"A_ LADY ALONE."
POOR people seldom speak of anyone above them in rank as "an old maid "—unless, indeed, with apology and in excuse for extreme eccentricity. More often they Itnup un- married women and widows together and allude to them all as "lathes alone." In almost every parish there is at least one "lady alone" who is of immense service to her poor neigh- bours, who visits the sick and arranges for convalescents, finds work, and raises pensions and pays rents, and of whom it is generally acknowledged that "it is very nice for her to be able to do it!" It is a singular point of view ; at least if is one that iamly taken in connexion with " ladies alone," and it is not at all confined to poor people, though the idea seems to have originated with them. "I don't know where I should have been last winter but for her," we may hear a cottage-woman say. "I'm sure she did take some trouble! But then, you know, as I always say to ray husband, how nice it is for her to be able to do it—a lady alone—like her !" That the lady in question should be preserved from the agonies of uselessness is a concurrent cause of thankfulness which effectually pre- vents any exaggeration of gratitude or any false shame in the acceptance of favours.
All those who follow good works as a profession make demands upon the "lady alone." They do not ask for dona- tions of time and trouble—you can get them elsewhere— they want subscriptions of time to be given at short, regular intervals, and continued indefinitely. "I thought it would be nice for you to give one or two evenings a week during the winter to the show," says the curate, with studied lightness of touch. No lone woman ever needs to be short of a job. She can always undertake something regular from which her married sisters, as a rule, hide—very legitimately— behind their husbands or "the boys' holidays." For instance, it is very nice for such a one to be honorary secretary to a small institution, or, perhaps, treasurer. The responsibility is, indeed, a serious privilege, and the amount she is likely to be out of pocket not negligible and the correspondence voluminous ; but, then, how lucky she is to have the time and money ! Of course there are plenty of smaller jobs ready to be pressed upon those who make a firm stand against the bigger ones—mothers' meetings, for instance—and for these lack of the requisite experience is never a valid excuse : those who plead it are regarded as depriving themselves of a pleasure through sheer laziness. The last bit of work which we heard suggested to a particularly busy unmarried woman might be considered ecclesiastical rather than secular. Bishops nowadays like that churches, even country churches, should be left or en. They are quite right. Anything which modifies the ridiculous notion that religion is a Sunday affair must do good; and, besides, is any- thing so irritating as to find a notice on a fine Gothic doorway telling you to ask for the keys at some unknown cottage at some unknown distance? In our experience bishops are almost always more right than clergy—in theory at least. The hard part is the carrying-out of their injunctions. Churches stand- ing well outside the village street—as so many do—would offer a convenient harbour for tramps, or the clergy think they would. To "a lady alone living near such a church it was suggested that it would be very nice for her to solve the difficulty of the open church between the parson and his diocesan by "sitting in it"! Sitting in a gloomy, stuffy church alone ! All signs pointed to her for the post. The privilege lay to her hand, so she was assured. Yet she was not a woman of marked devotional habit. She was not of an awe-inspiring presence; tramps would certainly have felt no fear of her. She had plainly not the power to address them for their edification, and she would have made but a poor struggle for those hyron-books marked "Not to be taken away" had any wayfaring person set his heart upon them. In justice to the sense of the married parishioners, it. must be admitted that she who offered the task was also" a lady alone"—a widow living at a good long distance.
In this matter of finding occupation it cannot be denied that single women do prey on each other. "Do you, or do you not, believe that women ought to have the vote P" asks an ardent Suffragette. In spite of all the Spectator's arguments, most women living alone do think they ought to have it—in theory,as a part of the democratic ideal. Why,then, this mistaken believer is asked, does she not take part or lot in the sufferings of her militant sisters P Here is she with money and talent; anyone would imagine she would wish to devote them to the cause. It would be "so nice for her" to do it. In vain she declares she is out of sympathy with its upholders ; in vain, when goaded to desperation, she admits that she thinks they deserve all they get, and more too, for a set of benighted advocates of persecution ; she is regarded not as an opinionated idiot, but as a lazy Laodiceax who sacrifices everything for ease I It is probable that many lone women have accepted widowers with large families in order to get away from offers of "occupation."
Another thing which it is "very nice" for women alone to be able to do is to lend! To lend what P But everything ! Their house, if they have one ; their pony-cart, carriage, or car ; their money, their influence—all that they possess. The reat borrowers are their young relations, and they say, "Jolly for her to have it to give us," and there is no doubt that their mothers echo the feeling. They look upon the single state as one quite compact of unenviable privilege. "Unmarried women always look so young for their age," said the mother of a large family the other day in the hearing of the present writer. "I suppose it is because they have no troubles." Were there any unmar- ried women in Judea, one wonders, when the prophet was watching "the sparks fly upward" ?
Perhaps the most amusing suggestion ever made to fill the infinitely elastic time of "a lady alone" was one which the present writer lately read in a sermon—quite a good sermon, too. The preacher wished that all unmarried women should each adopt an orphan "instead of petting dogs." Thus might the poor-law question be eased. Now we do verily believe that scores of unmarried women who are in good health and not without means would very much like to have an orphan to pet, but the difficulties in the way would be enormous and grotesque. In the first place, mcst of the orphans of the State have mothers—they are really only half-orphaned—who naturally are deeply interested in their welfare, and who, though they would no doubt agree that it was very nice for "a lady alone" to take the expense of their children, would certainly arrive to visit them by every excursion train. The social complications would be alarming, and would create a run upon complete orphans. As soon as these were adopted we might see some experiments in education which might enlighten educationists, perhaps, but probably few of the many systems conceived would be carried out. Few unsupported women could stand against the advice they would receive. Some might, perhaps, retire, each alone with her orphan, into un-get-at-able wilds and firmly refuse to take in her letters from the postman ; but the greater number would be turned from any systematic purpose, and crowds of orphans would go back. Imagine a Philistine brother face to face with a sentimental sister who has just been to the workhouse and fetched home for good and all a small male orphaned tramp! Would her enthusiasm long survive the cold water and the ridicule ? Those who chose girls would havo more chance of success. Boys, however, would be at a premium. There is no doubt that to women—married, single, or widows—little boys are more attractive than little girls.
Seriously, however, time is the last thing that ever hangs heavy on the hands of a woman alone. Seriously, also, no grave injustice is done to them as a class. Of course in their hearts they agree that it is "nice for them" to be able to be of use, only they would like sometimes that it should be left to them to say it.
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