The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII: No. 353, October 2, 1886

As a child I have lain sobbing on my bed, beaten down by a very anguish of humiliation at being unable to commit the column of double syllables to memory, and have only been comforted by Aunt Agatha's patience and gentleness.

At school I had a severer ordeal. For a long time my teachers refused to admit my incapacity; they preferred attributing it to idleness, stubbornness, and want of attention; even Aunt Agatha was puzzled by it, for I was a quick child in other things, could draw very well for my age, and could accomplish wonders in needlework, was a fair scholar in history and geography, soon acquired a good French accent, and did some of my lessons most creditably.

But the construction of words baffle me to this day. I should be unwilling to write the simplest letter without a dictionary lying snugly near my hand. I have learned to look my misfortune in the face, and to bear it with tolerable grace. With my acquaintances it is a standing joke, with my nearest and dearest friends it is merely an opportunity for kindly service and offers to write from my dictation, but when I was growing into womanhood it was a bitter and most shameful trial to me, one secretly lamented with hot tears and with a most grievous sense of humiliation.

"No," Aunt Agatha repeated, in the old pitying voice I knew so well, "you cannot be even a nursery governess, Merle."

"Nor a companion either," I exclaimed bitterly. "Old ladies want letters written for them."

"That is very true," she replied, shaking her head.

"I could be a nurse in a hospital—in fact, that is what I should like, but the training could not be afforded, it would be a pound a week, Aunt Agatha, and there would be my uniform and other expenses, and I should not get the smallest salary for at least two or three years."

"I am afraid we must not think of that, Merle," and then I relapsed into silence from sheer sadness of heart. I had always so longed to be trained in a hospital, and then I could nurse wounded soldiers or little children. I always loved little children.

But this idea must be given up, and yet it would not have mattered in a hospital if I had spelt "all-right" with one "l." I am quite sure my bandages would have been considered perfect, and that would have been more to the point.

(To be continued.)

THE AMATEUR CHURCH ORGANIST

By the Hon. VICTORIA GROSVENOR

We believe that young people generally have a desire to be useful. Sometimes not an actually formulated desire, but a vague intention which they mean some day shall have a practical issue, when and how they do not quite know, or in what way. It is proposed in this article to point out one means of eminent usefulness—i.e., that of amateur organ playing in our churches. It is scarcely necessary to show what a large field of good useful work is open to amateurs in this direction. We all know that on the one hand parishes wholly agricultural—the other suburban parishes in large towns—are utterly unable to pay for the services of a professional player; while there is nothing so calculated to lift up the heart of the congregations such as these are likely to obtain, as good music. Would it not therefore be a pleasant duty for anyone gifted with musical talent and leisure to qualify in the best manner possible for this ennobling and helpful occupation?

The intending organ-player must ascertain that he or she has a gift for music, and this need not be of the highest order, as even a small portion of the gift can be improved with care, and fostered into usefulness. A first rate ear can be a snare to those who trust to it too much—although it is undoubtedly the best of servants, if kept in its proper sphere of work. A very ordinary measure of talent, supplemented by calm and good sense, clear power of thought, and determined perseverance, will be a good foundation to start with. Good sense and attention have more to do with the good music of ordinary persons (as opposed, we mean, to remarkably clever ones) than people are apt to think. It was said of Mendelssohn that music was the accident of his being; and there are many of whom the same could be said, with this meaning—i.e., that the powers which make them succeed in music would enable them to succeed in other great things if attempted.

We will therefore suppose the case of a young lady possessing a moderate gift for music, desiring to improve it and herself, and to take up organ playing with a view to real usefulness. She should first find out whether her playing on the piano is perfectly correct, taking the easiest possible music to exercise herself upon, and trying whether her musical ear is competent to be her teacher in the matter of correctness. If neither steady attention nor ear enable her to discover mistakes, she had better consider that music is not the talent God has given her to use to His glory. A musical ear may, however, be much improved by its possessor. With even the smallest of voices she should join a choir or madrigal society and learn to sing at sight. She should, when listening to a musical performance, try to guess its key. She should endeavour to know, without seeing, the sound and name of single notes on the piano, practising herself with her eyes shut. It is good practice, also, to take an easy chant or hymn tune, hitherto unknown, and try to get some idea of its melody and harmony without playing it. When all this is done, one of the most important tasks remains: that of mastering time in all its branches. Slovenliness in this particular is fatal to all music, above all to that for the organ, which is meant to guide and control. A feeling for rhythm and a quick-sighted accurate knowledge of time, may be much improved by playing with others, either duets on the piano, or accompaniments to voice or instrument. The player should compel herself to account for the time reason of every passage slowly, until she is able to do so with rapidity and precision at sight. At this point it may be well to begin lessons on the organ, taking great pains to become familiar with the technical part of the instrument, the names of stops and meaning of these names, mechanism and its use. Then will come the careful practice of pedals, which are at first so absolutely bewildering that amateurs are filled with despair at the apparent impossibilities they are asked to face with hope.

Into the teacher's work it is not our province to go; but we would ask the learner to be armed with courage and perseverance, and to practise patiently. Success is more than likely.

We now proceed with advice to one possessed of some knowledge of organ-playing and some acquaintance with its technical capabilities. First, we should say—Play on all available instruments, as no two are alike, and the stops are called by many different names, which must be identified quickly as emergencies arise. Then acquire a knowledge of harmony, specially useful in accompanying church music with dignity, and enabling the player to fill in chords which the vocal score (or voice parts) have left thin and ineffective. Volumes might be written on accompaniments; but on this subject we would advise amateurs to consult heart, head, and common sense, and we would recommend them to read Dr. Bridge's "Organ Accompaniment," one of Novello's music primers, which will open out to them many possibilities, on the use of which they must decide for themselves according to their technical ability and the effect they aim at. It may be they can only try to pull a few weak voices through the singing allotted to them—in which case a strong, steady accompaniment of the simplest description is the best.

One word on voluntaries. These should be chosen with great care and the deepest respect for the church and the instrument, and kept well within the powers of the player. Amateurs do not as a rule obtain much control of their nerves, and the greatest help in the world is given by the knowledge that there is not a "difficult bit" coming. Voluntary books are not quite to be trusted, as their selection often contains operatic music very unfit for organ or church; but they generally contain some pieces of a sacred and dignified character, which may be useful. It is also dangerous for the inexperienced to plunge into easy arrangements of unknown music, taking perhaps wrong views of the time, and sometimes making the more experienced listener smile, if nothing worse, at the curious rendering of some well-known air, jumbled up with its obbligato accompaniment, the existence of which was entirely unknown to the poor player. Every organist should possess a metronome, and carefully ascertain with it the correct time of any music intended for use in public.

Finally, if every small action is to be done to the glory of God, how much more the playing in His church! Let none take this noble work in hand without a desire to give, in its degree, the best work that can be given in absolute self-renunciation, humility, and reverence.

EVERY GIRL A BUSINESS WOMAN

A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO THE WORLD OF INDUSTRY AND THRIFT

By JAMES MASON

PART I

Every girl who is guided by common sense will aim at becoming a business woman. That is to say, she will try to cultivate habits of order, industry, perseverance, method, and punctuality, and will do her best to learn how to conduct formal correspondence, how to keep accounts, how to manage money, and what to do with savings. Besides this, she will make a point of knowing something about the laws relating to domestic life—the renting of houses and the employment of servants, for example—and she will push her inquiries in every direction, so as to acquire not only the right way of doing things, but the right way of forming a judgment upon them.

A wise girl will thus greatly increase her usefulness in the world. She will be able to take part in the affairs of life with pleasure to herself and without being a trouble and hindrance to her neighbours.

Another advantage may be pointed out. There are always people trying to get the better of those who know nothing, and their victims more often than not are ladies. It is easy to fall a prey to rogues and sharpers if one is ignorant of business, especially when nature has made women kind-hearted and experience has not rendered them suspicious. As a protection, there is nothing like being a business woman.

Perhaps someone may say that "business woman" has a hard sound, and stands for a character precise, selfish, and uninteresting. That is not what we intend by it at all. Is a girl to be less loveable, less gentle, less charming, whenever we cease to say of her, That girl, in regard to all the ways of business, is a perfect simpleton? On the contrary, business is a fine training-school for many virtues; and of all good women, a good business woman may be reckoned the very best.

Our articles are intended to be of use to two classes of girls. The first consists of those who either have or are likely to have a little money of their own, and need to know how to manage it and how to regulate those affairs which money always brings in its train. By ignorance of business many a useful life of this class as been marred.

The second is made up of girls who have to earn their own living and make their own way in the world. These have a special need to know something about business. People as a rule are valuable in proportion to their knowledge—those who know nothing being simply worth nothing.

One great reason for the work of girls and women being poorly paid, is that few know anything about either the principles or the practice of the most ordinary business affairs. We shall try in these articles to put girls in future on a better footing, and to make them in business equal, at any rate, to any average men. In this way there is a good chance of doubling their usefulness and value, and of more than doubling their independence.

Nothing is done all at once, and in business, as in everything else, if you mean to build high you must begin low. A girl who wishes to be a business woman must start with accumulating the same sort of knowledge as an office-boy. We shall therefore try to deal with the subject simply and from the very beginning. You may sometimes be tempted to say, "Oh, we knew that before," but another girl may not have been so fortunate, and her ignorance must be taken as our reason for pointing out what appears to be familiar facts.

We begin with the subject of business letters, and the first thing we shall say about them is—Be very particular about their appearance. There is a proverb, to be sure, warning us that appearances are deceitful, but that proverb is only true occasionally; in general we may safely draw an inference as to the writer from the look of her letter. An ill-folded, clumsy, up-and-down-hill, blotted, greasy-looking letter almost certainly comes from an untidy house and a stupid girl, whereas a neat, carefully-written epistle suggests just as surely the opposite.

In friendly letters our correspondents know something about us beforehand, but in business we may be writing to perfect strangers, who can only judge of us by the figure we cut on a sheet of note-paper. To secure prompt attention and a polite reply, no plan works so well as putting good taste into the appearance of letters. They are really a part of ourselves, and a girl should as soon think of sending them marked with carelessness to either a friend or a stranger as of going to make a call in a patched frock, a faded hat, and gloves with holes.

An indispensable point in a business letter is to have the meaning quite clear. It must say exactly what the writer intends, leaving nothing to be guessed at.

And after clearness the next point is shortness. A brief letter makes far more impression than a long one, besides which it usually gets attended to at once. We have known a man open a lady's letter on a matter of business, and, seeing it a long rigmarole, put it at once in his pocket and let it lie there forgotten for a week.

That long letters receive most notice is a mistake into which girls fall very often, but she who aspires to be a real business woman must give herself to the study of such short epistles as that of the officer who sent in as his official report, "Sir,—I have the honour to inform you that I have just shot a man who came to kill me.—Your obedient servant, –."

All letters should be headed with the address from which they were written, the day of the month, and the year; in this way:—

2, Ireland Avenue,

Stratford-on-Avon, 9th October, 1886

It is an irritating peculiarity with many people unaccustomed to business to be careless on this point. Common sense suggests that they should mend their ways, and by putting the date and a full address on every letter, save their correspondents sometimes a good deal of trouble.

There is a short way, occasionally employed, of writing the date; for example, 4 / 7 / 86; meaning the 4th day of the 7th month (July, that is) of 1886. This contraction—which is improved by having the month put in Roman figures (as, 4 / vii. / 86)—is handy now and again, but it does not strike one as looking particularly well at the head of a letter.

Put the name of the person to whom the letter is written at the beginning or the end. Long ago, when envelopes were not in use, this did not matter so much, because the name of the person addressed could be seen by turning to the postal direction; but nowadays the envelope bearing the address is dropped into the waste-paper basket, and a second address is required to give the letter completeness, and enable third parties, perhaps, to understand it.

As to how to begin, whether "Sir" or "Madam," or "Dear Sir" or "Dear Madam," everyone may please herself, only taking note that the "Dear" should be omitted when any special reason exists for being distant and formal. Not, however, that the word when used in a business letter has anything of an affectionate meaning. It is just one of the drops of oil used to keep the machinery of human intercourse working smoothly. Perhaps it originally crept in to soften the sharp effect of "Sir," which sounds for all the world as if it would snap a correspondent's head off.

"Dear Sir" and "Dear Sirs" are both right, but "Dear Gentlemen" is not, though there seems no reason against it. If you begin "Sir" you must not end "I remain, dear sir." The beginning and the end should be all of a piece, and in both places the same form of address should be used.

In concluding a business letter you may say "yours respectfully," or "your obedient servant," or "yours truly," or "yours faithfully," according to the degree of intimacy existing between you and your correspondent. But really there are no very nice distinctions to be observed between such phrases, and their use may safely be left to every girl's common sense and discretion.

Take pains to sign your name always so that people can read it. Some, out of pure affectation, conceal what they call themselves under a scribble which none can read—"a hopeless puzzle of intemperate scratches." How is a stranger, getting a letter signed in this way, to know to whom to send a reply, unless, as is sometimes done, he cuts out the signature, pastes it on the envelope, and adds the address? But illegible signatures, it must be confessed, are more often a man's folly than a woman's.

Always, too, sign your name the same way: get into the habit of it. Don't let it be to-day "Mary G. Snodham," and to-morrow "Mary Snodham," and the day after "M. G. Snodham." If character comes out anywhere in writing, it is in the signature, and it ought to be every day the same, the same in words, the same in writing, and the same in flourishes—that is to say, if there are any flourishes.

When you send a Post Office order to anyone, however, you may make an exception to this rule. It is a good plan to sign a letter accompanying such an order with initials only. When this is done, should the letter fall into the hands of dishonest people, the chances are considerably reduced of their knowing the name of the sender so as to get payment of the order. In getting the money for a Post Office order it is always necessary, as perhaps you know, to tell at the post-office who sent it.

When you (we shall call you Elizabeth Fisher) are asked to write a letter in the name of another person (call her Janet Constable), how should you sign it? Not, certainly, by just writing Janet Constable; that would be highly improper. To put another person's name to any letter or document whatever, even in fun, is not even to be dreamt about. You must sign—

Yours truly,