TWO WOMEN.*

THE memoirs of two women have lately been published; so unlike, that a comparison between them may seem out of place, and yet both so distinguished for force of character and purity of motive, for strength of intellect and devoutness of soul, that there is no incongruity in considering them together, and seeking to draw out, even sometimes by force of contrast, the lessons to be learned from each.

Mary Carpenter, the steadfast friend of destitute and neglected children, and Dorothy Wyndlow Pattison, the devoted nurse and attendant of the sick, died within a year or two of each other. Mary Carpenter was, however, by twenty-five years the elder of the two, and much of her work was done after the age at which "Sister Dora" died. This must be borne in mind in thinking of their lives, and in noting the softening touches, and the sense of fulfilled purpose, which age gave to the one, and which naturally never came to the other. Up to the time of the development of the fatal malady which ended her days at the age of forty-six, Sister Dora was still a very beautiful and attractive woman, endowed with almost superhuman strength, and with an energy and enthusiasm that were quite irresistible. She was the daughter of a clergyman residing in the North Riding of Yorkshire, and was a being of splendid natural gifts and a full consciousness of power, so that it is not surprising that she found the sphere and the

*The Life and Work of Mary Carpenter. London: Macmillan and Co. 1879.

Sister Dora; a Biography. London: C. Kegan Paul & Co. 1880.

activities of a country parsonage, where there were several elder sisters, too narrow for her, and early desired to transfer her energies to a wider field. After the death of her mother, to the care of whom she had devoted herself, she became restless and dissatisfied with home life, and at length, much against her father's wishes, though not without his consent, she undertook the charge of a village school at Little Woolston, on the borders of Buckinghamshire.

Perhaps it was expected that a little experience would cure her of her folly, for no attempt was made to soften the disadvantages incident to her task; she worked hard and lived in a very simple manner, only being recognised as a thorough lady because she was one but she persevered for two years and more, and gave up at last in consequence of a severe illness. Something of her tact in the management of children, perhaps of human nature generally, was probably learned in her work as a village schoolmistress. The determination with which she chose it in the face of opposition was characteristic in a high degree. Her next step showed still more wilfulness; and it was followed by Nemesis in a remarkable manner. She chose, against the wishes and judgment of all her best friends, to become a member of a sisterhood at Coatham, taking the name of Sister Dora, by which she will always be known. Here her proud will, that would not yield to the judgment of those who loved her best, was systematically thwarted and opposed; she was actually forbidden to visit her father in what proved to be his last illness, and she was fretted by her self-imposed fetters for many years. But though her way of entering upon it was unsuited to her character, it cannot be said that she made a mistake of like kind in choosing nursing for her vocation. Her labours among the rough people of Walsall, where she took charge of a Cottage Hospital, called out all

the finest parts of her nature, if we except the development of the purely intellectual faculties, and they are scarcely to be mentioned in comparison with the powers of influence and command, with the love, patience, and self-sacrifice, and marvellous skill in healing, which there found abundant scope.

Before going further into Dorothy Pattison's career, let us turn to Mary Carpenter and the time of preparation for hers. She too, had early aspirations after a life of special devotion to the good of others, and by the time she was six-and-twenty her two great objects-neglected children in England, and the unenlightened inhabitants of British India- had been distinctly brought before her mind, although in what way she was to serve them she little knew.

But she was the eldest, instead of the youngest, of several daughters; and the failure of her father's health while she was yet young, followed not long afterwards by his death, led her early to take her part in supporting the family by keeping a ladies' school in conjunction with her mother and sisters. There was a widowed mother to assist and cherish, and younger brothers to help forward in life, and a person of less enterprise and energy might well have thought that her obvious and natural duties gave her quite enough to do. Conscientious and exact in the fulfilment of these, she yet watched for and seized opportunities for other kinds of service, her strength of purpose showing itself in resolute endeavour, and the patience that can wait its allotted time. She was a remarkable instance of the value of Carlyle's well-known advice: "Do the duty that lies nearest to thee, the next will become clearer when that is performed." From her work in the Sunday School, the Sunday School be it remembered of a small Unitarian congregation-she passed on to visiting the poor in the wretched courts and alleys of Bristol, a work less common among ladies then than now, and

then to the formation of the St. James's Back Ragged School, which was the seed-bed of her widest and most effectual labours in after time. There the writer remembers seeing her at work many years ago,-a grave-faced woman, old looking for her years, with a mien and expression that conveyed the idea of intense earnestness, rather than of anything else. She did not possess the advantages of beauty or natural charm of manner. On the contrary, she seems to have regarded herself, as many others have done, as deficient in attractiveness and the faculty of being "weel liked,' as the Scotch say. But she had the much rarer gift, or rather grace, of loving the unlovely, and it was a sweet surprise to her to find that those among whom she laboured not only recognised her power over them, but loved her in return. The fascinations of Sister Dora, the ease with which she made herself everything to everybody with whom she came in contact, became, in some measure, a snare to her. She was, indeed, the willing servant of the humblest and the weakest, but she cannot be acquitted of the desire of being first. Mary Carpenter also had her failings : it is admitted that she too was difficult to work with, but this was from a different cause; and it seems as if the love of the naughty boys and girls whom she strove to train in the right way, gave the needful bit of sunshine to a life of strenuous endeavour, with many disappointments and not easily won success or applause.

As it was with the two women, so it will be with their biographies. "Sister Dora" is the more attractive book, and will be read more widely. It is a remarkable history graphically told, and brings us into contact with a joyful and radiant nature, which the most miserable surroundings could not depress, and which bitter experience could not subdue; while there is something almost tragic in interest in the story of "The Life and Work of Mary Carpenter" is

the end.

a graver book. She was grave herself, and her letters, though well written, are grave too. But her work was very important and closely connected with a great national reform, and it is very instructive to note how it grew under her hand. She was one who understood the mastery of details as well as the force of great principles, and as each aspect of her subject presented itself to her mind she tried an experiment on a small scale, tried it with caution and courage, undaunted by difficulties, and patient in learning the hard lessons of experience, until she was able to recommend her plans to others by saying "It can be done, for I have done it." In this way she began her Ragged School, the Reformatory at Kingswood, then the Girls' Reformatory at the Red Lodge, and the Boys' Industrial School, none of which continued to stand alone; all gave rise to the establishment of similar institutions elsewhere, and helped onward the task in which others were labouring, of entirely remodelling the treatment of vagrant and criminal children in England.

Much of Mary Carpenter's time and attention in later years was taken up with efforts to influence legislation in this and the kindred subject of prison reform. She was very successful in this; but, though she retained the personal supervision of some of her own schools to the last, yet she lost a little of her early pleasure in individual dealing with the typical specimens of the objects of her care.

Notwithstanding her great activity her spirits were constitutionally rather low, and as life advanced she often felt lonely and depressed, and it was this in part that made her welcome a change of work, and give so much of her time and thoughts to India in her latter days. Many of her co-workers regretted this, and though it is touching to see how she kept India in her heart from her youth upward, fully occupied in