Making Plans.

_Holidays_.--This is the time to show if school has done you any good.

At school you are reminded constantly of Prayer, hard work, tidiness, regularity, self-control: you are practised in these things, and the great underlying principles of life are brought before you so that not one of you has any excuse for being careless and unconscientious in the holidays.

Also you are most of you communicants, and you know that it is impossible to be a communicant and to "let yourself go" in these ways.

You have duties in the holidays as well as in school time. It is wrong to spend two months in self-indulgence without any self-discipline. You must open your eyes to your duties,--practising, sensible reading, tidiness, and daily unselfishness.

It may be no one's business to remind you in the holidays, and your mother may let you alone a good deal, from wishing you to have "a good time;" but you alter very considerably during two months, and it is your part to see that you alter for the better.

Two months means two Communions with definite resolves, two definite upward stages in life. If you let yourself go till you get back to the crutches of school, you will have gone two very definite stages downhill.

Some of you are tidy here, but at home your temptation is to plaster some neatly folded garment or sash over the recesses of an untidy drawer, or to use anything that comes to hand, any racquet, or croquet-mallet, or oil-can, or thimble; your own cannot be found--you take the nearest and then leave that also lying about.

Do you think these things do not matter? You would think it mattered very much if you grew up an unreliable, unconscientious woman, and yet, I do not know in what lesson-book you can learn to be thorough and reliable and conscientious, except in the daily lesson-book of these trifles.

You each know that daily practise is a duty, if your mother wishes you to learn music. A daily duty neglected, or a daily duty done, means a very considerable difference in the person by the end of two months.

There are one or two further points in your holiday and grown-up life which I should like to talk about to-day.

_Visits_.--Enrich your life with them, instead of letting them be times when you slip back morally. Take your conscience with you (but do not wear it outside), and be very careful to keep your rules, your prayers, your home standard of right and wrong, your quietness and self-control. Do not "let yourself go," and do silly things for fun. A great many leave their sense of responsibility at home, whereas our visits are part of the regular course of that life for which G.o.d will judge us. And keep your mind open, get new ideas, read the books in the house, instead of taking a store with you.

Next consider your duty in the choice of people you live with. First, there are your relations. You say you cannot choose these; no, but you can choose which side of them you will draw out. Every one is a magnet; some attract the worried, irritable side of other people, some the serene, pleasant side. If you try to see the bright side of things and to agree instead of differing, and if you say nice things about people when they are out of the room, your family circle will show themselves very different from what they might be if you were a magnet for unpleasantness!

Secondly, there are your friends. Do not let one person monopolize you, or you her; do not have friends given to secrets, and do not let any one trap you into a promise not to tell. If her secret is all right, she cannot object to your telling your mother, and if it is silly you had better be clear of it. And do not forget that nice people do not deal in secrets, they keep their family affairs to themselves. It is the Rosa Matildas at "Young Ladies' Academies" who have secrets in a corner.

Thirdly, choose your book friends carefully. You live with people in books, so have a conscience about your choice in this just as much as with living friends. Some books are bad for any one; a great many more would do harm to you, but perhaps not touch an older person. When I was your age, many an argumentative book (which seems thin and empty to me now) might have upset my faith. Many an exciting, pa.s.sionate book (which I now read with a calm and critical mind) would have filled my whole heart and soul!

Be thankful if you are kept under direction about books; but if you are not, use common sense and conscience. Manage yourself sensibly, and since you know that you are in a very mouldable, impressionable stage, it stands to reason that you had better steadily read cla.s.sics now, to form and strengthen your mind.

When a girl reads sentimental and pa.s.sionate poetry, neglecting Scott, Milton, and Wordsworth, I call it the same sort of wrong mismanaging of herself as if she ruined her digestion with a greedy love of pastry.

Poetry and pastry are often the same sort of weak self-indulgence.

I do not say read _no_ novels that are exciting and romantic, or even that are silly, but I do say, sandwich them. Face the fact that a silly or pa.s.sionate novel is likely to have great power over you at this stage, and therefore read very few of them, and read many of Scott, Thackeray, d.i.c.kens, Miss Austen, and Mrs. Gaskell.

Do not read society novels that make you live with flippant, irreverent, or coa.r.s.e people, or those who take sin lightly.

It is not right for a girl to live with people in books who would not be good friends for her in life, and she ought to make a conscience of not doing it, even though there may be no definite bad scenes in the book to shock her.

Books should give you nice ideas. You have got the making of your own mind and character in your own hands, and you are responsible for the books on which you choose to feed yourself, for each one of them alters you for good or bad. Your book list is a very good help to self-examination.

There is a great deal to think about and to settle for yourself when you begin life, but there are three points of goodness binding on every one.

One is, giving time to G.o.d. A girl must stick to her prayers and go to Church on Sunday whether other people do or not. Sunday varies in different households, and I think each girl is bound by her parents'

standard in the matter as long as she lives at home; when she marries she should think the matter over and have her own standard. But the root of Sunday-keeping lies in the fact that she must feed the Sunday side of her or it will die; and she should go to Church, once at least, to show her colours. As to how much she feeds that Sunday side, or when,--that varies with the household, only she should resolve on something and stick to it.

You need not be disobliging, since you can always make time by denying yourself.

Secondly, have a standard in talk. You cannot tell your elders when you think them wrong, but you should not join in, when your contemporaries say what you think wrong. Speak out then, or at least be silent and unresponsive.

Thirdly, do something for other people, some steady kindness which you do not give up just to suit your own convenience.

Now, what plan of life should you have? You must have a plan and resolution, for if you drift you are almost certain to drift _down_ and not up.

Yet you are quite rightly looking forward to a time of freedom. But freedom means being able to command yourself, it does not mean being free to drift without a helm.

Also you will be under control to a certain extent. Very likely you will sometimes resent control or reproof at home more than you would resent it from an outsider! But you are a stage nearer that sad freedom of later life when it is n.o.body's business to look after you, and you have now got to learn how to use wisely that fuller freedom of later life.

I hope you have been learning at school to use the comparative freedom of "being out." I hope that, with both men and girls, you will remember what I tell you here about not being silly and uncontrolled, or loud and boisterous. The actual school rules pa.s.s away, but there is not one of them that is not founded on some principle that I hope you will carry with you and live by.

The books, the music, the pictures in which you are interested here are not mere lessons to be shut up joyfully when you leave! They are the great interests and amus.e.m.e.nts of the friends whom you most value, and it would be very disappointing if you did not use your free time in making opportunities to carry them on better than at school, for you come here mainly to find out what interesting things there are in the world you are going into.

But to go to practical details. Take a girl who wants to be good and dutiful and useful, to be a comfort at home, to keep her brain in good working order, and to enjoy herself: what should she resolve upon if she is to be of use in the world and not drift idly along? She must think it out for herself, and no longer wait for orders. She must put the salt of self-denial and effort into every day, of her own accord, and not feel absolved because her mother has not given any special orders. You are responsible for your own life, and it is horribly easy to slide into a slack, pleasure-seeking life which will eat all the good out of you.

You must not fill the day with rules and employments so that people feel you always engaged, yet, though you must seem disengaged, you must have a real purpose underneath. You must be free to idle about after breakfast while your mother or the visitors are settling the day's employments, and yet you should aim at always having something to show for your morning,

"Something accomplished, something done."

It is more difficult to live an ordinary idle life well than a hard-working one, because it rests entirely with you whether you put any salt into your day, and because it is your duty to do much as other people do, while at the same time, underneath, you must keep to your standard of Right and Wrong.

But, suppose a girl wants to arrange her own individual life on the best possible lines. Had you better make your plan, and begin at once?

There is great danger, if you wait, that your good resolutions will die away, and you will never begin. And yet, when you first leave, you want a little time to feel quite free, and your people like to feel you are quite free to enjoy yourself.

There is a great deal to be said for beginning at once, but I am not sure about it!

If you feel that you will _never_ begin good ways unless you do so at once, then begin! But I am not sure that I should advise you to make your Resolution at once, though I should like you to make your Plan. I should like you to plan your day while you are here, and write it out: you will not do much with Resolutions unless you write them. Plan what time you will get up and go to bed (you should have a conscience about both); settle a plan of your reading,--what books you want to read during the first year, what poetry to learn, what subjects to study. Plan it all out, and then seal it up, and keep it till Christmas comes. Then think over it, and pray over it, before New Year's Day, and then start your definite resolutions with the new year.

But are you to fritter away the time between this and then? No, carry out your ideas of reading sensible books and doing kind things for friends and poor people, and saying your prayers and reading the Bible, and write down every day exactly how much you did. Let your resolution be to keep a record of these months, rather than a resolution to keep to a detailed plan. Keeping a record is self-discipline in itself, it means self-examination every night. If it shows you to be silly and idle and unpersevering, it will make you ashamed of yourself. Also it will give you some idea of how much time you can really count on getting. See how your plan works before you promise G.o.d to keep it, and then you will not make unwise resolutions at the New Year.

In arranging one's life, it is well to take our Lord's three divisions of Duty,--Prayer, Alms, and Fasting,--and see how our life and our plans stand this test.

_Prayer_.--Under this head you would notice whether your daily prayers, and your attendance at the Holy Communion, were regular, and how you kept Sunday.

_Alms_.--What proportion of your money do you give away? You ought to give away one shilling out of every half-sovereign which you spend on yourself; and be sure you spend dress-money on dress, it is not honest to use it on charity, or books, and then to look shabby.

But money is only part of the giving which you owe: 'Such as I have give I unto thee.' What have you got? You have got education. There may be girls like yourself living near you who have less; could you not start some sensible reading together? I remember delightful French and German and Dante readings when we lived in the country,--eight or ten girls used to come regularly, and we all enjoyed it.

Are there no old people you could amuse in some way,--possibly with whist? Or rather lonely people (aunts sometimes), to whom you could write regularly; people like to be remembered, especially by the young! As long as you are young your kindnesses are very much valued, and if you choose to be selfish instead, it is forgiven you, but, as you are in youth so you will be in middle life, therefore be careful. As I heard Mr. Clifford say, "As long as you are young you may be selfish, or vain, or silly, and people love you all the same! But, by the time you are thirty, people will begin to say they will not stand it any longer, and by the time you are forty or fifty you will be left to a lonely life!" So begin a _kind_ life at once, and act towards all around you on the principle 'such as I have I give thee.' Sometimes you can share your money, sometimes your pleasures, sometimes your education. And remember that in the work and kindnesses which you do for others, you must put first and foremost what you do for your mother and father and home people. "_Haus Teuffel, Stra.s.se Engel_" is a bad name. The point of that text about 'Corban, it is a gift,' is, that you must not feel absolved from duties at home, because you do good works outside. Find out some home duty you can do regularly, and stick to it. I dare say your mother may not suggest any to you, because she wants you to have a good time, but think of _her_ pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt; mothers often talk as if they enjoyed being left at home, just to make more room for you. Keep your eyes open, and find out what you can do to make life pleasanter to her. Talk over your plans with her; often mothers do not realize that a girl wants to find duties and kind things to do, and so they only shower pleasures on her which do not satisfy her.

If there seems no special work for you, be on the look-out to do the things that other people do not like doing; that is the sort of person I like better than any other,--the one who feels "somebody must do the tiresome work, why shouldn't I?" Nothing you could do in the future would please me so much as if you lived by that motto; and, if you add to it a determination to make it quite a pleasure to your mother to find fault with you, you will do well!

So much for Prayer, our duty to G.o.d, and for Alms, our duty to our neighbour; how about Fasting, our duty to ourself?

What is the good of fasting? Is it simply that we should be uncomfortable?

No, the point of fasting is self-discipline and training. This is your duty to self: not to get comfort or amus.e.m.e.nt or success in the world, but, so to train, to drill, to feed and strengthen yourself, that you may be a good soldier for G.o.d.

Such questions as the proper amount of Rest and Amus.e.m.e.nt and Exercise all come under this head, for we ought to aim at just as much as will make us good soldiers, not to try for as much as we can get.

We must manage ourselves; we must keep our bodies in good order, and keep our brains keen and bright. Self-denial in sleep and food and drink are part of this management.