The other day on the street I overheard a girl uttering words that made
me turn in dismay to look at her. I saw, not what I expected to see, a
coarse, ill-clad, ignorant girl, but a pretty, fashionably dressed girl
with high school books under her arm. Where had she breathed in the
sentiments regarding honor which in slangy phrases she breathed out with
no hesitation or shame? There was nothing high or lofty in the emotion
enkindled by what she breathed into her soul from her environment, and
what she had breathed out into her companion's ears could not fail to
weaken and injure.

I found myself wondering what her environment could be and later when I
described her, a girl companion told me her name. I remembered her then,
one of the girls who had grown up quickly, the daughter of a skilled
mechanic who made good wages and owned a comfortable home. She was an
only child and her mother was socially ambitious for her. The mother had
done nothing to interest her daughter in the church, only now and then
did she attend Sunday-school; friends were entertained Sunday evening,
so she had no connection with the young peoples' societies of the
church. She is a type of a vast number of girls whose religious sense
lies dormant.

Knowing now her environment, I asked myself, "Where can she 'breathe in
that which will stir her soul to high and lofty emotion,' and enable her
to help and bless her world?" At home? Can she there breathe in that
which will enkindle noble ambition to love and serve in a world which so
needs love and service?

Once there were numberless homes and, thank God, there are still many
where a girl can breathe in deep draughts of the fresh, sweet, wholesome