Miriam's Schooling and Other PapersWhite, William Hale
General
Miriam's Schooling and Other Papers
White, William Hale
Short stories
Miriam had imagined that she would at once be asked to watch over
grateful patients, to give them medicine, and read to them. However,
she was determined to go through with her project, and she assented.
The next morning saw her in coarse clothes, busy with a pail and soap
and water. It was very hard. She was not a Catholic novice; she was
not penetrated with the great religious idea that, done in the service
of the Master, all work is alike in dignity; she had, in fact, no
religion whatever, and she was confronted with a trial severe even to
an enthusiast received into a nunnery with all the pomp of a gorgeous
ritual and sustained by the faith of ages.
Specially troublesome was her new employment to Miriam, because she was
by nature so unmethodical and careless. Perhaps there are no habits so
hard to overcome as those of general looseness and want of system.
They are often associated with abundance of energy. The corners are
not shirked through fatigue, but there is an unaccountable persistency
in avoiding them, which resolution and preaching are alike unable to
conquer. The root of the inconsistency is a desire speedily to achieve
results. To keep this desire in subjection, to shut the eyes to
results, but patiently to remove the dust to the last atom of it lying
in the dark angle, is a good part of self-culture.
In a hospital Miriam's defect was one of the deadly sins, and many were
the admonitions which she received from Miss Dashwood. One evening,
after a day in which they had been more frequent than usual, she went
to bed, but lay awake. She was obliged to confess to herself that the
light of three months ago, which had then shone round her great design,
had faded. To conceive such a design is one thing, to go down on the
knees and scour floors week after week is something different.
She did not intend, however, to give up. When she rose in the morning
she looked out over the London tiles and through the smoke with a
miserable sinking of heart, hoping, if she hoped for anything, for the
end of the day, and still more for the end of life; but still she
persevered, and determined to persevere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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