"And what do you call drudgery, my dear?"
Marion did not know exactly how to answer the question, but after a little consideration she said,—
"I call any work drudgery where you have to go on doing the same things over and over without any variety or interest."
"Then all work which is not interesting is drudgery?"
"Yes, to me it is. Some people seem to like it well enough. I call it drudgery to wash dishes and bake and sew and learn lessons that one does not care for."
"And, in short, to do any work which is not immediately entertaining or amusing," said Doctor Campbell, finishing the list as Marion paused.
"Then I am sure you would never learn music in the world, Marion," said Lizzy, "because more than half of that is real drudgery. You ought to see the pages of five-finger exercises Mr. Dundas gives me. But now, Dr. Campbell, what work do you call drudgery?"
"I don't call any work drudgery," said the doctor. "It is a bit of cant to which I have a special objection. So long as there is no one task which any one is called on to perform that may not be hallowed by a good intention, and done for the sake of One who has done all for us, there is no task which should be disgraced by the name of drudgery. What you say about your music applies to all the work in the world. More than half—yes, more than two thirds—of it is utterly uninteresting in itself. It must be made first a matter of duty and obedience, and then you may make it a labour of love in the way I hinted at."
"I should not think it would be so in your work, Doctor Campbell," said Lizzy.
"In ours quite as much as in any other, Lizzy. Seen from the outside, the life of a foreign missionary has an aspect of romance about it. Seen from within, it has as little of romance as any other calling whatever. To say nothing of the trials of sickness and danger and homesickness—the last not the least—a foreign missionary comes in contact with more sordid, disgusting details than any other worker, unless it may be a work-house doctor or a clergyman in a low city district. There come up constantly things which are unspeakably disgusting both in a moral and physical point of view, but which nobody knows but the missionary, simply because they are too bad to be told. Then come the misunderstandings with fellow-workers and with friends at home; and, in short, the missionary's life is like any other: in order to do hard work, you must work hard," concluded the doctor, smiling.