st her teacher asked her if she had ever seen a
quart measure, to which she replied doubtfully that she was not quite
sure. A few years hence she is certain to be what is called a "friendly
visitor." I have no question about her friendliness, and the poor will
bless her sweet face, especially when she gives them money freely, as
she can easily do, but I should not expect her to be able to give them
very useful advice about spending money--which they need still more. It
must not be supposed, however, that I scorn the kind of work she can do.
There is something better to be done for the poor than to teach them
economy--even a wise economy--it is to rouse their higher nature. I
should think that no one could be an hour with this young girl without
having some aspiration to be noble.

A beautiful and graceful woman has a unique work to do for the poor. It
is on the same principle that the Princess of Wales can give pleasure by
simply distributing the flowers in a hospital with her own hands. It is
possible for beauty to condescend without wounding. A woman who is not
outwardly attractive must do a different kind of work. The first brings
a poetic element into a dreary life, and may even in this way arouse the
aspiration for an unattainable ideal. But a plain and awkward woman may
be the inspiration of a still higher ideal by the radiance of her
goodness.

When girls ask me, as they often do, _what_ they shall do for others, I
find it impossible to answer. Their talents and their opportunities must
decide the particular form of work. But its real value will depend
entirely on what they are. I can only say that there is so much work to
be done that each must do all she can; that she must choose the thing
she can do best and persevere with that quietly, not trying to do many
kinds of work at once; that all she does must be done with love; and
that above all things she must not forget that her own circle of family
and friends shows plainly the centre from which God wishes her to begin
to work.

To the women who live in the country the circle widens naturally and
beautifully. If a neighbor is ill, one sends in delicacies to the
invalid, another offers to take care of the children, and a third acts
as watcher. When a drunkard reduces his family to destitution, one
neighbor sends a breakfast to them, another flannel for the baby,
another finds work for the oldest girl, and another pays the boys a
trifle for bringing wood and wa