Hoaky is broughtHome with hallowin'Boys with plumb cake,The cart followin'.—From Poore Robin, 1676.
IN one of the fine old Homes of England, the tapestry lining the Withdrawing Room represents a scene which must have been very familiar to the ladies whose diligent fingers accomplished this large piece of handiwork. It is a "Harvest Home" of more than a hundred years ago; and as the light from the huge logs burning on the hearth flickers on the figures it almost seems as if the gayly decorated horses are drawing on the cart laden with sheaves, as if the girl enthroned on the top of the corn is waving the small sheaf she holds overhead, and as if the harvesters are really dancingaround; that in another moment the lad riding the leader must sound his pipe, and the old man following the dancers make a merry tune come out of his fiddle-strings. The Harvest is over, and the "last neck" is being carried home in triumph, held on high by the Queen of the Harvest, until it can be deposited in the centre of the supper-table in the big farmhouse kitchen.
This tapestry hangs in a house in Cornwall, a county in which, from its remote southerly position, many traditions have lingered. Among such traditions those connected with the harvest are probably some of the most ancient; handed down from generation to generation from the days when the Romans first brought civilization to England and left their stamp on the harvest as well as on the language, laws, numerals and the roads of this county.
Until the beginning of this century, Ceres was the name given as a matter of course to the queen of the harvest; and in Bedfordshire two figures made of straw were formerly carried in the harvest procession, which the laborers called Jack and Jill, but which were supposed to represent Apollo, theSun God, and the beneficent Ceres, to whom the Romans made their offerings before reaping began.
The merry queen of the harvest, worked in the tapestry, had no doubt been chosen after the usual Cornish fashion. The women reaped in Cornwall, while the men bound, and whoever reaped the last lock of corn was proclaimed queen. As all were ambitious of this honor, the women used to hide away an unreaped lock under a sheaf, and when all the field seemed cut they would run off to their hidden treasures, in hopes of being the lucky last. When a girl's sweetheart came into the field at the end of the day, he would try to take her sickle away to finish her work. If this was allowed, it was a sign that she also consented to the wedding taking place before the next harvest.
The last lock of corn being cut, it was bound with straw at the neck, just under the ears, and carried to the highest part of the field, where one of the men swung it round over his head, crying in a stentorian voice, "I have it, I have it, I have it!" And the next man answered, "What hav-ee, what hav-ee, what hav-ee?" Then the first man shoutedagain, "A neck, a neck, a neck, hurrah!" This was the signal for the queen to mount the "hoaky cart," as it was called, and the procession started for the farmhouse.
Over the borders in Devonshire, the custom of "crying the neck" varied a little. The men did the reaping and the women the binding. As the evening closed in, the oldest man present collected a bunch of the finest ears of corn and, plaiting them together, placed himself in the middle of a circle of reapers and binders. Then he stooped and held it near the ground, while all the men took off their hats and held them also near the ground, and as they rose slowly they sung in a prolonged harmonious tone, "A neck, a neck, a neck!" until their hats were high over their heads. This was repeated three times; after which the words changed to "We have-'en, we have-'en, we have-'en!" sung to the same monotonous cadence. The crying of the neck, as it echoed from field to field, and from hill to hill, on a fine evening, produced a beautiful effect, and might be heard at a great distance.
A musical cry of this sort was also common in Norfolk, Suffolk and Gloucestershire; but the words sung were "Hallo, largess!" One of the men was chosen lord of the evening and appointed to approach any lookers-on with respect, and ask a largess, or money, which was afterwards spent in drink. Meanwhile the other men stood round with their hooks pointed to the sky, singing:
Music
Hallo! Largess!
In Gloucestershire, Ceres rode the leader of the Hoaky Cart, dressed in white, with a yellow ribbon round her waist.
The last in-gathering of the crop,Is loaded and they climb the top;And then huzza with all their force,While Ceres mounts the foremost horse."Gee-up," the rustic goddess cries,And shouts more long and loud arise,The swagging cart, with motion slow,Reels careless on, and off they go.
Stevenson in hisTwelve Moneths, date 1661,goes on to describe the arrival of the procession at the farmhouse:
The frumenty pot welcomes home the harvest cart, and the garland of flowers crowns the Captain of the reapers. The battle of the field is now stoutly fought. The pipe and tabor are now briskly set to work, and the lad and lass will have no lead on their heels. O! 'tis the merry time when honest neighbours make good cheer, and God is glorified in His blessings on the earth.
The frumenty pot welcomes home the harvest cart, and the garland of flowers crowns the Captain of the reapers. The battle of the field is now stoutly fought. The pipe and tabor are now briskly set to work, and the lad and lass will have no lead on their heels. O! 'tis the merry time when honest neighbours make good cheer, and God is glorified in His blessings on the earth.
In Herefordshire "crying the neck" is called "crying the maze;" the maze being a knot of ears of corn tied together, and the reapers stood at some distance, and threw their sickles at it. The man who succeeded in cutting the knot won a prize and was made Harvest King for that year. In the same county there was a rough custom of the last load being driven home by the farmer himself at a furious rate, while the laborers chased the wagon with bowls of water which they tried to throw over it. In the more stately processions the horses that drew the Hoaky cart were draped with white, which Herrick, the Devonshire parson-poet, describes in his poem of Hesperides, 1646:
Come, sons of summer, by whose toilWe are the lords of wine and oil;By whose tough labours and rough handsWe rip up first, then reap our lands.Crowned with the ears of corn now comeAnd to the pipe ring Harvest Home.Come forth, my lord, and see the cartDressed up with all the country art.See here a maukin, there a sheetAs spotless pure as it is sweet;The horses, mares, and frisking fillies(Clad all in linen, white as lilies:)The harvest swains and wenches boundFor joy to see the hock-cart crown'd.About the cart hear how the routOf rural younglings raise the shout;Pressing before, some coming after—Those with a shout, and these with laughter.Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearthGlittering with fire, where for your mirthYou shall see, first, the large and chiefFoundation of your feast, fat beef;With upper stories, mutton, veal,And bacon (which makes full the meal;)With sev'ral dishes standing by,And here a custard, there a pie,And here all tempting frumenty.
The harvest supper in Northumberland was called the "Kern Supper," from a large figure dressed and crowned with flowers, holding a sickle and sheaf, which was named the "Kern Baby," and, being carried by the harvesters on a high pole with singing and shouting, was placed in the centre of the supper table, like the Devonshire and Cornish Neck. Rich cream was served on bread at the Kern Supper, instead of meal; a custom which was reversed in a sister northern county, where the new meal was thought more of than cream, and the feast was called the "Neck Supper," in its honor.
There was one more quaint ceremony for the laborers to accomplish, after the feasting was over, connected with the completion of the rick or stack. This was formed in the shape of a house with a sloping roof, and as the man placed the last sheaf in the point of the gable he shouted, "He's in, he's in, he's in!" The laborers below in the stackyard, then sang out, "What's in?" and the rickmaker answered with a long harmonious sound, "The cro' sheaf," meaning the cross sheaf.
It has been thought that there used to be one universal harvest song used throughout England, but the words and music are not preserved as such. Some curious songs are performed by the laborers, where harvest suppers are kept up. A very popular one has a chorus ending with:
And neither Kings, Lords, nor DukesCan do without the husbandman.
The majority are drinking songs, and there is reason to fear that the ale and cider that flowed at harvest-time, conduced in no small degree towards the unbounded revelry of these old celebrations.
At the same time the country people of England in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were for the most part very simple and ignorant, and their childish exuberance of spirits may have been but the natural expression of life in a perfectly unartificial state. They were men and women who could live for the hour while the sun shone, who could laugh and dance like children who have no fear, and, as George Eliot says, who "cared not for inquiring into the senses of things, being satisfied with the things themselves."
But the change was coming. The old women of Cornwall lamented loudly when their sickles were taken away, and the corn was "round-hewed" by the men with a kind of rounded saw.
"There was nothing about it in the Bible," they said; "it was allreapingthere."
The round-hewing was but a step, to be speedily followed by the scythe, and then by the steam reaper. And it often happens that the steam engines do not leave the field until the corn is carried to a temporary rick in the corner and threshed on the spot.
Farewell to the Hoaky Cart, the crowns of flowers, the Kern Baby, and the Cro' Sheaf!
With the puffing snort, the whirr and smoke of the engine, came the downfall of the ancient ceremonies. If the corn is threshed in the field and carried away in sacks, there is no time for the triumph of Ceres, or the decking of "Necks."
The laborers are no longer "satisfied with the things themselves." They are keen for the shilling they will earn for overhour work, and in some counties prefer it to the gathering of master andmen round the harvest board; and the drink makes them envious instead of merry.
Times are hard. The great iron rakes clear the fields and there are some farmers who no longer say with Boaz:
Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not, and let fall also some of the handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them, and rebuke her not.
Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not, and let fall also some of the handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them, and rebuke her not.
It seems as though the old happy gleaning days were also numbered. Those days to which the villagers look forward from one year's end to another! The hour at which gleaning may begin is made known in some parishes by the church bell tolling at eight o'clock, after which the children troop off with their mothers to the wide fields. The sun may shine with fierce August fervor, the children's arms and the mothers' backs be weary to breaking, and the corn gathered be only enough for two half-peck loaves—yet there are charms in the long days in the fields, in the strawberries picked in the hedge, and the potato pasties eaten under the rick, and when the church bell tollsagain at nine o'clock there are still many lingerers in the fields.
The world is growing grave and old, and it is sad to think that many of the simple old-fashioned enjoyments of past years are fading away. Still there is another side to the inevitable law of change; for out of the relics of the worship of Ceres, out of the ashes of the ancient customs of revelry, a phœnix has arisen, grand and hope-inspiring, and that carries back our memories to days before the Romans were conquerors of the world, and when the most ancient of all nations, the Jews, used to celebrate their yearly feast of Ingathering.
When first Harvest Festivals in Churches were proposed they were looked on with suspicion, for somewhat similar services had been swept away by the iron hand of the Reformation. But thankful hearts and good common-sense have worn out the suspicion, and the day comes now in each year, when every Church in England is decked with sheaves of corn, grapes, torch lilies, dahlias, sunflowers, and all the splendors of autumn, and when glorious Te Deums, and hearty Harvest Hymnsrise in thanksgiving for the blessings on the fields.
Once more the ancient cry of "Largess" is, as it were, revived. But now it is largess for the poor, beloved by God, it is largess for the suffering ones, who watch in pain, it is largess for home and foreign missions, that all may be safely gathered in to the great final Harvest.
It is also customary for a Festival to be held in the Cathedrals of the principal county towns. And there are few nobler sights than to see the Nave of one of these magnificent old buildings, on a market day, so full of men and women of every position in life, that they are sitting on the bases of the pillars, and standing in the aisles; and there are few nobler sounds than to hear that mighty congregation burst into singing:
Come, ye thankful people, come!Raise the song of Harvest Home!
AT no time is there more to be seen and done in Jerusalem than during the Easter season.
Then it is that the old city is crowded with pilgrims from far and near and wears, in consequence, an appearance of varied life and activity. Some of the pilgrims are Moslems returning from their journey to Mecca; others are Jews who have come to see that the massive stones of the old temple are being duly wailed over by their brethren; but by far the greater number are adherents of the Eastern Church.
Their purpose in making the pilgrimage is to anoint themselves with the fire which, according to their belief, is sent down from heaven each year at Easter-time to light the candles on the altar in the tomb of our Saviour in the Church ofthe Holy Sepulchre. Can they but ignite their little bundles of wax tapers by the holy flame and with it bathe their faces and breasts they believe that all their sin-stains are purged away. The great crowds of devotees become so wrought up with excitement over this divine manifestation that it is safer for those who would witness the ceremony to go to the church under consular protection.
Accordingly we assembled, about eleven o'clock on the morning of one Easter Sunday, at the American Consulate and from thence proceeded, with a number of fellow-countrymen, to the Church under the guidance of thecawass, or consular servant, whose heavy staff of office—a veritable drum-major's bâton—inspired respect on the part of the natives and opened a way for us through the dense crowds.
Arriving at the Church we were led to one of the galleries which run around the building in three tiers. The main portion of the structure is circular in form, and in the centre of the rotunda is a small chapel which, according to the traditionof the Greek Church, guards within its walls the Sepulchre of our Lord. The entrance to this little building is so lowly that one has almost to crawl on hands and knees to gain admittance; and when once inside there is only a shabby altar worn down by the lips of countless thousands of pilgrims, and shabbier candles which make the atmosphere most disagreeable.
From our vantage-point in the gallery we looked down upon a curious scene. Men, women and children armed with little bundles of tapers covered every foot of the spacious floor, save an aisle which a double line of some two hundred Turkish soldiers kept open around the Holy Sepulchre as best they could. The officers of the guard had difficult work in preserving order. Serious outbreaks were of frequent occurrence among the excited people which could only be quelled by a vigorous application of the officers' rawhides to the backs of the ringleaders, and, in some instances, a gentle prod from a soldier's bayonet was necessary to remind the individual that he was forgetting his good behavior.
The space between the inner line of soldiery and the Sepulchre seemed to constitute a sort of prison-pen, for here were thrust the most turbulent spirits. In a short time an assortment of these leading rascals was thus gathered together and, as might have been expected, they soon began to make things lively among themselves; the result being a vivid representation of pandemonium. In fact, rough-and-tumble fights were now the order of exercises, for all were endeavoring to elbow their way to a position nearer the chapel that they might be the first to secure the coveted fire. Such was the conduct of the adherents to the Greek Faith in their holiest sanctuary and at their holiest ceremony!
After waiting for nearly three hours, surveying the hubbub below us which had been, if possible, increasing, we noticed an unusual stir; and soon from one of the ante-rooms issued a procession made up of priests bearing large banners of various hues, and numerous surpliced boys swinging silver censers of incense, while in the centre of this company walked the Patriarch of the church clad inrobes of heavy silk and satin richly embroidered with gold and silver thread as befitted the dignity of the High Father.
Three times this band moved round the Sepulchre while the crowds were awed to silence by the magnificent spectacle. After the procession passed out the pent-up excitement of the people broke out with renewed energy and those in the rear redoubled their efforts to gain a front place, for this pageant of priests seemed to herald the advent of the fire.
Soon two of the priests approached apertures in opposite walls of the Chapel and through these received from the Patriarch, who had meanwhile entered the Sepulchre alone, the heaven-sent flame. As the priests drew forth handfuls of tapers ignited by the holy fire, the agitation of the multitude knew no bounds. The great surging crowd seemed frenzied in their eagerness to light their own tapers. The women and children in the throng were entirely ignored and, as the stronger pushed them aside, more than one went down and were trampled under feet. But graduallynow the divine flame was passed from one to another, those in the galleries letting down their tapers to be lighted until the whole church was soon ablaze.
Strife and wrangling speedily gave way now to smiling good-nature, and all were anointing their faces and breasts with the holy fire. The dark recesses of the old building, which the sunlight could never penetrate through the dingy dome, were lighted up with the flickering glow of the little candles which, with the constant darting to and fro at the flames, like so many will-o'-the-wisps, made up a weird picture never to be forgotten. Soon, however, the smoke and heat rendered the atmosphere intolerable and we were glad to elbow our way out through the now happy throng to the open air.
Such is the ceremony gone through with each year at Jerusalem. Many of the people try to carry the fire away with them that they may keep a candle which has been lighted with it continually burning, as it is reputed to possess wonderful restorative properties both for body and soul.
I ONCE attended an interesting Indian fête in the Southwest at the Moqui (Moki) village in Northern Arizona. It was the strangest spectacle altogether I ever looked upon, and was performed by Indians who are perhaps the least civilized of any in the great Western Territory. No words can fully describe the dance that was given. It was a wild, weird sight and made one with delicate nerves uncomfortable, to say the least. To the Moquis, however, the spectacle was the reverse of unpleasant. An Indian never indulges in noisy approval, but he enjoys laughing as much as a white man does; and in this particular dance the performers were constantly encouraged by their friends.
The Moquis are a people whose origin datesfar back. How long ago their present village was built no one can tell. That it is very old is evident from the fact that in 1540 it looked exactly the same to Coronado as it does to us to-day. He could not discover from the Indians living there how long their town had been founded, and as the people have no written history we can only speculate upon the age of their houses. There are seven villages altogether and all of them are built upon the very tops of highmesas, or table-lands, rising fully six hundred feet above the level of a wide valley. Themesasare rarely more than forty feet wide and are so steep that to gain the summit one has to climb a narrow footpath that has been hewn in the rocky sides. The houses are of stone, cemented with mud, and are piled together one on top of the other.
The tribe is given a Reservation by the Government to live on nearly as large as the State of Massachusetts, and on which they have perfect freedom. They raise sheep and goats, and live and dress nearly as they did centuries ago, and have but little intercourse with white people.
An hour before sunset the Indians, robed in their very best, moved toward the town of Walpi that occupies the western end of themesa. Following the crowd my friend C—— and I reached an open square formed by the walls of the houses on one side and the edge of themesaon the other. In the centre of the place stood a tall, tower-like stone fifteen or twenty feet high and of a fantastic shape. It was here that the dance was to be held. Every housetop having a view of the spot was covered with Indians, and children had grouped themselves on the ladders that lead from roof to roof. Making our way to a good place we sat down with a party of the natives and waited for the fête to begin. Far below where we were, lay the valley we had crossed, and in the distance were the mountains of Utah and Central Arizona. It did not require much imagination to believe ourselves standing on some high cliff overlooking the ocean, for the valley was like the sea, and the feeding sheep like little boats.
This Moqui snake-dance is given once in every two years. Nearly one hundred Indians takepart in it and the custom has been observed for many centuries. It is commonly supposed that the ceremony is a prayer for rain, but why snakes are used no one surely knows. The reptiles are caught during the four days preceding the dance and are confined in theestufasor council chambers until the hour comes when they are to be used. Most of the snakes are "rattlers." Their fangs are not removed and the only precaution the Indians take against being bitten is to paint their bodies with a preparation that counteracts the effects of the poison. At the conclusion of the dance the snakes are carried down to the valley and allowed to go where they will, while the dancers return to theestufasand wash off the paint that has covered their bodies.
Directly beneath where we stood was a bower made of cotton-wood branches. Soon after we were seated an Indian brought three large bags and placed them within the bower. These contained the snakes. The man had barely got out of sight before a party of fifteen Indians filed rapidly into the square. All were naked exceptfor short, reddish tunics reaching from the waist to the knees, and their bodies and faces were thickly painted in various hues. Each man carried a rattle, made by stretching a piece of dried skin over a squash gourd, and a basket of sacred meal, and several wore strings of antelope hoofs around their ankles. Marching four times around the stone pillar, and shaking their rattles all the while, the dancers stamped upon the ground as they passed the snake bower and sprinkled meal upon it. After that they formed a long line and began the rather monotonous dance and song which is given in the same manner by nearly every tribe. The song consists of a few words repeated in a sing-song fashion over and over again, and in the dance the bodies are swayed slowly back and forth and the feet alternately lifted a few inches from the ground.
While this dance was being given a second party, dressed as those who had first appeared, and numbering fifty-seven men, marched into view and began their walk around the stone. These were the snake-dancers, and their comingwas hailed with great joy by the assembled spectators. Instead of rattles were carried little wands made of eagle feathers which were moved rapidly through the air in imitation of the hissing of serpents. The men looked wild and sober, as though frightened at the prospect before them, and their faces were blackened and painted beyond all recognition. During the march around the stone pillar a party of maidens, each one wearing a bright red shawl and having her face thickly powdered, grouped themselves near the dancers and stood ready to sprinkle them with the meal which they carried in baskets.
Finishing the march both parties formed into two parallel lines near the bower of cotton-wood boughs and indulged in a grand song and dance which appeared to carry not only the performers but the dancers to the highest pitch of excitement. At its conclusion an old man stepped before the snakes and chanted a prayer, which he had barely finished before there was an unruly rush made for the bower. Reaching their hands into the place each man quickly reappeared with a hissing,squirming, biting snake, which he immediately placed between his teeth while beginning once more his walk around the open square. In time fully forty men had each his snake, and the scene became intensely hideous. At the side of each dancer walked an attendant who tickled the snake's head with his wand of eagle feathers, but in spite of this soothing caress the serpents made savage attempts to bite and get away. One man had his cheek severely bitten and another his hand, while often a snake would coil its body around the neck of its tormentor so that it would have to be unwound by main force. We were glad to be as high above the dancers as we were, for at times a snake would escape and go darting off among the spectators, to their great confusion. The girls who were throwing sacred meal upon the men were often so frightened that they made frantic rushes to get away, but when the snake had been caught, they returned again to their places. For fully half an hour the strange dance was continued, the men holding the snakes growing more excited every moment, and the membersof the first party that had appeared giving new life to their song, which was continued without interruption all the while.
At last, perspiring, bitten, excited until their eyes gleamed, the men threw the snakes together into a common pile in the centre of the square, where they formed a hideous mound of squirming forms. Then at a signal, a second scramble took place, and in a moment the pile had disappeared and every dancer held in his hands a reptile with which he ran swiftly down the trail and out into the valley, madly leaping down the narrow path, and later hurrying over the valley, dropping as they ran, the snakes they carried.
By this time the sun had set. Waiting only long enough to watch the men come slowly back to theirestufas, we left our housetop and were soon riding slowly away. For another two years the snakes in the vicinity of the Moqui village will go unmolested along their way. At the end of that time some of them probably will figure again in the dance which some strange decree has ordered.
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One cannot read it without feeling the brotherhood of a soul that has suffered, and has learned through suffering that there is but one great thing for men to do in this world, and that is to do right.—Literary News.
LORD'S DAY RESCUED (The).ByAlexander Sessions, with Introduction by Henry M. Dexter, D. D. 16mo, cloth, 60 cents.
MEN OF MARK; or, Heroes of Church History. ByWilliam Marshall, D. D. 12mo, $1.25.
NOT OF MAN, BUT OF GOD.The last work ofRev. J. M. Manning, D. D., late pastor of the Old South Congregational Church. 12mo, cloth, $1.25.
Will charm the minds and win the hearts of all.
PERFECT MAN (The); or, Jesus an Example of Godly Life. ByRev. Harry Jones. $1.00.
PRAYER MEETING AND ITS IMPROVEMENT (The).ByRev. Lewis O. Thompson. 16mo, $1.25.
An admirable pastoral help, full of the wisest counsel. It should be in the hands of every minister in whose parish dull prayer meetings are spreading dry rot.
The book will be a real help to pastor and people.—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
Classified List.—Birthday.BIRTHDAY.
ARNOLD BIRTHDAY BOOK.With many original Poems. Cloth, gilt, $1.00; seal, ..50.
The editors are the two daughters of the poet, who have gone over the various works of their father with a judicious, as well as a loving hand, and have added a collection of gems worthy of the publisher's setting.—Interior, Chicago.
LITTLE FOLKS' BIRTHDAY BOOK.Arranged byAmanda B. Harris. Twelve full-page illustrations in color, and pictures for every day. Square 18mo, cloth, tinted edges, $1.00.
With each rhyme is a childish picture, some of them being very clever, the whole bound in a very artistic cover, and one calculated to amuse and please children.—Churchman.
POETS' BIRTHDAY BOOK (The).Arranged byAmanda B. Harris, with original poems for each month by Longfellow, Whittier, Will Carleton and others. Twenty-four full-page illustrations, square 18mo, cloth, tinted edges, $1.00; seal, ..50.
You cannot select anything prettier for a gift book.—Herald of Truth.
SCRIPTURE BIRTHDAY BOOK.18mo, illustrated, cloth, $1.00; seal, ..50.
SHAKESPEARE BIRTHDAY BOOK.With portrait and twelve illustrations. 18mo, cloth, $1.00; seal, ..50.
This exquisite little birthday book cannot help meeting with immediate and universal favor.—B. B. Bulletin.
WEDDING DAY BOOK.Edited byKatherine Lee Bates, with original illustrations by George F. Barnes. Small quarto, extra cloth, bevelled, gilt edges, $1.25.
BOOKS FOR GIRLS.
HOLD UP YOUR HEADS, GIRLS!ByAnnie H. Ryder. $1.00.
One of the brightest, breeziest books for girls ever written; as sweet and wholesome as the breath of clover on a clear June morning, and as full of life and inspiration as a trumpet call. The writer, a popular teacher, speaks of what she knows, and has put her own magnetism into these little plain, sensible, earnest talks, and the girls will read them and be thrilled by them as by a personal presence.
A NEW DEPARTURE FOR GIRLS.ByMargaret Sidney. 75 cents.
In this bright little story, we see what may be really done in the way of self-support by young women of sturdy independence and courage, with no false pride to deter them from taking up the homely work which they are capable of doing. It will give an incentive to many a baffled, discouraged girl who has failed from trying to work in the old ruts.