Aside from educational work proper, various forms of social service are carried on,—­district nursing, classes in sanitation and hygiene, social clubs and entertainments for people of all ages, and a department of fireside industries, through which is created an outside market for the beautiful coverlets, blankets and homespun, woven by the mountain women, as well as for their attractive baskets.

When the children trained in our school go out to teach in the district schools, they take with them not only what they have learned in books, but our ideas as to practical living and social service also, each one becoming a center of influence in a new neighborhood.

A feature of the work that deserves special mention is the nursing and hospital department, the ministrations of our trained nurse.  Miss Butler, having done more, possibly, than any other one thing, not only to spread a knowledge of sanitation and preventive hygiene, but also to establish confidential and friendly relations with the people.

The foregoing story, “Sight to the Blind,” gives some idea of this branch of the work, the scope of which has been much extended, however, during the three years since the story was written for The Century Magazine.  In that period the half-dozen clinics held in the school hospital by Dr. Stucky of Lexington, and his co-workers, have brought direct surgical and other relief to the afflicted of four counties.  To be present at one of these clinics is to live Bible days over again, and to see “the lame walk, the deaf hear, the blind receive their sight, and the poor have the good news preached to them.”

And not only this,—­these clinics have demonstrated that nearly one-half the people examined have trachoma or other serious eye diseases, and have been the means of awakening the Government to its responsibility in the matter, so that three government hospitals have already been started in the mountains for the treatment of trachoma.

So valuable, in many directions, has been the influence of the Settlement School, that tracts of land have been offered in a number of other mountain counties for similar schools; but so far only one, that at Pine Mountain in Harlan County, has been begun.

An intimate account of life within the Hindman School is given in a recently published book, “Mothering on Perilous,” in which are set forth the joys—­and some of the shocks—­experienced by the writer in mothering the dozen little mountaineers who, in the early days, shared with her the small boys’ cottage.  The real name of the school creek is of course Troublesome, not Perilous.

Alas, nearly a thousand eager, lovable children are turned away yearly for lack of room and scholarships.  The school is supported by outside contributions, one hundred dollars taking a child through the year.  What better use of money could possibly be made by patriotic persons and organizations than to open the doors of opportunity to these little Sons and Daughters of the Revolution?