themselves, so easily carried off by vogue, it became almost a matter for self-complacency, “not to be able to hold a needle” was accepted as an indication of something superior in attainments.  And it must be owned that there were certain antiquated methods of teaching the art which made it quite excusable to “hate needlework.”  One “went through so much to learn so little”; and the results depending so often upon help from others to bring them to any conclusion, there was no sense of personal achievement in a work accomplished.  Others planned, cut out and prepared the work, and the child came in as an unwilling and imperfect sewing machine merely to put in the stitches.  The sense of mastery over material was not developed, yet that is the only way in which a child’s attainment of skill can be linked on to the future.  What cannot be done without help always at hand drops out of life, and likewise that which calls for no application of mind.

To reach independence in the practical arts of life is an aim that will awaken interests and keep up efforts, and teachers have only a right to be satisfied when their pupils can do without them.  This is not the finishing point of a course of teaching, it is a whole system, beginning in the first steps and continuing progressively to the end.  It entails upon teachers much labour, much thought, and the sacrifice of showy results.  The first look of finish depends more upon the help of the teacher than upon the efforts of children.  Their results must be waited for, and they will in the early years have a humbler, more rough-hewn look than those in which expert help has been given.  But the educational advantages are not to be compared.

A four years’ course, two hours per week, gives a thorough grounding in plain needlework, and girls are then capable of beginning dressmaking, in they can reach a very reasonable proficiency when they leave school.  Whether they turn this to practical account in their own homes, or make use of it in Clothing Societies and Needlework Guilds for the poor, the knowledge is of real value.  If fortune deals hardly with them, and they are thrown on their own resources later in life, it is evident that to make their own clothes is a form of independence for which they will be very thankful.  Another branch of needlework that ought to form part of every Catholic girl’s education is that of work for the Church in which there is room for every capacity, from the hemming of the humblest lavabo towel to priceless works of art embroidered by queens for the popes and bishops of their time.

“First aid,” and a few practical principles of nursing, can sometimes be profitably taught in school, if time is made for a few lessons, perhaps during one term.  The difficulty of finding time even adds to the educational value, since the conditions of life outside do not admit of uniform intervals between two bells.  Enough can be taught to make girls able to take their share helpfully in cases of illness in their homes, and it is a branch of usefulness in which a few sensible notions go a long way.