course include the beautiful art needlework of the present day, which needs just as much a special talent in those who undertake it as painting or music.

Our girls may do a deal of fair and excellent work for both God and man in visiting the sick and poor and aged. It will bring their sweet young lives into contact with gloom and sadness; but they may go fearlessly into those dark places, since Christian girls will carry with them there a lamp lit at the flame of the "Light of the world." Let them take their Bibles in their hands; let them speak boldly out of the words of eternal life in the homes of want and disease; let them add a few simple drops of sympathy that fall from their warm young hearts; and for those they seek to comfort and for themselves "it shall be well." Work of this sort may also lead them on in after life, if they form no  close ties, and if they have a real gift  for the task, to become sick nurses - a branch of female duty in which women with cultivated minds and soft ladies' hands and delicate ladies' tact are so needed.

If a girl has a liking for cookery she will be putting herself in the way of doing probable good work in her future by attending classes on the subject, and trying little experiments at home. In such interests there is nothing beneath the dignity of a lady; the woman who thinks there is must have more foolish pride in her than good sense. Health, and especially the health of men of sedentary employments, depends in a great measure, on the way in which food is prepared; women should remember that the preservation of health is no mean object. If it is to be a girl's fate to be the mistress of a family, where there is only a  limited income, skill in cookery may prove a real blessing to all around her.

In conclusion, we would say to our girls one earnest warning word about what they may not do. They may not do any of those things which make them imitators of men; they may not try to break down the God-appointed fence which divides their departments in the world's great workshop from the departments of men; by so doing they only lose their own queenliness without gaining a single ray of male royalty in its place. Let our girls aim at being nothing but women - noble, brave, broad-hearted women - active alike with mind and hands; strong, earnest workers for God and man, and theirs shall be a fair and radiant story, that shall grow ever brighter and yet more bright.