I am stunned! I am wounded!! I am outraged!!! Just think of that story going the rounds about feeding my children raw potatoes! And yet I did that very thing. Dr. Van Meter dropped in for lunch one day on his way to New York, and I knew I could have only a few hours of his precious time. But the meal had to be prepared, and by me. So, since I could not take him out to the kitchen, I brought the kitchen in to him-at least I brought the potatoes in to peel as I talked to him across the sitting room table. I had only three children then (if Dr. Van Meter had waited just one month, he might have seen all four), but those three crowded round, clamoring for a piece of raw potato. I wish you could have seen the Dean's face. 'Do you let them eat raw potato?' he inquired. 'Why, yes,' I replied. 'They like it. Didn't you ever eat raw potato when you were a boy?' 'I certainly did not!' he replied vigorously.

The war is over, and we all helped win it, some by active and tireless work, some by prayer, faith and influence-nor could either be dispensed with. My contribution was along the lines of thrift and food conservation, combined with as much sewing as I could accomplish as active head of a unit of the Women's War Relief of the Pennsylvania Railroad. I'll never forget a meeting held one day to discuss relief work among the families of railroaders who had gone over to France in the 19th Engineers (Ry). This meeting was presided over by several of the notables among railroad wives. These dear ladies seemed to have an idea that it was an easy job to go among your neighbors and casually find out if they were in need of coal or clothing or what-not. I suggested that not every person was fitted for that kind of work, because not everybody had tact to approach people easily on such matters. And one of the wealthy 'notables' turned to another and said 'Tact? It doesn't take any tact to deal with that kind of people!' (Yes, Mabel Wiant, some of these 'dear old ladies' need to learn a lot.)

But this work that I was doing did not seem like much in view of the dire need. Wasn't there something I could do that my college training had specially fitted me for? There was a terrible shortage of teachers, and I applied as a substitute, was accepted, and for a year I taught English at the Trenton Junior High. I was lucky enough to have a perfectly fine managing housekeeper who stayed by me until the end of the school year. Sometimes I think the Lord let me have such a good one just to show me how much I was needed at home even under the best conditions, for I loved the teaching work and hated to leave it. But I had to give it up, not because I was married but because I was a mother of young children, and no matter how good a substitute teacher I might make, and no matter how good a substitute housekeeper I might get, nobody could substitute for me as their mother.

And now I suppose you all picture me as being at 'ease in Zion'. Not a bit of it. You see, my husband is connected with the P.R.R. and his office claims all of his day. He used to have a little spare time (long ago), but he was put in as Secretary of a healthy young Building and Loan Association, and that began to claim his nights. TO those who don't know about Building and Loan Associations I might say that they are institutions of thrift, whereby a shareholder saves by paying in regular monthly instalments. The money so received is loaned out only on first mortgages on homes, and so brings in a good rate of interest to the shareholder, even though his individual savings are small. Well, this infant, now 13 years old, began to grow so prodigiously that Hubby just had to have an assistant - and whom can a man boss around better than his own wife? So we installed a desk in one corner of the sitting room, with the typewriter I had used so frequently in preparing my Junior School work, brought home the card index file, -- and behold Claire posting books, giving information, or sorting deposit slips for entering in the big roll book. In the meantime I have to have a helper three days a week to relieve me of that much housework.

Which brings me to the subject that exercises Mary Taylor, -- the question of help in the house. Personally, I believe that as far as the North is concerned, the situation will have to become even more acute before it can become better, probably to the point of practically every woman being compelled to do her own work for as long a time as it shall take us to learn a few much-needed lessons. First of all we have to understand the distinction between necessary and unnecessary work, whether done by ourselves or by another; next we have to cultivate more of the spirit of the business man to ward his help (he does not think of them or speak of them as 'servants', but as 'office help' or 'messenger boys', etc.; and lastly we have to recognize the natural limitations of the human body, and not expect more from hired help than we expect from ourselves. For myself, I learned to simplify housekeeping very early in my married life. I had everything to do; obviously, 'everything' had to be brought within the limits of my time and strength. I dare not tell you to what an extent I eliminated ironing - so much of it had been only family custom anyway, like the ironing of stockings and dustcloths! Many little details of time - and labor - saving just seemed to evolve themselves, such as methods of folding towels, etc., so that one 'flip' was enough for hanging them up when wanted. My method of folding baby's napkins in triangles, however, distressed my mother-in-law dreadfully: she had always folded hers into neat little squares. Yes, and every time she wanted to use one, she had to unfold it to the last square inch, and then re-fold it again into triangles - I couldn't see the sense of that.

And now that I have a helper three days a week, I expect her to do no more of the ironing than I did. If it was not worth my time, neither is it worth hers, for I did not need her to do more ironing, but to afford me three days for other things. Very well, then; I'll not expect more work out of her in a given number of hours than of myself. Neither do I spend my time chasing after her as ifs he did not know how to do her work. Once in a while I want something done differently, and then I say so. Anybody can remember one thing at a time.

Hoping that what I have indicated may prove of benefit to those who have had to struggle with household affairs, I'll leave the subject-unless anybody wants additional information, in which case they'd better write to me direct so that we may not tire out the patience of those not interested in the subject.

Like all the rest of you, I rejoice that the war is over, and earnestly wish that there would never be another, but I do not have quite faith enough to believe that my wish will come true. Germany herself gave me my hardest bump. I have some German blood in my veins, as well as English, and I had an abiding faith in the integrity of both those nations. Not lightly did I arrive at my conclusions as to the guilt of Germany in starting the war. I stayed genuinely neutral at first, thinking to myself that I was hearing only one side of the story. Then, in January, 1915, I read carefully the official 'White Books' of the respective nations; and by her own papers, not so much by what she printed as by what she omitted, Germany stood revealed to me as urging war yet insincerely pretending to what peace. Every development of the war made me only more ashamed of Germany, and I waited for her to realize what she had done. 'Ah, but her people were deluded!' Maybe-- but she seems to keep herself pretty well deluded, whatever change in leaders she may make. And there is no possibility of forgiveness for Germany by any nation until she realizes her need of it and sincerely wants it. But she is unrepentant; she has done nothing she need be sorry for; she would do it all over again. If it were only her high spokesmen who proclaimed this, I might think, 'Perhaps they do not after all reflect the public mind of Germany.' But the soldiers I know best who have been over there tell the same thing; the shop-keeper, the wineseller, the man of the house, all have the same attitude.

And now she cries out to me that her babies are starving! Oh, I can't bear the thought of babies starving,. I only hope they can hold on till I get to them. But between me and these hungry babies is a vast field simply crowded with other babies, the starving babies of devastated Belgium, the starving babies of devastated France, the starving babies of devastated northern Italy, the starving babies of Poland, Armenia, Syria and Serbia; the starving babies of famine-stricken China. How can I get through in time? Oh, Germany! You'd better get busy! Work hard and cultivate your fields, untouched by bursting shells; your forests, untouched by the torch of a foe.

Dear girls, I wish I could talk with every one of you, but since I can't, I will rejoice in these splendid letters of yours, revealing as they do your splendid selves. How glad I am that we are continuing with them, that we may all feel better acquainted. God bless you all richly, is the wish of
Your loyal classmate,