Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 January 1912 — The Ideas of a School Girl [ARTICLE]

The Ideas of a School Girl

I wish that every girl who reads these lines would think of them as comlng -from the pen of another girl, who has a girt's-' thoughts and aspirations. I am in the society ot girls ’ every day, and I am only expressing my opinion of what I hear and see. I know that in every girl’s heart there is an expectation of the time when her particular Knight shall come riding out of the wood, and take her out of this hard, matter-of-fact realm into a new life. Yes the girls think of this, and talk of It *oo, as every normal girl should. But we, most of us, never think to prepare. Girls, when "he” does come "he” will want your love. You know that and spec*: of it. But stop to think what love you have to give him. A great, great many of you are throwing .it away, and never dream it. You are wasting it on every other boy who crosses your path. I know several, no many, good, sweet girls who only,need to see a nice looking boy once or twice, and they immediately “ have a bad case.” It is shocking, but it is true. You say that there is no harm, that it only lasts a few days. Yes but dear girls, this occurs on an average; of _jeyery eight weeks, as, 1 have noticed. I know this to be true and will venture to say one girl out of every ten in this city “falls in love,” or what they call love at least six times a year. Now, when the time comes that we want our love to give to the above mentioned knight, what will we find? The purest, sweetest thing that God has given us has been so soiled and crumpled that we are ashamed to offer It as the precious gift it should be. We often hear the simile, “Love Is a Rose.” How proud we shall be, some morning, to pluck our rose, and find it fresh and sweet, with the dew still clinging to it. And, on, what a disappointment if it is besmirched and wiltdd, all its bean'ty and tragrance hriisfrCu off by being passed from hand to hand. Now, let us think before we allow another ruthless hand to caress our rose, just how, we wish to ctfer it —fresh or faded.