Talks to Girls by Mrs. J. Ellington M'Gee

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · May 23, 1907

Talks to Girls

By Mrs. J. Ellington M'Gee

I WANT to tell you of a conversation I overheard on the street-car the other day. I was standing directly in front of three bright-faced girls who were telling each other something of their home life. One of them said:—

“Mama never cooks a meal at our house. It has been so long since she did any cooking that she has forgotten how.”

“How funny!” replied the other girl, with much silent wonder expressed in her eyes. “Is she an invalid?”

“An invalid! Well, I guess not!” replied the friend. “We don’t want mama to cook. Sister and I take charge of everything. At first we did not do very well, and mama protested, but now we are quite proficient.”

“That is really funny. I do not lay my hand to a thing in the house. Grandma does all the cooking, and mama does the housework. It would never be done if I had to do it.”

By this time it had begun raining, and the girl who never did a thing at home continued her chatter by saying:—

“Dear me! It is raining! Mama told me to take an umbrella, but she tells me so many things I don’t pay attention to half of them. I wonder if she will have sense enough to meet me at the car with an umbrella. If she doesn’t, I shall ruin this new hat.”

“You may have my umbrella,” said the other girl, who had already excited my admiration. “I wore my old clothes to-day, and it wouldn’t hurt them if they do get wet.”

You can readily see that very small things indicate character, and I am sure that you will not be surprised when I tell you that the girl so thoughtless of her mother did not attract me, nor will she attract any one. And there is just a little secret here. A girl can not be selfish and thoughtless at home and make herself really lovable to the outside circle of friends, for the real character will reveal itself. It can not be hidden.

Unselfishness and sacrifice in the home for mother, brother, or sister, is a great beautifier, more potent than all the concoctions sold by druggists at exorbitant prices.

I believe that many girls forget mother, not because they are inherently selfish, but because they are thoughtless; but if this thoughtlessness continues, and dear mother’s face ages, and the heavy lines come into her brow, while the girl frolics night and day, the thoughtlessness becomes a sin.

I have a young friend who is now seventeen. She is a stout, healthy girl. Her mother is never well, but still, with you, no help, she looks after a nine-room house.

When vacation came, this young girl said to me: “Mama says I must learn to work this vacation. I learned how to make a bed to-day.”

The first time this buxom girl of seventeen had made a bed! Do you wonder the overworked mother was never well?

I will tell you of two other girls I know. These girls have lived in affluence, but when their father died, they found there was no money left. They began at once to fit themselves for self-support. One secured a fine position as stenographer, while the other, a very fragile girl, secured a position as kindergarten teacher. These two girls were determined that their mother, now past sixty, should be spared all possible hardship. They therefore arose earlier in the morning, donned their big aprons, and attended to the necessary housework before going out to office and school.

I am so glad there are so many noble, self-sacrificing girls. I have in mind another young woman, a school-teacher, commanding a salary that would enable her to board away from home if she chose, but after her mother’s death, she took charge of the home for her father and brother.

At first she had a woman to superintend the housework, but she found her so wasteful that she decided to undertake it herself, and now she has everything systematically arranged, and the home is always in order. This girl is in charge of the mission study classes of a large city district, and also holds office in the Young People’s Society of her church. I don’t believe she has any time to be selfish.

The girl who appears at church dressed like a fashion-plate, while her mother is shabbily dressed, advertises herself as plainly as though she wrote in large letters: “I do not care for anybody but myself.”

I hope that all girls will build on the broad plan of noble living, because they will be happier, their loved ones will be happier, and their living will make the world better and brighter. It is true, as Phillips Brooks has said, “No man or woman of the humblest sort can really be strong, gentle, pure, loving, and good, without the whole world being better for it; without somebody being helped and comforted by the very existence of that goodness.”—Mrs. J. Ellington M’Gee.