“She will do him good and not evil all the days of his life.”  It would distinctly do him evil if she did his work for him!  This is a great temptation of capable people; it is so much easier to do a thing yourself than to see others bungling over it; but remember, that not to do other people’s duties is as much a duty as it is to do your own.  Unselfish people are often selfish in the harm they do husbands, and brothers, and sisters, and unconscionable friends, by doing their duties for them.  You recognize that you yourself are on a downward path when you leave duties undone.  You have no right to help any one else to tread that path.  It is much pleasanter to spoil your brothers than to make them take their fair share of family burdens; it is much pleasanter to be popular,—­but if your brother grows up selfish, three-fourths of the sin will be on your head.  You will have to be very careful to convince him that you are not selfish by sacrificing yourself on every occasion when it is not bad for him, but if you are to do him good and not evil all the days of his life, you must remember that you are your brother’s keeper in this matter.

“She worketh willingly with her hands.”  The idea is going out that, to be like a lady, you must sit with your hands before you.  I heard of a village tea the other day where a curate’s maid-of-all-work was boasting that her mistress was a real lady who could not do a thing!  “Dear! how strange,” said an old servant; “my first mistress taught me, with her own hands, all the house-work I know.”  “Ah! she couldn’t have been a real lady,” said the other.  “Perhaps not,” said the old woman reflectively; “I can’t tell, but I know she was an Earl’s daughter.”  If you knew anything of Colonial life in old uncivilized days, you would know how invariably it turned out that those settlers were nobody at home who talked there about what they were “accustomed to,” and how they could not do this or that,—­while the real ladies laughed and buckled to.  I do not believe in a woman being thoroughbred if she cannot do what comes to her to do; she may have little bodily strength, but if she is of the right sort, spirit carries her through, just as you often find uneducated people, unnerved by pain or fright, crying and pitying themselves:  a real lady has nerve for it all, though she is ten times more sensitive, and, till the occasion arises, she may lie on the sofa all day, and believe herself quite unable to do a thing!

People sometimes seem to think it the mark of a sensitive, high-bred, refined nature to be unable to conquer fads, and fancies, and fears.  You hear them say, with an air of modest pride, “I can’t eat this or that;” “I can’t touch spiders:”  very likely they suffer if they do, and I do not see that they need be always forcing themselves to do it, but they should feel the power to do it if need be; if you are not master of yourself, there is bad blood about you somewhere; noblesse oblige applies preeminently to such things.