LXII
American Red Cross Founder, a life of sacrifice.
New York Tribune.
We realize the economies which Clara Barton lived and practiced, that she might give life and aid to those who were in dire need. The Fra.
Economy is not parsimony. Burke.
Economy is no disgrace. Berz.
It would be well if we had more misers. Goldsmith.
Economy is the poor man’s mint. Tupper.
Economy is half the battle of life. Spurgeon.
Economy is the parent of integrity, of liberty, and of ease.
Dr. S. Johnson.
A habit of economy is prolific of a numerous offspring of virtues.
C. Butler.
Sound economy is a sound understanding, brought into action.
Hannah More.
It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich.
Sir Walter Scott.
Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a ship.
Benjamin Franklin.
The prospect of penury in age is so gloomy and terrifying that every man who looks before him must resolve to avoid it.
Dr. S. Johnson.
I was brought up New England, and I have the New England thrift. Clara Barton.
My expenses have been so heavy and my receipts so “nothing” that I cannot take on more “help.” Clara Barton.
There must be no more big hotel bills; the money must be saved for the sufferers. Clara Barton.
Clara Barton has often been known by those near her to rob herself of all her personal income—to carry on the work of an abiding and all-absorbing charity. Dr. J. Gardner.
At first I used to be shocked over her penuriousness but when I discovered the motive, that it was to save for others in need, no words could describe my conscience-stricken feeling and my admiration of that self-sacrificing woman.
General W. H. Sears, “Secretary.”
The General Has Money — I Am His Reconcentrado
When traveling on the cars, Clara Barton would take her lunches with her. At night she would sit up in the day coach, and not take a sleeper—because of the expense. She made a trip from Washington to Boston. Her secretary was with her. He wanted a sleeper. How could he enjoy the luxury and Miss Barton not know it? Miss Barton had taken her shawl—in a bundle tied together with straps—and laid her head on it for a pillow. “Now is my opportunity,” thought the secretary, but she didn’t close her eyes. Four or five hours any night was enough sleep for Miss Barton, and the secretary knew it. The secretary was becoming ill at ease. He said, “Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Barton, I will go to the smoking car and have a smoke.” He was not there long;—he quietly slipped into the Pullman and went to sleep.
Early the next morning he passed unseen into the smoker of the day coach, then to where Miss Barton, bright and cheerful, was sitting. As nothing was said about “a good night’s rest,” he assumed that she thought he too had practiced self-denial. Nevertheless, he was ashamed over his “make-believe,” and also that a lady of seventy years the possessor of wealth had beaten him, her able-bodied young secretary, on a small salary, at the “game of economy.”
On arriving at Boston “Sister Harriette,” owner of one of the ancestral homes of Massachusetts, was at the station to meet her. The secretary unsuspecting—still “blooded” and a “real sport”—as they entered the station restaurant said “Now, ladies, you are going to have breakfast with me this morning.”
“Sister Harriette,” having served with the Red Cross in the Spanish-American War and knowing the secretary, fully understood when Miss Barton slyly remarked “oh, yes, the General has money, you know; he travels in a Pullman and I am his reconcentrado.”