THE WOMAN BLACKSMITH.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 187, 30 June 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE WOMAN BLACKSMITH.

"QUITE EASY." By JANE ANDERSON. The Distinguished American Writer. "It's quite easy to be a blacksmith," said Miss Ward. She was standing in the doorway of a big mews, with her blue sleeves rolled back over her elbows and a leather apron belted in at her waist and strapped up over her shoulders. Behind her I could see the red glow of the open forge and two long rows of rusty horseshoes strung on thick wire.

"That is," she said, "if it runs in the family. It's my brother I'm hel'.v. ing, you know." Then she asked me if I would like to come in while they nailed on a shoe. I said that I would So I went inside the mews, which seemed very dark after the sunlight outside, and I waited while Miss Ward put on her leather cuffs and fastened a leather cap over her hair. She explained that the worst of the work was the fact that the coke and the coal dust covered everything with firt "Not that I'm mindin' it," she added. "I'm used to it. It's like war, I'm thinkin'. You get used to it."

And I could not help but wonder if she knew just how much England has got used to war. I looked out through the wide doorway of the mews at the farmhouse, with its thatched roof and the fresh white curtains in the windows; I looked at the narrow road turning at the foot of the hill, and at the grey hedges which bordered it. It happened to be a particularly beautiful bit of England. It was not where I had expected to find a girl who could shoe horses.

"You see," said Miss Ward, "1 used to think it. was funny—this job That's when they said the war would be over in September. And now—well I've been at it for more than a. year. You see, I've kept the place goin', which is pretty good, eonsider';n'. T've two brothers, vc u know at the front"

Then she smiled, and said that it was no time to be remembering troubles. "1 want to make my ten shillings before tea. It's half a crown a shoe, you know. That's two more shoes to-day. It's not a roarin' trade, this, what with all the motors comiii' and goin' everywhere." Then she said I'd tetter stand over at one side, because her brother would be driving in the horses. So I stood over by the two bucket 1 ; of water which were at the side of the forge, and the two horses who were in need of shoes were driven in. Miss Ward's brother said tint they had been eating hay at his haystack for half an hour, and he was going to charge sixpence more for their shoes. "War-time economy." he said. He seemed to be a very affable younger brother, and he had his khaki armlet with the red crown showing on It. I wondered what would happen ut the mews when he was called up for service. I was beginning to believe that in some extraordinary way Miss Ward would "carry on."

It w.as because I had discovered, rather suddenly, that Miss Ward was an extremely competent person. There was something businesslike in the way she took over the bellows and started up the fire. I had thought that she would help, that was all. I was surprised when I saw her drop a crescent-shaped piece of iron on the bright coals and lift it cut again with some black clippers when it had turned red. And T watched with open astonishment while she chiselled a neat row of holes in it. The bright sparks showered over her apron and over her leather cuffs. Certainly there was no question of her competence.

In the meantime her brother was trimming down the hoofs of the horses, which seemed to be a complicated affair. Also there was the problem of taking off an old shoe. In this Miss Ward helped. And I wondered, as I have always wondered when I have been In a blacksmith's shop, if it was not hurting the horse. But he stood patiently on his three legs and stared straight ahead and blinked his eyes. Even when Miss Ward dropped the red iron into the bucket of water and the steam rose in a hot cloud he. did not move.

Certainly It was, all of it, a most amazing proceeding. However, by the time Miss Ward had commenced the nailing of the new shoe into place Ino longer marvellel. She did the job well: she understood it, and she did not question her right to be doing it Therefore 1 accepted it. as I have learned to accept every other extraordinary readjustment to war condition in England. And 1 began to like Miss Ward very much. f liked her for her courage.

1 tried to say something of this to her when her brother had led the two horses out into the yard, and was talking to their owner ahout the charge. "Von might call it. if you wanted to.'" she said, "doing me bit. But, for that matter, we're all doin' O'-j bit. li's not now whet you ca i do. it's what must be done. I'm no saying women should be working in a forge. It's hard work—too hard. There's other tilings for them to be doin' of. When my two brothi is went off to the fro i*, f said that T wasn't goin' to see our sign eon,.fl.:'Au oil' the door of the mews. It's still up there, nails and all. An' I'm helpin' ii stay there. "Win n they'll be comln' along back they'll ho laughin' at tne and the lost of it but they'll he jolly well glad to 'tarry on.' It's when the »;.r's over I been Ihinkin' of. You can't stop because there's nobody to do the work. You just go and do it v.nir-< i", 1; s no time ;o he say ; r.' v. hat yo:i should do mn! what yoii shouldn't do. If there's sonietiiin' to be don.':, do it With mo, r know about horses, an' somebody had to keep thai sign no on the mew So I did it. '•Whra the war's done with that's different. Hard work? Yes, but it's hard to scrub lloors an' cook dinners, an' get in the milk for the churnin'. And for that matter, it's not easy work being in the trenches. Is it? N'o, we're in it too, here at home. They're fightin'.' We're workin". It's no time to lie popping, now. It's no time for men's work and women's work. It's time to 'carry on.' "

Then Miss Ward stooped down and li'iw"! i.ii from tlio floor the rusty horseshoe whirh li.nd been thrown on one side. "I'in saving im these," she said. "An' some day I'm to forge something out of 'em. It's going to be a hoop—there's a little girl

down the road who'd like it. Rather —1 wanted an iron hoop when I was a kiddy. An' that, I'm hopin'. will be my last job at blacksmithing. I'll have finished me bit." And with that Miss Ward smiled and said good-bye. But I went away thinking about what she had toicl me. 1 knew that she was right. That in England at this moment of the war there were no longer men's jobs and women's jobs. There was only work. And that work was war.