And lady-loves for spidery lace
And broideries and supple grace.
“And diamonds and the whole sweet round
Of littles that large life compound,
And love for God and God’s bare truth,
And loves for Magdalen and Ruth.”
“We are all living in a kindergarten for the blind,” said a prominent divine at Mr. Anagnos’ beautiful institution in Boston. “Having eyes, perhaps we do not see that best and highest life of the divine which awaits us just beyond our ken.”
The French gown and gorgeous hat which we envy, or at best admire, may cover a nature full of courage and healing for our secret woes, if we were not so blind we could not see; and in our turn we might supply some stimulus which she lacks. And the woman in the ill-fitting, home-made gown in the corner might, possibly, bring positive blessing to both of us and others. We each have something for the other. Have we given our share?
“Why don’t you bring some of your fine gowns up here with you?” asked the country relatives of a rich woman. “We like to see them even if our meeting-house and rag-carpeted sitting-rooms don’t seem just the place for them.” A great many women feel the same way. They like to see pretty clothes, even if they cannot wear them. So let us not worry over this matter of dress. It will right itself. If the woman who is apt to overdress—to whom dress is the main object in life—comes into contact with higher-minded women, she will soon absorb a higher ideal and come to feel that there are greater purposes than are covered by the Paris fashion plates, and worthier subjects of contemplation and discussion than whether to ruffle or not to ruffle the skirt. And do these not need such help just as much as those that dwell in low places and perhaps long ago learned to combine high thinking with plain living?
Oh, sisters, we none of us realize one another’s needs. How do we know that she whom we have been envying as possessing everything heart could wish, is not the most miserable of women? How do we know that the quiet, insignificant woman in sparrow-like raiment has not exactly the help which we are silently craving? Let us come out of our shells and see. Let us make of life something more than a series of good times, when we have gone forth arrayed in gorgeous attire and in search of amusement only. Have we been of those who shirk duty by leaving it to those who like to work, while we have acted as sponges to soak up the waters of gladness set running by the untiring efforts of others?