John Luther made a fairly good lawyer. He married the daughter of one of his professors at Königsberg University; served as a soldier in the German army; settled down, and died at Königsberg, in the year 1576, at the age of fifty. His name is chiefly remembered as the "dear Johnny" and "son John" of his great father's letters, and of the happy home circle in the cloister-house at Wittenberg. He left neither name nor deed to make his memory a word in the mouths of men; yet we cannot but feel that, as the son of Luther, he must have been proud of the great father whom he remembered only with love and reverence, and, let us hope, rejoiced to see the regard the world paid to the masterful ways of the great Reformer and leader, whose gifts the son did not inherit, and whose name he but feebly upheld.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
The last Pudding Stick was especially designed for young people who wish to write for the papers. This one is also to be about writing, but in rather a different line. I hope none of you will be offended if I urge upon you the importance of learning to spell. It always gives me a little quiver of pain—something like the sudden start of a nerve in a tooth which is sensitive—when I read a letter from one of my girls, and find that she uses two "l's" where she should use one, or one "t" where two are required. I think it is easier for some than for others to spell correctly. Spelling is largely a matter dependent on attention. You may not know it, but your eyes are always teaching you how to spell, and, unconsciously, as you read interesting books or the daily paper, you see how words are spelled, and learn to spell correctly yourself. There is no excuse for any girl who has both sight and hearing to blunder in her spelling, when Helen Keller, who can neither see nor hear, spells without ever making a mistake. Helen writes a beautiful legible hand, and uses a type-writer to perfection, and yet she has never had the advantages which most of us possess, having been blind and deaf ever since her babyhood. The thing is to pay close attention if you desire to be a good speller.
Very much more than we fancy we are dependent for our style of speech in writing and conversation on the authors we read. Here, too, we need to be attentive. No bright American girl can afford not to read a few pages of some good author every day of her life. Mere story-books are not sufficient. Keep on hand a book which is a serious undertaking, and plod straight through it. I have made this a rule all my life, and I advise you to do the same.
Those who have had the good fortune to be early taught another language besides your own, and who understand French or German, should keep on hand a book in one of those languages, and read a chapter or two every day. If I could I would like to persuade you of the importance of doing something along the line of a study or an accomplishment every single day. Even a few minutes regularly devoted will tell in time to advantage. The president of one of our great New England colleges used to say to the students, "Nothing can stand before the day's works." People who set apart a little while every morning or every afternoon for a definite purpose, and then never allow themselves to lose that time, making it up if they are interrupted by extra effort on the next day, soon surpass the brilliant people who are capable of great exertions now and then, but never do anything patiently day by day. I wish, too, that I could say to you as strongly as I feel, "love your work." "The labor we delight in physics pain." It seems to me a dreadful thing to go to one's work with the spirit of a slave. We should always put into our work our best thoughts, our best hope, and the motive of true love. No matter what the work, the way we go about it gives it worth and dignity, or makes it petty and mean.
Another caution is, do not talk very much about what you are doing. Nothing is so weak as vanity. Somewhere in the world there is always somebody doing such work as ours quite as well as we can do it, and we have no right to inflict upon our friends the story of our personal endeavors or failures. It is well to omit from our daily conversation as much as possible references to ourselves and to what we are engaged upon. I want my girls to become interesting women, and the woman who is really interesting thinks and talks of others more than of herself.
It is a good plan, in order to fix on your mind what you read and wish to remember, to keep a commonplace book. Here you may copy poems which please you, dates of striking events, bits of description, and entertaining anecdotes. One girl friend of mine succeeded thus in making a very beautiful compilation, which was afterwards published, and which gave great pleasure to her friends.