Table-Mats From String.

From Woman’s Weekly, 16th March 1918.

Table-Mats From String.

THIS little mat being published by special request, for some readers have collected all odd pieces of string of the same thickness, and want to make mats for their kitchen tables.  Of course, from macrame string, or other string of good appearance, you could make a mat fit for any table or on the sideboard before placing hot dishes on it.  The string used for the mine-sweepers' gloves makes the better mats.  Use a strong steel hook, coarse enough to take the string. 

ABBREVIATIONS : Ch., chain ; d.c., double crochet ; tr., treble. 

Work rather tightly. and begin with 3 ch.  Into the first of the ch. make 5 d.c., and draw up the end of the string so as to close the centre compactly. 

2ND ROUND:  2 d. c. into every stitch of preceding round.  Take up the back loop of the stitches throughout, so as to get a ribbed effect. –

3RD ROUND:  * 2 d.c. into the first stitch, d.c. in the next; repeat from * all round.  The increasing is begun in this round.

4TH ROUND:  * 2 d.c. into first stitch, 1 d.c. in each of next 2 stitches; repeat from * all round. 

5TH ROUND: * 2 d.c. into first stitch, 1 d.c. in each of next 3 stitches; repeat from *.

You will notice that every round begins with an increasing made by working 2 d.c. into the first stitch of preceding round, and the number of d.c. between each increase is one more in each section in each round. 

Continue to work in this way until there are thirteen stitches between the increasings.  By following these instructions the mat may be made any required size, and will set quite flat on the table.  

When the middle is done, work the fans all round.  In the first d.c. of preceding round, make * 1 tr., then 2 ch. and 1 tr. 4 times, 3 ch., miss three, 1 d.c., 3 ch., miss 3; repeat from * all round, and finish with a slipstitch into the first tr.  Cut off the string and run in the end securely at the back of the mat.

Requests to Working Parties

From the Western Times, 15th March 1918.

TO WORKING PARTIES

What is Wanted by the Devons in the Field

Will working parties and individual helpers kindly send at once to the Mayoress of Exeter's Depot any woollens which they have ready.  The Director-General of Voluntary Organisations has just issued a notification to the effect that troops in the field will need knitted comforts of all kinds till the end of the present month, so that all available supplies should be despatched overseas at the earliest possible moment.  From the middle of April onwards during the summer months, the articles especially appreciated will be anti-vermin vests, sun-shields, handkerchiefs (dark shades), towels and any hand-knitted socks.  The Director-General has also drawn attention to the fact that the demand for games among the troops rendered these always very acceptable.

['The Devons' means the Devonshire Regiment.  The Director-General of Voluntary Organisations, Sir Edward Ward, was in charge of requesting, collecting and despatching comforts to the troops on active service.]

1918 Fashions

From the Illustrated London News, 9th March 1918. 

LADIES’ PAGE.

THIS is the time of year when, in the happy days before the war, we all began to think about new spring fashions, as naturally as the buds begin to open and the birds to sing.  Now, we are thinking chiefly of sterner, sadder things.  Nevertheless, we must be clothed, and when we really need new things it is worth while to have them as pretty and suitable as possible.  Many girls who had but few and cheap clothes while they depended on a dress allowance from their fathers are now earning their own money at some form of war work, and it is quite natural that they should spend some of it on pretty and becoming dress.  On the other hand, richer women feel that it is "bad form" to be extravagant or to adopt any outré styles.  Both these facts are reflected in the spring displays of designs.  There is a general simplicity, straight and loose cut, restraint in trimming, no great alteration from last year's best styles, and everything shown is comparatively inexpensive.  The prices are, however, affected by the scarcity of some materials.  Woollen goods are doubled in price by the manufacturers because the raw material is scarce, and even at raised prices goods are not abundant.  This fact has been officially recognised in France; the Government has actually requested the great Paris dress-designing houses to construct women's new dresses so as to use up as little material as possible.  The spring models, therefore, have all moderately narrow skirts; but no "hobble" widths are seen—just a comfortable fulness.  Rumour says that the width will presently become still less, and that the fashion of yesteryear of slitting up the sides of skirts will be revived.  It is also certain that there will be a slightly increased length worn, for very short skirts require considerable fulness to move gracefully in, but still sensible shortness prevails.  It is usually just well above the ankle that the skirt of the moment ends—not as it was erstwhile, near the middle of the calf.

When we know that pure wool fabrics (needed in our climate for a large part of the year) are difficult to obtain, a cloth that is guaranteed to be genuine hand-woven wool and that at the same time is entirely produced in Scottish homesteads by wounded or disabled sailors and soldiers, must strongly appeal to us all.  Messrs. Burberrys, the well-known Haymarket firm, have undertaken to dispose of the whole output of this material, so that it can only be obtained from that house or its authorised agents, under the distinctive name of "Blighty Tweeds."  These cloths are woven on hand-looms from the finest Scotch sheep's wool, and are ideal for men's and women's over-coats, suits, and gowns.  The colourings and designs are good, and the tweeds are lasting in wear as well as soft and fine.  They are sold at the lowest possible economic price, and every member of the public who purchases them experiences the satisfaction of feeling that he is making some practical return for the self-devotion of our sailors and soldiers.  Every piece of "Blighty Tweed" is marked with the name of the wounded man who has woven it, who is thus brought into sympathetic contact with the purchaser.

Games For The Men

From The Times, March 6th 1918.

GAMES FOR THE MEN.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES

.

Sir,—May I, of your kindness, have another word with my knitters who by the end of this letter will all be turned into something else?  First, to many inquirers, we want all comforts up till April, when a short holiday may be taken—but the needles must on no account be locked up for the summer. Of this more later.

Then I am asked to enlist all friends of sweaters in the following plan.  The Director-General's depôts at Havre, Basra, and elsewhere when doling out the knitted comforts are constantly asked for things of which we never have anything like enough—notably games.  It is these I am now charged to ask all readers with a kindly feeling for the Army to supply.  I can well believe that in the psychology of war, with the infinite patience entailed on all ranks, amusement cannot be called a side issue.  Probably every house in England has a game to spare for the bother of looking it out and sending it.  I don't mean my old friend the pack with 51 cards in it, nor yet Aunt Emily's most ingeniously invented parlour bobo (I hope I have the name rightly, but the MS. instructions are thrice crossed).  Further, racquets are best sent complete with strings, and balls should be of the round shape with some life in them.  Above are indications of what we don't want; here is a preliminary list of what we do:—Everything used for bowls, boxing, cards, chess, cricket, draughts, football, golf, halma, "house," and similar games, hockey, quoits, and tennis.  Also the kit needed, especially shoes and shorts.  Any addition, dictated by good sense and good feeling rather than spring cleaning, can be made to this list.  Extra netting for tennis courts, etc., will be very useful.  I am afraid some of these things are not so easy to post as sweaters, but they can be handed in at any of the local depôts of the Director-General of Voluntary Organizations throughout the country, where this is more convenient than sending them to the Central Pool, at 45, Horseferry-road, S.W.1.

I must recur to sweaters for a moment.  I am most grateful not only on behalf of the men for the quantity sent me (46,405 sweaters and 66,122 other comforts up to date), but also for the glimpses with which I have been honoured into thousands upon thousands of homes willing to give nothing but their best, and having no feeling beyond pride and gratitude for those they serve.

Yours faithfully,
JOHN PENOYRE.
Games to Sir E, Ward, D.G.V.O., 45, Horseferry-road. S.W.1.  Correspondence, marked Games, to John Penoyre, 8, King's Bench Walk, Temple, E.C.4.

Optical Munitions

From Woman’s Weekly, 2nd March 1918.

The Eyes Of The Army

How to Become an Optical Munitions Maker.

JESSICA'S mother had come to consult me; she is an old friend, and pretty, shy Jessica is my god-daughter. 

“She's seventeen next week, and leaving school this spring,” said the anxious mother; “and I can't think what to get her to do.  You see, she had set her heart upon fancy millinery or art needlework, but, as her father says, it is those luxury trades that are bound to be hard hit by the war as time goes on.  And the girl herself would like to help in war-work if she could; but she’s not strong enough for rough work, you know.  And it would be a pity to spoil her hands for millinery and needlework later, if one can avoid it, that is,” she added, for she is a good, patriotic soul, is Mrs. Browne, “Her eyesight is good?”  I inquired.

“Splendid!” said Jessica, who had slipped unnoticed into the room.

She came up and kissed me, and I looked fondly at her; I am very fond of Jessica.

She is not exactly pretty, but she has two “points”—beautiful hands, with long, sensitive fingers, and blue-grey eyes with long, dark lashes that are as clear as truth itself.

“So you would like to help, lassie, would you?” I said softly.

I knew that there was a budding romance already in Jessica's life, and “he” " was out in France with a machine gun corps. 

The girl nodded.

“Well, then, why not help to make Robin ‘eyes’ for spotting the enemy?”  Then, seeing both mother and daughter were puzzled, I explained, “Go in for making those wonderful lenses and prisms that are used for the range-finders, the directors, the periscopes, and the binoculars, you know.  They have to be most accurately ground and polished, or the submarines and the gunners and the air-men are ‘blind,’ and their weapons useless.  And it is work that girls and women can do well, with their delicate, sensitive fingers and their keen, patient eyes.  Just where your talents lie, lassie,” I said.  “Even after the war there will be plenty of work in this way for telescopes, microscopes, photographic lenses, and all the other optical instruments we use.  It isn't a ‘blind alley’ occupation, as some war jobs are bound to be, you see.”

HOW A GIRL CAN TRAIN. 
“BUT the fees for training?  Are they very heavy?” said Mrs. Browne anxiously.  “You see there are the boys still ——”

“There aren't any fees,” I reassured her.  “Jessica would be trained for nothing and given a good maintenance allowance into the bargain while learning.  Ten to twenty weeks should see her skilled enough for a position which will be found for her quickly enough.  In return, she must promise to work where she is sent, and stick to optical munitions until three months after peace is signed.  And though she may be sent to any part of the United Kingdom, her wishes for a special district will be given consideration.”

THE PROSPECTS OFFERED. 
“WHAT about my age?”  asked Jessica.

“Just right; sixteen to thirty is the limit.  Over thirty is possible if the case is considered suitable.  And the wages are good, for some clever girls on piece work, at the end of six months in the factory, have earned 35s. to 40s. weekly.

“Better than millinery or art needle-work, that?”  Jessica nodded.

“There is no physical strain; the work is usually done standing, but it is not heavy, and the day is not longer than nine and a half hours.  Why not write to the Director, Optical Munitions Training School, Northampton Polytechnic Institute, 280, St. John's Street, London, E.C. 1?  And at once, for there is no time to be lost.”

“She's young enough still,” objected Mrs. Browne, rather astonished.

“I meant the hurry for the other side of the question,” I said gravely.  “The boys in the trenches, the men afloat, the lads in the air, and the doctors on research work—they are the ones who cannot afford time to be lost for want of our Jessica.  Every new, keen worker means so much to them, you know.”

“And to us,” said Jessica very softly.

I smiled.

“I see you can fulfil the ‘willing’ bit,” I said.  “A girl candidate must be willing to:

“Stand while working; “Stick to the job; “Go, when trained, where she is needed;“Wait for a vacancy, if a special locality is desired.”

“Yes, I am willing,” said Jessica, and she meant it.

She had seen how she could help, not only “him,” but “them!”

The Traveller’s Aid Society

From Woman’s Weekly, 2nd March 1918.

Alone – And Nowhere To Go.

How The Travellers’ Aid Society Safeguards The Unprotected Girl in a Strange Town.

WE have seen her so often on our journeys, we elder folk; maybe she has reminded us of Little Red Riding of the dear old legend, with her innocent “morning face” and that childlike wonder which shows her inexperience.  And we have hoped that no cruel wolf will ever stray across her path to frighten or injure.  There are so many prowling wolves ready to take their toll of ignorance and youth in our big cities, you see.
And then, perhaps, we have sighed and wished that there were some means of protecting helplessness and guiding ignorance when obliged to travel alone; we know the risks and we wish they could be spared these “little ones.”
And all the while there is such a means, only it is not sufficiently known, despite the big framed advertisements in waiting-rooms and the leaflets published by its organisers.
Red Riding Hood can safely travel the length and breadth of the country, by day or night, if she will but avail herself of the kindness of that old-established and Royally patronised society, the Travellers’ Aid Society for Girls and Women.  She need fear no unscrupulous wolf in the apparent guise of a harmless sheep; she can rely upon aid exactly when and where she needs it.  She has but to ask, or get someone to ask for her, and all will be well.

THE POST IN LONDON. 
“I RECKON our Mary would like to take a post in Lunnon, but ’tis a powerful wicked place, and folks do tell such tales of young girls being lost there or worse,” says the village mother. “And what with fares being that high and food that dear, I can’t contrive to take her up meself. She isn’t over-sharp in strange places, and I don’t want her to come to no harm, so there ‘tis; she must bide at home.”
But there is disappointment on the faces of both mother and daughter, for that well-paid post would have been a godsend, with times so bad and a sick father.
And, like water on thirsty ground, comes the news that Mary can travel as pleasantly and safely as if she were the young lady at the Hall with her maid.  We will write, giving three days’ notice to the Society’s Secretary, at the Office, 3, Baker Street, London, W.1, and a friendly, helpful guide will meet Mary at the terminus, and see that she reaches her destination.

IS THE SITUATION GENUINE?
OR, maybe, the “place” sounds well, but the cautious mother hesitates; all is not gold that glitters, she knows.  How can she be sure that her lassie will not run her head into a noose of entanglement and misery?
And again the society will help; the situation will be put to the test, and Mary can enter upon it with a good heart.
Wonderful society!  It meets the bewildered girl whose train is late and, whose connection being lost, is stranded, penniless and helpless; it will take her to a decent shelter for the night at its own office or elsewhere; it will telegraph to her friends if need be; in short, it will “mother” her till she is safe once there.
The little booklet published by the society tells of a few of the splendid “rescues” that have been accomplished; of the young Belgian lassie who came from Boulogne at night too late to go on to Buckinghamshire, and who, but for the might have fallen indeed amongst wolves.  Of the little child-actresses, separated from their company, who were petted and sheltered and sent again on their way rejoicing.

A TYPICAL CASE. 
A GIRL, eighteen years old, had come from America to go to her home in Kent.  The train from Liverpool arrived in London late at night;. and she found that she could not continue her journey till the next morning.  She had enough money for her fare, but not any to pay for a night’s lodging, nor yet for crossing London with her heavy luggage.  A “gentleman” who had travelled by the same train got her story from her, and offered to pay for herself and luggage across London and take her down by a night train which, he averred, would reach the town at 1 a.m., and she could stay in the railway-station waiting-room till it was light enough for her to get home.  Although not knowing that the “night train” was a pure invention on the part of her informant, yet the girl objected to arriving at a country station at one o’clock in the morning, and a discussion ensued.  While they were talking a station official came up to see what was going on.  He promptly dismissed the “gentleman” and put the girl in a cab and sent her to the T.A.S., where a night's lodging was given her, and she was seen off for home on the next day.  She wrote afterwards to announce her safe arrival, and to express regret that she and her parents had no means to repay the Society.

A DOUBTFUL SITUATION. 
THE danger to girls who take situations heard of only through advertisements and arranged only by letter is terrible to think of, and the pity of it is enhanced by the remembrance that it is just the simple and ignorant who are most surely entrapped in this way.
A French girl, whose parents were very poor and worthy people, had a narrow escape.  Tempted by the prospect of better wages, she came to London, and finding no one to meet her at the station, she took a cab and drove to the address to which she had directed her letters. It was a small shop.  She asked for Mrs. J.; Mrs. J. did not live there, but a man called for letters addressed to her.  He had been there that afternoon, but had gone away again in a hurry, saying that he must go to the railway station.  The cab-man had to take his “fare” back to the station, and the interpreter advised her to go to the Travellers’ Aid Society, which she did.  She was put into a home, a respectable situation was found for her, and she was most grateful to have been saved from what looked like a very doubtful engagement.  How would it have been possible for her poor parents to trace her had she once got into the hands of that man, who must have had reasons of his own for concealing his real address?

HELP FOR ALL. 
THERE are many school-children, too, who will speak gratefully of the kind helpers who made their journeys so easy and safe; there are countless women and girls who have read the placards of the society in waiting-rooms, and remembered in dire emergency, where they could summon help — help that has saved them from worse than death. Foolish children who have run away from home in anger, to find themselves stranded and penniless and afraid — they also would add their quota of gratitude if asked.
Often these befriended ones return to their good Samaritans of the society a tangible token of gratitude for their stay in the emergency rooms, but sometimes they cannot, for stress of poverty. It is all the same to thr T.A.S.; not means, but helplessness is the key to its heart.  Everyone who cares for others, especially for the weak and the ignorant, should remember that all they need do when they would help such on their way is to apply to this useful body of charitable folk, the Travellers’ Aid Society, on behalf of their proteges, giving a clear three days’ notice at the least.
It goes without saying that if they also can help by offerings of service or of money, they will forward a great work.  For until the wolf is extinct the lamb will be in danger; Red Riding Hood is just a pretty parable of a very real and grim fact of modern life.  And it is the T.A.S. that sees to it that there is a “happy ending” to the story, you know.

A Different Jill for a Different Jack

From Home Notes, March 2nd, 1918

A DIFFERENT JILL FOR A DIFFERENT JACK

Your man will have changed when he comes back from the war, and it’s up to you to change, too, says this contributor, if you want your new life together to be a success.

Man Has Changed!

And he will expect “his woman” to change also!

The quiet, domesticated, stay-at-home-and-read-the-paper-by-the-fire husband has disappeared. The war tore him from his home and he has been drilled and disciplined into a very different thing.

And he will expect Jill to change also!  The point is, will she?

The young Jill — the Jill who is bus-conducting, or making munitions, who is mixing with masses of men and women, who is learning self-control and endurance, she is altering as much as Jack is, but then she is growing up in this stirring, wonderful, independent present.  It is the wife who is going to make a shipwreck of life.

The Jill who is not quite young, who grew up in the quiet, uneventful, stagnant past, who has never gone out and rubbed shoulders with her fellows.  Her stride is not lengthening as she swings to work, like her younger sisters; she is till bound by small conventions, and her horizon ends with the outskirts of her own domain.

And she is expecting her 1914 husband to come home again!

He cannot!  He does not exist!  He has evolved into something absolutely different, and she will not like the evolution!

He has been facing big elemental facts, and the narrow little ruts of home life are not going to confine him any longer.  He knows that there are wider and greater things outside, and the little petty domestic rules will bind him no more.

The greatest domestic disturbance will seem a triviality after the colossal upheavals that he has witnessed.

Is he going to trouble over one muddy footprint on the hall floor — he, who has lived in mud?  Is he going to groan when the maid drops a tea-cup — he, who has seen shells drop?

He is too much alive!

And if his wife is sensible she will begin to live also!

She has slight hold on him now except the hold of love, for he no longer depends on her.  Cooking and sewing have lost their terrors for him, and there is not much that the returned husband is not capable of doing for himself.

He has been living with men; he has been making a large number of “pals”, and he probably intends to keep them.

And they are possibly not quite the kind of friends that she has been used to.  Don’t try to choke “our set”, and “class distinction,” and “losing caste” down his throat, he’s past all that.  He lost it when they went over the top together.

In future he is going to choose his friends because he likes them, and not because they move in “our set,” or own a motor.

The success or failure of her future life is in Jill’s own hands.  If she will only learn that there are more important things than door-mats, bigger things than the departure of a maid-servant, and more beautiful things than a super-orderly drawing -room, then Jack when he comes home will find a new Jill waiting for him, and he will give her a love and reverence that will far surpass the love that narrow, prosaic, pre-war-husband Jack gave to his still narrower and more humdrum pre-war-wife Jill. 

[I'm not sure how accurate a prediction this was of the psychological state of the men who came home from the war, but certainly the warning that they would have been changed by the experience would have been valid.  And it's notable that magazines were looking forward to the end of the war, when in reality, the end was not yet in sight and the outcome was far from certain.]