The Girl and Her Reading

1902

By W. D. Howells

What, then, is a good rule for a girl in her reading? Pleasure in it, as I have already said; pleasure, first, last and all the time. But as one star differs from another, so the pleasures differ. With the high natures they will be fine, and with the low natures they will be coarse. It is idle to commend a fine pleasure to the low natures, for to these it will be a disgust, as surely as a coarse pleasure to the high. But without pleasure in a thing read it will not nourish, or even fill, the mind; it will be worse provender than the husks which the swine did eat, and which the prodigal found so unpalatable.

Thence follows a conclusion that I am not going to blink. It may be asked, then, if we are to purvey a coarse literary pleasure to the low natures, seeing that they have no relish for a fine one. I should say yes, so long as it is not a vicious one. But here I should distinguish, and say farther that I think there is no special merit in reading as an occupation, or even as a pastime. I should very much doubt whether a low nature would get any good of its pleasure in reading; and without going back to the old question whether women should be taught the alphabet, I should feel sure that some girls could be better employed in cooking, sewing, knitting, rowing, fishing, playing basket ball or ping-pong than in reading the kind of books they like; just as some men could be better employed in the toils and sports that befit their sex.

I am aware that this is not quite continuing to answer the question as to what girls should read; and I will revert to that for a moment without relinquishing my position that the cult of reading is largely a superstition, more or less baleful. The common notion is that books are the right sort of reading for girls, who are allowed also the modified form of books which we know as magazines, but are not expected to read newspapers. This notion is so prevalent and so penetrant that I detected it in my own moral and mental substance, the other day, when I saw a pretty and prettily dressed girl in the elevated train, reading a daily newspaper quite as if she were a man. It gave me a little shock which I was promptly ashamed of for when I considered, I realized that she was possibly employed as usefully and nobly as if she were reading a book, certainly the sort of book she might have chosen. — Harper's Bazar.

Why Married Men Live Long

1916

The reason a married man lives longer than a single man is because the single man leads a selfish existence. A married man can double his pleasures. Any time he has a streak of good luck it tickles him all over, but it makes him feel twice as good when he tells his wife about it. And she is so pleased and proud that he feels like a two-year-old. There isn't a chance in the world of a man's arteries hardening or his heart weakening when he can get a million dollars' worth of pleasure out of making his wife happy. — Cincinnati Enquirer.


Too Thorough

"Why don't you try to make your constituents understand problems of government?"
"That's what I have done," replied Senator Sorghum. "I have been too thorough about it. A lot of them now think that they can give advice instead of taking it." — Washington Star.

—Stevens Point Daily Journal, Stevens Point, Wisconsin, July 29, 1916, page 3.

Your Conscience Is Your Compass

1920

UNCOMMON SENSE
By John Blake

Your Conscience Is Your Compass

There are few men who do not know instinctively right from wrong. In their course through life their consciences are their compasses.

And those compasses are always in a convenient place, ready to be consulted. The thief knows he is a thief, although he may try to justify his thievery. The idler knows he is an idler, and is secretly ashamed of it, although he may find a hundred excuses for being idle. The man who succeeds is the man who uses the compass that nature has placed within him to direct his course and to warn him when he is going wrong.

He cultivates the habit of steering by compass. And he allows nothing to distract his attention.

Two lines that were greatly admired by Doctor Johnson are worth engraving on your mind. They are:

"Though pleased to see the dolphins play I mind my compass and my way."

Learn those two lines and their lesson, and you will be saved many idle and useless wanderings from your course as you navigate the difficult waters of life.

The love of pleasure is strong in man, and should of course be indulged to some extent. But to indulge it to the exclusion of the important business of making the port you are bound for is mere stupidity.

Be thankful for the "silent voice" that will give you your real position if you ask for it Be glad that the most useful information you can obtain is always at hand when you want it — the information as to where you ought to be bound.

Ships set forth through fog and storm, sure that while the compass holds true their course will be right, and they will reach the destination they desire to reach.

You too, by choosing your destination, can reach it, perhaps after delay due to storms or tides, but surely, if though you may occasionally watch the dolphins, your chief attention is upon your compass and your way.

—The Evening State Journal and Lincoln Daily News, Lincoln, Nebraska, February 25, 1920, page 6.

Japanese Man "Farming" Oysters for Crop of Pearls

1912

RAISING PEARLS ON "FARM"

Japanese Has Decided He Can Produce Them on Land Laid Out in Ocean's Bed

Mr. Mikinoto's oyster farm in the Bay of Ago, off the coast of Japan. is one of the few successful attempts at the deliberate production of pearls. Mikinoto spent several years in costly experiments before he perfected his scheme.

Then he secured government patents and, according to Popular Mechanics, has succeeded in getting his "farm" on a paying basis. He first makes a bed for his crop in the shallows of the bay, where the larvae of the pearl oyster abound during the months of July and August.

He merely deposits a large number of small stones, to which the oyster spat naturally attach themselves. Then his diving women transplant the young oysters to deeper waters to protect them from the cold.

Here they lie on carefully prepared beds until in their third year they become full grown, and have firmly attached themselves to the stones by means of "necks" which they secrete.

At this time the diving women bring the mollusks to the surface and they undergo an operation. A small seed pearl is introduced into the center of the shell. Then the oysters are replanted in the bed and left alone for four years.

When they are again brought to the surface it is found that the seed pearl nucleus has been covered with many layers of the nacre, a secretion of the mollusk, and the large, brilliant translucent pearl of commerce has been formed.

But the process is not as simple as it appears. During the seven years that the farmer must wait for his crop to mature a large percentage of the oysters die. The oyster beds are raided by such enemies as the octopus and the starfish.

Occasionally the "red current" sweeps over them and in a day destroys the entire crop. At all times the farmer must keep his oyster bed free of "miruno," a seaweed which will smother the crop.

Women divers trained from girlhood to long immersions in the Sea are engaged at 20 cents a day to care for the farm. In this work they wear nothing but a head cloth, a white shirt and diving goggles. At each dive they can gather several oysters and return to the surface.

A dive occupies about one minute, and a day's work is from four to six hours. An expert can readily gather 500 oysters a day in a depth of water ranging from two to six fathoms. To keep at the work for a day they must frequently come up and warm themselves at a fire.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 8.


Love of Books

Book love, my friends, is your pass to the greatest, the purest and the most perfect pleasure that God has prepared for his creatures. It lasts when all other pleasures fade. It will support you when all other recreations are gone. It will last you until your death. It will make your hours pleasant to you as long as you live. — Anthony Trollope.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 6.