SITY OFCALiFORNI 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 ji ii
 
 SOUTHERN BRANCH, 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 
 LIBRARY, 
 
 i-OS ANGELES, CAJJF.
 
 From the Child's Standpoint 
 
 o
 
 PARENTS' LIBRARY 
 
 By FLORENCE HULL WINTERBURN 
 
 NURSERY ETHICS 
 
 laran, cloth $1.00 
 
 FROM THE CHILD'S STANDPOINT 
 
 i2mo, cloth, with author's portrait .... 1.25 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S HEALTH 
 
 i2mo, cloth, with frontispiece net, 1.25

 
 From the Child's Standpoint 
 
 Views of Child Life and Nature 
 *A 'Book for Tarents and Teachers 
 
 BY 
 
 Florence Hull Winterburn 
 
 ^Author of " lT(urserj> Ethics " 
 
 /47 96 
 
 SECOND THOUSAND 
 
 New York 
 
 The Baker and Taylor Company 
 
 33-37 East Seventeenth Street 
 
 NOV 190/
 
 Copyright, 1899, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE BAKER AND TAYLOR COMPANY 
 
 ROBERT DRUMMOND. PRINTER. NEW YORK.
 
 
 TO 
 ail Xovers of Cbfloren 
 
 ■* ^ -> j 
 
 I c
 
 Preface 
 
 The only reason any book has for being is that 
 it contains something which people cannot do 
 without. Tried by this standard this little book 
 has for some time faltered upon the threshold, and 
 would not appear now but for the belief of the 
 author that it presents a few truths which, though 
 evident to all the world, are usually ignored. In 
 the course of a varied life experience I have con- 
 tinually observed persons expressing one kind of 
 belief concerning children, and acting out another; 
 and it has seemed to me that the great bar to an 
 understanding of the little creatures is the intense, 
 persistent egotism of adults. 
 
 All kindly disposed persons make occasional 
 efforts to establish friendly relations with children, 
 but anything which is only partly comprehended 
 soon becomes wearisome; and as child nature is 
 a profound subject, and, as Dick Swiveller said of 
 beer, " cannot be tasted in sips," most people give 
 over such efforts long before any real interest has 
 been aroused in their minds. 
 
 In the study of human nature a moment's honest 
 
 vii
 
 viii Preface 
 
 sympathy is worth years of theorizing, and if we 
 wish to know a child as he really is we must think 
 and feel just as he does. My sympathy has always 
 gone out instinctively to children; the impulse to 
 look at matters from their point of view has over- 
 borne any ambition that may once have existed 
 to be wise from an adult standpoint. This may 
 explain the lack of systematic form in this volume. 
 There are here only a series of little studies or 
 sketches, woven together by a slight thread, in 
 which I have tried to relate, as the child's spokes- 
 man, some of his ideas, feelings, and needs. It is 
 sent forth as a missive from the child world, and 
 if I have erred in my interpretation of their natures, 
 have been superficial where I should have been pro- 
 found, or weak where their champion should have 
 been strong, the fault lies not with neglect, but in 
 my incapacity. And my dear children will pardon 
 their friend. 
 
 For courteous permission to reprint certain mat- 
 ter that has previously appeared in their publica- 
 tions I have to thank the publishers of The 
 Woman's Home Companion, The Sunday School 
 Times, and Harper's Bazar. 
 
 F. H. W. 
 
 New York. March 6, 1899.
 
 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. The Real Home 13 
 
 II. Natural Religion 21 
 
 III. Honesty and Politeness 28 
 
 IV. The Choice of a Life Pursuit 37 
 
 V. The City Child in the Country 44 
 
 VI. Happiness and Duty 52 
 
 VII. The Dear World of Fancy 58 
 
 VIII. Holly and Mistletoe 64 
 
 IX. A View of School Life 75 
 
 X. Children Love Color 88 
 
 XL Personalities and Vanity 92 
 
 XII. When Character is Forming 100 
 
 XIII. The Flower of Innocence 106 
 
 XIV. Growth in Self-government 115 
 
 XV. The Right to be Understood 120 
 
 XVI. An Up-hill Journey 126 
 
 XVII. Innocence is Easy Prey 134 
 
 XVIII. Childish Affinities 140 
 
 XIX. Cultivating Taste 146 
 
 XX. Picture-thinking 150 
 
 XXL The Little Mother 156 
 
 XXII. An Inevitable Separation 162 
 
 XXIII. Cheerfulness 166 
 
 XXIV. A Family Tyrant 170 
 
 XXV. Energy and Temper 176
 
 Contents 
 
 PAGB 
 
 XXVI. Baby Wants a Corner 183 
 
 XXVII. Nothing Lasts but Love 187 
 
 XXVIII. Pleasures of Ownership 191 
 
 XXIX. The Moral Se-nse 196 
 
 XXX. An Office of Motherhood 203 
 
 XXXI. Curiosity 211 
 
 XXXII. Nursery Note-books 218 
 
 XXXIII. Dialect in the Nursery 226 
 
 XXXIV. The Spirit of Christmas 231 
 
 XXXV. The Washington Pickaninny 241 
 
 XXXVI. Faith 249 
 
 XXXVII. Infant Hoodooism 254 
 
 XXXVIII. The Passing of Childhood 262 
 
 XXXIX. Planning for Our Children 270
 
 There is no plummet science can throw that will infallibly- 
 sound the depths of the most simple child's heart and mind. 
 If he thinks our thoughts and shares our feelings it is with 
 one signal difference: narrow and concentrated vision gives 
 him an intensity that we rarely experience. Where we are 
 broad and shallow, he is keen; true to instincts that have not 
 been dulled by the thousand conflicting interests which are 
 recognized by older minds. So if we would know the child 
 as he is, we must know him through his feelings, source 
 of all his acts and aims. By viewing him in detail we may 
 finally see his nature as a whole. And from childhood's pure 
 hopes, wishes, and beliefs, we may, if we will, construct an 
 ideal of humanity nobler than that which we now think great 
 and good.
 
 ft* 
 
 From the Child's' Standpoint 
 
 The Real Home 
 
 I once knew a man possessed of large means, 
 the owner of a handsome residence in which noth- 
 ing that a refined taste could wish seemed wanting, 
 who always spoke of his dwelling as " the house." 
 In fifteen years' acquaintance I never heard him 
 utter the word " home " in connection with the 
 abode of which he was master. Putting together 
 certain details that were puzzling at the time, the 
 reason of this curiously reserved attitude has oc- 
 curred to me. The air of that house was garish, 
 bald ; everything was exposed to public view. 
 What artists call " atmosphere," that soft film 
 which seems to make a picture stand back envel- 
 oped in its surroundings, was lacking. Things of 
 beauty were present, company was plentiful, and 
 everything pertaining to bodily comfort was sup- 
 plied without stint. But there was no soul in any 
 of it. The whole house was like a ball-room ; a 
 place to riot in, to have a good time ; but there was 
 not a corner from attic to cellar where gentle in- 
 
 13
 
 X 
 
 14 The Real Home 
 
 fluences seemed to dwell and that met the needs of 
 one's higher nature. No wonder that its inmates 
 merely stayed there, and that to the little children 
 who grew up within its walls the word " home " 
 never possessed any sweetness or sacred meaning. 
 
 A child's instinct in this matter, as in most, is 
 true. He feels the presence or the absence of what 
 ministers to happiness while yet he is, like the 
 scholar smitten with word-dumbness, unable to ex- 
 press that of which he is so acutely aware. Some 
 of us, however, have the power to recall our youth- 
 ful mental experiences vividly in after-life when 
 riper knowledge throws a new light upon them. It 
 is through such candid self-analysis united with 
 keen observation of living children that We come 
 to find out what is of the most serious concern to 
 them. 
 
 First of all, childhood is naturally honest ; the 
 import of a fact lies in the fact itself, not in what 
 other people think about it. If home is comfort- 
 able, if repose is to be found there, and if it affords 
 a secure and sympathetic shelter for the little fan- 
 cies, notions, and aspirations that bubble up contin- 
 ually in a child's heart, luxury is present so far as 
 he is concerned. But stiffness, conventionality, 
 and the arrangement of matters upon the basis of 
 making a good appearance before the world chill 
 his innocent, straightforward nature. Hardest,
 
 The Real Home 15 
 
 sternest of lessons is this, that the house is man- 
 aged with the view of pleasing strangers and that 
 the best side is always to be turned outward, while 
 no pains are taken to smooth and beautify the 
 seamy side that is deemed good enough for the 
 family. A child loves beauty; not elegance, style, 
 nor that outward varnish which is like the artificial 
 freshness of a worn-out actress, but real, genuine 
 loveliness which is possessed of the first essential 
 quality of beauty, namely, that it meets some want 
 of one's nature. Ruskin maintained that no orna- 
 ment was appropriate upon a lady's dress which 
 did not serve some useful purpose. Thus, brooches 
 are justified, while necklaces are barbaric. 
 
 So, the child and the genius meet upon the com- 
 mon ground of integrity. That thing is beautiful 
 to him which is associated with pleasure. The 
 stately drawing-room where he must keep his 
 hands behind his back and walk upon tiptoe is as 
 alien to his affections as the fine arts gallery or the 
 cathedral, which excite admiration and awe but 
 have no part in his real life. It is well enough to 
 set aside some such altar for society if one has 
 space to spare, and it may then be regarded as a 
 thing apart. But how desolate is the atmosphere 
 of a house where appearances are kept up through- 
 out, and not a niche exists where one's own per- 
 sonality may expand and overflow freely.
 
 1 6 The Real Home 
 
 It is not disorder that can create this congenial 
 atmosphere ; it is the feeling of entire possession. 
 Watch some little child enter the house with hasty- 
 step and quivering lip, and make way straight for 
 the old lounge in the upper hall, which reached he 
 throws his satchel of books down and burying his 
 face in the familiar pillows sobs out his griefs and 
 his disappointment into their motherly depths, ris- 
 ing comforted somehow by the feeling that if hard- 
 ships assail him outside, here are peace, sympathy, 
 and refuge. 
 
 The master of a mansion, desirous of repose, 
 strides through the house to his smoking-den or 
 dressing-room and there gets comfort from the 
 sight of some dingy old object that has had ups 
 and downs in his company and seems to under- 
 stand his moods. The mistress shuts herself into 
 her own room and gazes with filling eyes upon the 
 flotsam that has come clown from her old girl- 
 hood's home, and the dear association makes her 
 feel less forlorn in that hour when all the riches re- 
 fined taste has gathered together fail to ease her 
 heart. 
 
 How human, then, to desire in a home those 
 things congenial to one's self, and that we can cen- 
 tre our affections upon and feel easy with. The true 
 home atmosphere exists where this blessed air of 
 congeniality salutes one at the front door, not be-
 
 The Real Home ij 
 
 ing confined to separate rooms but spreading 
 throughout the whole house, and drawing one into 
 communion with the other members of one's fam- 
 ily. And this suggests the next point, which is 
 that harmony, that delicious thing made up of 
 agreement between different tempers, and accord 
 and unity of aim and pursuit amongst the inmates, 
 is as the pure air of heaven, where all that is best 
 and happiest in child-nature can expand without 
 limit. As the blast of Sahara upon a delicate rose 
 is a storm of dissension between the father and 
 mother in its effect upon the happy confidence of 
 the child's heart. Let there be love in a home, and 
 more than that, a confidential, cheery habit of in- 
 tercourse. With this present, one poor room may 
 be paradise, and without it — well, the child might 
 as well stop shivering upon the door-step as enter 
 in where the biting frost of unkind criticism and 
 distrust, the cold temper of mutual dislike are in 
 possession of the house. 
 
 But harmony presupposes a certain lack of ego- 
 tism amongst the members of a family. No one 
 must be wholly occupied with his own concerns or 
 absorbed with his own development. Especially 
 must the mother be, to a great extent, disengaged. 
 If there is a being in the world who must, in order 
 to fulfill her natural duties, care more for the hap- 
 piness and welfare of others than her own, it is the
 
 1 8 The Real Home 
 
 mother of a family. She is the centre of its life, the 
 creator of its atmosphere. To her all look for sym- 
 pathy, for comfort, for companionship. If she is 
 wrapt up in pursuits that relate only to herself, and 
 that are apart from the general interest, it is as if 
 the sun, upon which humanity depends, should be- 
 gin to absorb his own light and heat upon the plea 
 of self-improvement. A woman standing side by 
 side with her husband and among her children, liv- 
 ing with them the life of highest culture, is a beau- 
 tiful spectacle ; while the same woman immersed 
 in affairs alien to theirs must be regarded as a de- 
 serter from duties she has engaged herself for, and 
 her home viewed as a mere shell from which the 
 living element has departed. 
 
 From the child's standpoint. We are looking at 
 this matter as the straightforward, clear-eyed little 
 one looks at it. To him home and motherhood 
 are one idea. Whether the good genius be a 
 mother in the flesh, an elder sister, or relative who 
 has the supervision of the house, he craves of her 
 that brooding, tender quality that spreads itself 
 around him as a gentle shelter keeping off the 
 harsh world. 
 
 This delicate care may, as I said, make a home 
 out of an ugly room or a bleak tenement. It is at- 
 mosphere that childhood most wants; a kindly 
 veil that separates its private life from the staring
 
 The Real Home 19 
 
 public. But the ideal is to have the power of reser- 
 vation extended. A house set out against a side- 
 walk must have very peculiar qualities within to 
 render it individual in character. How quickly 
 one's heart goes out to some pretty structure 
 nestled back among trees, with grass and flowers 
 as a foreground, and approached by a winding 
 walk which seems to suggest that strangers are not 
 easily admitted into the sanctuary beyond ! The 
 passionate love of a child for a tree is something 
 that not every one understands. If he is happy 
 enough to own a yard and a tree nature is his fos- 
 ter-mother, and if orphaned elsewhere, he finds a 
 home. Perhaps most of us would find, on looking 
 back, that some of our happiest recollections clus- 
 ter about a spot where trees, water, and grass 
 made the beauty and pleasure of the scene. 
 
 And if we may not do more to meet the instinc- 
 tive child-longing for Nature's companionship, let 
 us give him a garden planted in a box. With seeds, 
 roots, and earth he may persuade himself that he 
 is a landowner. A living pet, too, is an important 
 element of home life. There is such reality, such a 
 suggestion of primitive, simple existence about the 
 domestic animals, that they often comfort a child 
 when the world becomes too hard for him to un- 
 derstand.
 
 When Emerson protested against the irrationality of a 
 " cachinnating human being," he surely did not mean to 
 include the merry outburst of a child. It comes to me now, 
 as I sit at my window, that sweet, high peal of irrepressible 
 delight, accompanied by the clapping of tiny hands, and there 
 is brought back to me, with a swift rush of memories, a time 
 when one sweet little voice and one blithesome young spirit 
 made music in a home that is quiet enough now, with the 
 disturbing element of childish frolic and mischief gone — 
 forever. " Strange we never miss the music till the sweet- 
 voiced bird has flown." A thousand times within the first 
 few happy years of a child's life we say " Hush," and in the 
 long quiet years that come afterward we would give all we 
 are worth to hear again the little voice we then stilled.
 
 Natural Religion 
 
 Beneath the gross superstitions of savages are 
 many poetical fancies, unsuspected even by them- 
 selves. Stripped of all the hideous ceremonies that 
 appal the missionary, there is a great, broad, free 
 sweep of the undisciplined imagination that 
 catches from space a few of those wonder- 
 ful outline pictures of faith from which educated 
 minds shrink in affright. The concession made 
 that only " fools rush in " hallowed places involves 
 the condemnation of all the great religious reform- 
 ers. Rather it is the timidity of angels which has 
 permitted moss to grow on the pathway to heaven. 
 
 The children of nature, fierce and vicious in their 
 conceptions of mutual relations among themselves, 
 and cowardly in their abject worship of a deity sup- 
 posed to be equally vicious, nevertheless strike 
 straight through the clouds of doubt to the light 
 beyond, in their innocent appropriation of the one 
 great privilege that constitutes the whole of relig- 
 ious life — bold, frank intercourse with God. Their 
 mode of carrying on this intercourse is usually ig- 
 noble, in rare cases singularly beautiful ; the fire 
 
 kindled in the damp bog and that lit on the clean 
 
 ai
 
 22 Natural Religion 
 
 hillside send up respectively rolls of murky smoke 
 and feathery gray flames, yet both roll upward, and 
 the vital spark is beneath. That is the one impor- 
 tant fact. 
 
 Whatever is young is in the stage of savagery, 
 and along with lack of the virtues which come of 
 refinement, possesses the primal virtue of faith. 
 The children of our hearths watching the glow of 
 dusky diamonds in the grate of burnished steel, 
 neither see nor think of any of the processes of 
 mining and hauling, of laying and igniting, that 
 the luxurious house owner has commanded to be 
 done : they see the clear forest flame, bask in the 
 warmth, and seize from the gnome-figures that 
 dance up the chimney that subtle something 
 thrown from their flying wings which, like a dash 
 of gold dust, glorifies all surroundings. And then 
 their vivacious minds, having received the impetus, 
 are off on a chase after the flying sprites, to the 
 wild-wood, to caverns, mountain tops, and amidst 
 clouds ; and there, uplifted above earthly fetters 
 of doubt, they pursue their fearless inquiry into 
 the unknown. 
 
 In the dusk of a fair autumn twilight the rising 
 moon often peeps down on some little face pressed 
 close against the glass, gazing out with all his heart 
 in his eyes and sensing with an instinct as yet un- 
 dulled, that great Presence mature, world-spoiled
 
 Natural Religion 23 
 
 minds vainly seek to find. ' The sky is my relig- 
 ion," said once a sensitive, fanciful child, given to 
 solitary musing. She used to watch, with fascin- 
 ated attention, the play of light on the shifting 
 clouds at sunset, and a wild storm filled her with 
 delight because it gave her the feeling that the still 
 Power always about her was become vigilant, ac- 
 tive, alive. 
 
 The natural religion of childhood is simple faith 
 in God. Before theologies confuse, and contradic- 
 tory teachings depress their understanding, they 
 hold innocent, happy communion with the life of 
 the world as revealed in nature. The saturnine 
 temperament has little need or desire for it, and 
 yet, even to such is given some of this wonderful 
 experience. A gleam of light, a touch of grace 
 flits across the period, and what is due to youth 
 comes to every soul that enters the world young, 
 fresh, and impressionable. And so penetrating, so 
 enduring is this influence that some remnant of it 
 survives all the materialism that grows around our 
 thoughts and opinions, as the years go by. 
 
 It is asserted, and it is one of those truisms no 
 one can successfully dispute, because his own na- 
 ture upholds it, that no man is really an atheist. 
 Whatever he may declare, some memory, long 
 since overgrown and seemingly dead, starts up 
 with a soft whisper of that day in his early child-
 
 24 Natural Religion 
 
 hood when he looked with awe at the sea, the 
 storm, or the sunset, and recognized the presence 
 of God. This direct recognition comes only to 
 the simple mind, whether it be lodged in the child 
 or in the octogenarian. Whoever can discover the 
 hilltop where the air celestial is whirled about as 
 a circular wind which never rises nor descends far, 
 is privileged to breathe the ether which for the 
 time makes him more than human : whoever can 
 see in a tree, a stone, a cloud, not these mere ob- 
 jects, but the spirit that lives in them and beyond 
 them, knows the ecstasy of faith. 
 
 Men have made religions, but it was not in their 
 power to either make or alter religion : that is 
 something that exists only between the believer 
 and his Deity. It is a matter of feeling, not of 
 knowledge, and the sensitive child has more of it 
 than his worldly parents. He may not care for 
 catechisms, may pick flaws in his Sunday-school 
 lessons, and fall out with his teacher about Old 
 Testament history and New Testament miracles. 
 
 These are small matters, and modern society has 
 the good sense to laugh at them. But the same 
 young sceptic who satirically questioned the possi- 
 bility of five thousand being fed by the five loaves 
 and two fishes, will be thrilled by the whistled 
 message the keen winter air brings him when he 
 dances along the woodpath, and he will hold his
 
 Natural Religion 25 
 
 breath with awe as he passes some weird stump 
 which uplifts skinny arms to the sky in posture of 
 devout praise. Straight through the fortresses of 
 words which the subtlety of man has erected 
 around creeds the child dives to the great secret — 
 God is life ; life is God. When the wind blows, 
 stars twinkle, sap flows, or plants unfold their pet- 
 als, he sees the manifestation of a supreme power. 
 He believes without an instant's hesitancy that 
 God sees him always ; is everywhere, within him 
 and without ; but this power is protean, multiform ; 
 it enwraps him and inspires him; he belongs to it, 
 and it to him. 
 
 This communion is broken into and demoralized 
 by life experiences, and especially by over-zealous 
 instructors to whom natural religion is less pure 
 and beautiful than that which has been stamped 
 by the sanction of a special father of the church. 
 We cavil with the child over a trifling incident in 
 the life of Joseph or of Job, and waste in mere dis- 
 cussion the divine trust in the truth and justice of 
 the creative Power he unconsciously adores. Here, 
 as everywhere, we think more of our own mechan- 
 ical efforts than of the child's purity of heart. Nei- 
 ther evil nor virtue exist as knowledge within his 
 mind, but as inclinations, which could never be- 
 come concrete acts if circumstances, including 
 tutors, did not rush eagerly to seek to enlighten
 
 26 Natural Religion 
 
 him. But if virtue involves knowing and choos- 
 ing, faith has to do only with feeling. And here 
 the child is superior to his master. In the daylight 
 and in the dark glow ever-living reflections of the 
 beautiful picture stamped on his soul in that indefi- 
 nite past when it was part of the All-Soul and 
 breathed the celestial breath of the upper air. 
 
 We give the child — words. Let us recollect that 
 we can give him words only. There are in his in- 
 most heart some exquisite beliefs that he may 
 never be able to express, but that comfort and sus- 
 tain him more than we are comforted by our 
 rational, measured creeds. The world commits no 
 grosser robbery than when it robs the pure, aspir- 
 ing spirit of a child of its strangely simple, yet 
 wildly imaginative, pantheistic belief. It is the 
 germ of the good, the true, the beautiful, for him, 
 and if uncrushed, and with its delicate perfume 
 preserved he carries it on into a period when in- 
 tellectual convictions and knowledge of his hu- 
 manitarian relations obtain their reasonable place 
 in his mind, his life will be the brighter, the fuller, 
 and the nobler, because of the sense of childlike 
 trust that is the first and best gift to man.
 
 As an only child, Daisy was much in the company of her 
 parents and a lively young aunt who made one of the family, 
 and she was so demure a little mite that they often forgot 
 that she was present and spoke of things before her which 
 they would not have chosen for her to hear. She was about 
 seven years old when there began to come to the house a 
 tall, neutral-tinted young man, to whom her bluff father took 
 a dislike, speaking of him in privacy to her mother as a 
 " stick," and even going so far as to wonder what interest 
 Marian could have in " flirting with a stick." Daisy heard, 
 and in her quiet way began to watch the visitor, but saw 
 nothing to enlighten her as to what her father could mean 
 until one evening as there was quite a company assembled 
 in the parlor, her aunt Marian playfully took up a maul- 
 stick that lay on an easel, and, while she talked to her 
 soi-disant admirer, balanced it on her finger. A light of in- 
 telligence came into pretty little Daisy's eyes, and, approach- 
 ing the group, she said earnestly, " Oh, auntie, I know now 
 what papa meant by your flirting with a stick; I didn't 
 know before!" and she was greatly surprised at the fiery 
 color which overspread the young man's face and at the 
 hasty manner in which her aunt sent her off to bed.
 
 Honesty and Politeness 
 
 Always in a refined community there are some 
 individuals who have a natural antagonism to 
 manners. One child in a household of well-bred 
 brothers and sisters may feel such a contempt for 
 breeding as to cultivate its resentful opposite — 
 brusqueness. Sincerity has often an unbending 
 pride of its own, and insists upon pressing knobs 
 against the flesh of those who love a cushiony sur- 
 face. 
 
 Certain young persons, feeling vaguely a per- 
 vading discontent with an environment too gentle 
 for their bold spirits, are made aware for the first 
 time of what ails them when they open the pages of 
 history. How they delight in the rough humor of 
 Richard the lion-hearted, and how vehemently they 
 approve the fearles.-, barons, innocent of courtly 
 graces and dealing forth bluff words like blows. 
 They tolerate Bayard for his bravery, but think his 
 French courtesy a little overdone, while they have 
 no sympathy with the sacrifice of the gallant Ral- 
 eigh's cloak. Imitating well-beloved Robin Hood 
 
 28
 
 Honesty and Politeness 29 
 
 they indulge in a rough sort of protection toward 
 the younger ones in school, and are happy if they 
 can gain a reputation for " taking the part of the 
 under dog in the fight." The old Saxon lawless- 
 ness peeps out in these sturdy young shoots. No 
 banner gives such liberty as truth, and independ- 
 ent natures gravitate thereto without knowing 
 how much their devotion is owing to the privilege 
 of bearing arms against the entire world. 
 
 Few young people's heroines have ever had the 
 success of Miss Alcott's " Jo." That rowdy damsel 
 struck the warm chord of sympathy in thousands 
 of little hearts rebellious against custom. She was 
 one of the pioneers of the modern sentiment of 
 girlish independence, which has grown in the last 
 decade with mushroom rapidity. The existence of 
 so lovable a rebel and free-thinker sanctioned the 
 blunt speech which liberty-loving spirits are prone 
 to indulge. Fastidious mothers are at a loss how 
 to deal with the little daughters who take against 
 social usages the high stand of honesty. Many a 
 woman quails before the wide-open, innocent eyes 
 that flash forth this righteous scorn, and feels her- 
 self hypocritical in the midst of her perplexed con- 
 viction that her child must be taught conformity. 
 
 Politeness — that exquisite politeness that breaks 
 no rules, that carries itself as if society was a tender 
 infant, to be soothed and humored — is a shield for
 
 30 Honesty and Politeness 
 
 sensitive souls more invulnerable than the hide of 
 Achilles. But those who need it most often oppose 
 the protection it offers. They expose themselves 
 to hurts, finding consolation in the idea that the 
 persecution is " for righteousness sake "; that the 
 world is false and grovelling and they the cham- 
 pions of truth. 
 
 What mistaken chivalry and false logic ! We 
 would have these youthful scorners of social law 
 turn to Emerson's essay on " Behavior," and there 
 read what the white-souled prophet of truth, the 
 incorruptible and unsparing critic of society, says 
 about the necessity of even that fine and delicate 
 polish which it might be supposed so great a mind 
 would have ignored if it were possible for any to 
 do so with impunity. " The power of manners," 
 he admonishes, " is incessant — an element as un- 
 concealable as fire. No man can resist their in- 
 fluence. There are certain manners which are 
 learned in good society, of that force that if a per- 
 son have them he or she must be considered, and 
 is everywhere welcome, though without beauty, or 
 wealth, or genius." We cannot understand this to 
 mean that thin veneering of politeness with which 
 minds naturally coarse glaze over their real indiffer- 
 ence to the feelings of others. This is the " French 
 polish " that cracks under exposure to atmospheric 
 changes, not genuine breeding. Our young enthu-
 
 Honesty and Politeness 31 
 
 siasts are so far right that truth is the basis of fine 
 manners. But truth should be at rest, serene, se- 
 cure in its own strength. Its time will come. Above 
 all else the world wants this same truth, and some 
 day it will turn to the silent one in the corner and 
 beg for the secret whose possession is betrayed by 
 the luminous brow and expressive eyes. Then the 
 triumph is all with him. There is the surprise of 
 finding him right, of seeing him strong, and after 
 this he is courted. I have seen a great statesman 
 leave his side of the table and come around to talk 
 to a modest little maiden of ten, drawn solely by 
 the silent charm of the child's manner. 
 
 Society tolerates popinjays in the same way that 
 it applauds the comic opera. These fools only 
 amuse ; they are the toys of the hour and flung 
 away when done with. But what it loves is power, 
 and no other quality can successfully simulate it. 
 The one unmistakable evidence of power is repose. 
 This is so sure that he who has that gracious aspect 
 is accused of concealing rare accomplishments un- 
 der a quiet exterior. Some force there must be in 
 the individual, or he cannot achieve a good man- 
 ner. If he has no talent he must have a belief, a 
 great affection; anything sufficient to lift him out 
 of personal pettiness. 
 
 Personalities are an instant admission of inferior- 
 ity. For this reason a child should be taught first
 
 32 Honesty and Politeness 
 
 of all not to talk of himself. Let him know that re- 
 serve inspires respect, and that in relating family 
 history he is doing the thing of all others he would 
 least wish to do — cheapening his position. But to 
 put it so that a child can understand, we should 
 say that the affairs of a household are a sacred trust 
 with its members, and that his own actions only 
 concern an outsider at the point where they touch 
 him. Children are not born gossips. They report 
 what they see and hear of people only when en- 
 couraged. They would far rather talk of the cat, 
 the birds, the flowers, and the museum, if left to 
 their free choice. But it is essential that they know 
 when to talk and when to be silent, and this is 
 hardest of all. The old rule, " Speak when spoken 
 to," has the great defect that it kills grace. A sup- 
 pressed child makes a stiff man or woman. 
 
 Much of the ungainliness of bearing which con- 
 stitutes a stumbling-block to many admirable men 
 and women is the result of an autocratic govern- 
 ment which constrained them, as children, to be pas- 
 sive and inanimate in the presence of their elders. 
 As a witty writer observes, " their animal spirits 
 were flat-ironed out of them." One may emerge 
 from this discipline with an irritable bearing which 
 gives every expression an appearance of insistance, 
 as if the person said to himself: " I have a right 
 and this time I will be heard." It is better to im-
 
 Honesty and Politeness 33 
 
 press upon the child that he may speak freely 
 whenever he has anything interesting to say to the 
 company, but, if he finds that he is wearying others, 
 to stop. If his fact or fancy has any value there is 
 some one who will like to hear it some time. Let 
 him study to be opportune, for that is the secret of 
 tact. 
 
 It is a pity that the majority of our young people 
 divide into these two classes: they are either noisy 
 or stiff. Both are signs of selfishness ; the one per- 
 mitted expression, the other restrained through 
 pride. The one divine power possessed by mortals 
 is love. Every one who has achieved any sort of in- 
 fluence over mankind has either been actuated by 
 some form of love, or has pretended to be. Social 
 leaders have this for the first principle of their 
 creed. They assume an interest in you, and cour- 
 teously put themselves in the background. Who 
 has not at some time in his life been charmed by 
 that delicious look of interest, that cordial, wel- 
 coming touch of the hand which subtly conveyed 
 the impression that he was of consequence in dis- 
 criminating eyes ? One such momentary meeting 
 is recollected with pleasure throughout years. This 
 may be counterfeit, but the virtue of it is that it 
 appears real. 
 
 And real love — human, brotherly feeling — is 
 what the world wants. The fiat is that if you have
 
 34 Honesty and Politeness 
 
 it not you must simulate it. We are not to make 
 our children deceitful. Their guileless hearts only 
 need be encouraged to love. They have as a 
 birthright the essence of the most exquisite cour- 
 tesy. What they need is to be trained how to ex- 
 press it. Let us be sure that we ourselves know 
 that which we essay to teach them. Some children 
 are deliberately trained to be awkward and un- 
 couth by being made self-conscious through inces- 
 sant admonition. 
 
 Awkwardness is a social crime; so black a crime 
 that there is a temptation to call it a moral enor- 
 mity. If to please is a virtue then smooth motions, 
 graceful postures, musical tones, are accomplish- 
 ments to be conscientiously acquired. We are do- 
 ing more for our son than his Latin tutor does 
 when we teach him to enter and leave a room well, 
 and to sit at ease among our guests. What a wealth 
 of learning that girl will need to compensate for 
 her awkwardness, if she cannot open her lips with- 
 out startling the nerves of the company, or move 
 over the floor without upsetting something in her 
 path. If she had any appreciation of the beautiful 
 x harmonies under which Nature conceals her most 
 powerful operations, she would know that to be 
 abrupt is to be weak; that uncouthness and insig- 
 nificance are twins. Let us, then, teach our chil- 
 dren smoothness ; how to join one movement to
 
 Honesty and Politeness 35 
 
 another ; how to lead from topic to topic ; how to 
 be graceful, gentle, and self-possessed. Develop in 
 them the desire to please, and all the minor social 
 virtues will the more readily follow.
 
 Childhood is the proper time of life for experimenting. 
 Later, we must apply our energies to some one purpose. 
 Therefore, let us encourage children to try to do new things, 
 so that they may learn both what they are able and what 
 they like best to do.
 
 The Choice of a Life Pursuit 
 
 An opinion is gradually gaining ground among 
 experienced parents that the period of school edu- 
 cation is too prolonged. Their sons, they say, leave 
 college at about the age of twenty-two, learned stu- 
 dents perhaps, but so far as practical knowledge of 
 life is concerned, or preparation for any businesss, 
 as ignorant as children. And at this age they have, 
 in a measure, lost their adaptability, so that the 
 choice of a pursuit is made with more than a little 
 trouble; and finally, when made, it involves a spe- 
 cial course of preparation which postpones the pro- 
 ductive period far into the future. 
 
 It is certainly far from my design to advocate 
 the curtailing of education. But why should col- 
 lege training, or any sort of schooling, lead away 
 from the business of life ? It ought, on the con- 
 trary, to conduct towards it. Instead of dissipat- 
 ing the energies of a boy and unfitting him for a 
 career, a proper education should be a perfect 
 equipment for some special pursuit. 
 
 But here we touch the heart of the matter. How 
 can there be preparation for something which is 
 vague and indefinite ? It is impossible to select at 
 
 37
 
 38 The Choice of a Life Pursuit 
 
 random some occupation for a child and bend our 
 efforts toward unfolding the special faculties it 
 will involve, with any certainty that his character, 
 when developed, will justify our choice. In fact, a 
 just parent doubts very much whether he has a 
 rig-ht to impose a calling upon his son, who may 
 thereafter betray a decided aversion to and unfit- 
 ness for it. 
 
 The usual idea has been to supply a broad and 
 general culture and postpone specific training until 
 later. But it is to be remarked that in the great 
 majority of instances the successful men of the 
 world have been those who in early years embraced 
 a special pursuit, from which they never afterwards 
 departed ; while the men who make their choice of 
 occupation at a late period are very apt to be 
 guided by circumstances, probably by immediate 
 necessities, rather than by their peculiar talents. 
 They " drift " into situations, and many a career is 
 spoiled, many a life dwarfed and narrowed by this 
 haphazard method of settling into an occupation. 
 
 The undesirability of either choosing an occupa- 
 tion for our son, early in life, or of permitting him 
 to grow to manhood without having selected one, 
 leaves us but one course, and this the most natural 
 one of any; we ought to consider it a plain duty 
 to aid him in the development of his own powers, 
 so that any strong taste he evinces may serve as
 
 The Choice of a Life Pursuit 
 
 39 
 
 the cine to his training. The perfunctory way of 
 settling a son's destiny by devoting him to a pur- 
 suit his parents have a preference for is not popu- 
 lar with modern parents, although still followed by 
 some nations. Dickens' two indolent, good-for- 
 naught characters, Mortimer Lightwood and Eu- 
 gene Wrayburn, in accounting for their failures, 
 observe to one another that the reason they are in 
 their present box is because their lives were ar- 
 ranged for them. " My respected father," remarks 
 Wrayburn, " put me to the study of the law be- 
 cause it was understood that they wanted a bar- 
 rister in the family — and they have got a precious 
 one." Certain parents are so bent upon possessing 
 in the family talent of a certain order that they 
 twist every indication of capacity into something 
 that confirms their wish. This is more injurious to 
 a child than neglect. If we cannot aid his develop- 
 ment, we should at least do what we can not to 
 hinder it. 
 
 There are exceptional natures which show at an 
 early age one decided inclination which points un- 
 mistakably to a particular pursuit. All we have to 
 do in these cases is to defer to our child's talent, 
 and put him in the way of developing it. But or- 
 dinarily, the children even of talented parents are 
 undecided in their tastes, and either devote them- 
 selves to one thing after another, and with equal
 
 4o The Choice of a Life Pursuit 
 
 ardor, or Show listlessness concerning- everything. 
 And the years pass in the aimless acquisition of 
 book-lore. 
 
 There is much to be said in favor of the early 
 choice of an occupation over what is usually termed 
 a complete education. Where a boy is reared to 
 some special pursuit there is a concentration of en- 
 ergies otherwise dissipated. Without burdening 
 him prematurely with a sense of responsibility it is 
 well to encourage him to think about the matter 
 and learn to know himself and find out what he is 
 fitted for. An intelligent, disinterested parent who 
 studies his child from infancy with a view to right 
 training, will seldom fail to find signs to guide him. 
 And the boy whose mind has fixed itself upon a def- 
 inite aim has thenceforth an anchor to stay him 
 amidst all the temptations to indolence. Work for 
 a purpose is worth something, and the only sort 
 that has a permanent hold upon us. 
 
 The belief so prevalent even as late as fifty years 
 ago, that it mattered very little what sort of busi- 
 ness a man gave his attention to, so that he gave 
 it, has been displaced at length by a more correct 
 view of the decisive nature of propensity. Dr. 
 Johnson's view was that a true genius is a man of 
 large general powers accidentally determined to a 
 particular direction. But if. as Macaulay observed, 
 " happiness is the free exercise of the mind in pur-
 
 The Choice of a Life Pursuit 41 
 
 suits congenial to it," there is a great waste of nerv- 
 ous energy in the forcible application of the mind 
 to a business that contains no element of enjoy- 
 ment. A large portion of life is spent in work, and 
 it is dooming the worker to a vast amount of at 
 least negative misery to bind him to what he is not 
 naturally drawn toward. 
 
 For this reason we should hesitate to urge upon 
 a young man or woman a career from motives of 
 mere expediency; especially if there is a strong 
 desire present for some other pursuit. Any honest 
 work that there is a liking for should have the pref- 
 erence over all other sorts, even if they are more 
 distinguished or promise more advantage. For 
 what the worker's heart is in he will do' well. And 
 if he is so happily constituted that he can make 
 himself enthusiastic in a vocation he was origi- 
 nally disinclined toward, we may be sure that the 
 quality of enthusiasm would have been so much 
 magnified in something answering to his native 
 bias as to have carried him to a greater measure of 
 success. 
 
 The excessive strain endured by men in the 
 competition of business would be less if there was 
 not a long and steady wear upon their powers of 
 endurance to tell against them in a crisis. If every 
 morning there is a slight struggle to settle down to 
 labors that are distasteful, the end of the year
 
 42 The Choice of a Life Pursuit 
 
 would reveal, if we could read the record of the 
 mind, a marked depletion of the vital forces. It is 
 through overcoming difficulties that we grow 
 strong, but it is not through overcoming instincts 
 of dislike. Unpleasant details are lightly vaulted 
 by the spirit which is buoyed up by the sense of a 
 great pleasure in the work as a whole.
 
 Children are apt to classify unfamiliar articles after an odd 
 fashion. For instance, a little boy of two years was intro- 
 duced to a farm where there was a black dog running about 
 in the barn-yard among the chickens, most of which were 
 white. He looked in the hens' nests and took notes, silently 
 pondering many things. On coming into the house his at- 
 tention was drawn to a black "darning egg" in his mother's 
 work-basket, and with his eyes glowing with astonishment 
 he cried, "Oh, mamma, is that a bow-wop's (dog's) egg?"
 
 The City Child in the Country 
 
 Among the many families wbo take their summer 
 vacation at watering-places, more or less fashion- 
 able and expensive, there are some who seek out 
 quiet and unfrequented country spots where they 
 may be at ease and somewhat exclusive. Parents 
 who wish to give their children a chance to relax 
 and recuperate from school restraints do well to 
 take them into the " real country " where there are 
 not only hills and meadows and woods, but cows, 
 chickens, wild pigeons and squirrels, and all the 
 myriad creatures that live close to nature's heart. 
 
 Life will be a frolic while they dwell with their 
 humbler kindred and get on terms of intimacy with 
 the sly creatures that hide in wood and stream. 
 What baby that can toddle out to a sand heap and 
 scoop it up with his tiny fingers was ever known to 
 fret ? Or what child teases its mother, that has 
 learned the way to the barn and is allowed to ride 
 on the haymow and to feed the chickens ? Espe- 
 cially blessed privilege to city children, who realize 
 then, if never before, the pleasure of self-reliance 
 and of helpfulness, and the charm of out-door life. 
 
 44
 
 City Child in the Country 45 
 
 But with these advantages there is another op- 
 portunity of some importance, that is apt to be for- 
 gotten. There are many more sorts of knowledge 
 and virtue than any one person is acquainted with, 
 and yet we usually exhibit little desire to cultivate 
 what lies outside of our daily experience. A person 
 to be much esteemed must wear our kind of 
 clothes and know the thing we have studied. 
 Otherwise we have no use for him. Yet common 
 sense ought to teach us to seek rather for useful- 
 ness, the person who is unlike ourselves. 
 
 The man who goes to Paris and lives in the 
 midst of a little community of his American ac- 
 quaintances, talking over at night the oddities of 
 the Frenchmen he has been casually thrown with 
 during the day, and ending with the self-gratula- 
 tion that he is not as they, profits little by his trip. 
 He might as well have sat by his own fireside and 
 read Hamerton's criticisms upon our transatlantic 
 cousins. To gain something he should have aimed 
 to enter into their lives and habits, to have assimi- 
 lated with them and tried to penetrate their point 
 of view. So do all the wise and curious explorers 
 to strange countries. And the result of their travel 
 is the infusion of new blood and vitality into their 
 brains ; it is like doubling one's personality. Nar- 
 row minds are always consciously and intentionally 
 exclusive ; their fear of contact with strangers
 
 \d City Child in the Country 
 
 shows that they have a weak hold upon what they 
 claim as their own; they may be dispossessed. 
 
 But there is another soft of exclusiveness which 
 is not voluntary nor self-conscious ; it is the re- 
 serve of a fine nature which keeps its pearls in their 
 deep casket until a connoisseur happens by, and 
 then reveals them with frank confidence. And such 
 a nature, not needing guards because no one can 
 rob him, loves to find points of contact between 
 himself and his fellows, and when with them enters 
 into their feelings and thoughts and shares their 
 experiences as far as he may, that he may be the 
 wiser. Nor does he scorn to share his own, for he 
 feels that his larger opportunities confer an obliga- 
 tion upon him to enlarge the mental scope and in- 
 crease the charm for happiness of all who have 
 been less privileged. 
 
 How speedily a single grain of good feeling de- 
 molishes false social barriers ! There are enough, 
 God wot, that no effort can demolish and that must 
 wait the slow action of centuries. This sponta- 
 neous feeling of an unspoiled child leads him 
 straight over the hedges our conventional preju- 
 dices erect for him. And before stopping that flight 
 which is the outcome of a kind and true impulse 
 we had better consider whether even policy is not 
 on his side. In the matter suggested, of his sum- 
 mer vacation in the country, there occurs the pos-
 
 City Child in the Country 47 
 
 sibility of his intercourse with his unknown coun- 
 try cousins — cousins upon the ground of our com- 
 mon humanity, not in blood. 
 
 The farmers' little children who run about in the 
 rear yards, barefooted and ragged perhaps, since 
 their mothers are making pies for boarders instead 
 of mending clothes, are looked upon very often by 
 these city boarders as barbarians who are to be 
 avoided by their own carefully clad and more pret- 
 tily appearing children. But may it not be that 
 these despised young people hold certain treasures 
 of knowledge and experience which the city-bred 
 children would be greatly benefited by sharing ? 
 Who know better than they, the haunts of squirrel 
 and wild fowl, the ways of insects, and the wiles of 
 the wary fish ? Who can discriminate so readily 
 between the poisonous plant and the harmless wild 
 flower, or lead the way to the prettiest and most 
 secret haunts in the woods ? And more than this 
 they can give lessons in endurance, simplicity, and 
 enterprise; their harder lives have taught them self- 
 dependence and resource, and those little brown 
 hands can row a boat over the tossing waves of 
 the bay, and those bare feet find a safe route 
 through prickly pine and jagged stones, without 
 fear or hesitancy. 
 
 These are things worth knowing how to do, and 
 it is worth while for our book-learned boys and
 
 48 City Child in the Country 
 
 girls to toss on old straw hats and common shoes 
 — if they must wear shoes — and follow country 
 John and Mary over the farm and into the pine 
 groves, listening with attention to what they have 
 to tell about the strange, new things which are 
 every-day matters to them. These are object-les- 
 sons, the value of which we cannot calculate, al- 
 though we can greatly increase it by talking over 
 with the children their interesting experiences, ex- 
 amining the treasures they will be sure to bring in, 
 and giving, in a few happy words, a scientific clas- 
 sification to their miscellaneous collection. The 
 chances are that in a short time they will have gone 
 beyond us, and know more than we do, unless we 
 make an effort to keep ahead. But while we are 
 profiting by the kindness of our little country 
 friends, let us not forget that we owe them some- 
 thing in return. Airs of superiority, ill at any time, 
 are most ungrateful here. As they frankly take us 
 into their lives, let us as frankly reciprocate. What 
 can we do for them ? 
 
 To the farmers' children who receive for the first 
 time a family from the city, their guests are objects 
 of curiosity and a little awe. They shyly hang 
 about watching their coming and going and gazing 
 at their pretty clothes and paraphernalia, waiting 
 meanwhile for that significant word or look which 
 shall give the indelible stamp to their rank, and
 
 City Child in the Country 49 
 
 either confirm liking or inspire dislike. They are 
 conscious of that indefinable atmosphere city-bred 
 people carry with them, and with true American 
 respect for knowledge are quite ready to admire 
 and imitate their guests wherever they shall show 
 themselves superior. 
 
 No one appreciates a polished manner and gen- 
 tle bearing more than the rustic child, but his per- 
 ception is keen as Ithuriel's spear to detect the 
 true from the false, and patronage is an intolerable 
 affront. He craves the favor and friendship of cul- 
 tivated minds, but cannot buy it at the sacrifice of 
 his sturdy self-respect. Neither will he esteem the 
 person who is so unwise as to relax from his nat- 
 ural dignity into rude joviality and condescend- 
 ing fellowship. Many people make this mistake. 
 This is cheating our country friends out of the ad- 
 vantages they have a right to expect from inter- 
 course with us, and showing them the cheap glitter 
 of pinchbeck instead of the jewel's lustre of good- 
 breeding. That is what they want — the inspiration 
 of our broader knowledge and the example of our 
 more cultivated speech and manner; not given in 
 the pedagogical spirit, but as a fair exchange for 
 their own homely but as valuable lore. 
 
 But alas ! a good heart cannot be bought at the 
 outfitters' shop along with lawn-tennis shirts and 
 shoes, and to the traveller who has that already
 
 50 City Child in the Country 
 
 these suggestions will convey nothing new. Yet it 
 will be well to impress upon our children that while 
 they go into the country to " rough it " for awhile, 
 they are not to become " roughs " ; that they are 
 not to lay aside their good manners, nor to fall into 
 slipshod habits that will dishonor their up-bring- 
 ing quite as much in the eyes of their country crit- 
 ics as in those of their drawing-room friends. 
 
 We should try to teach them that equality and 
 brotherhood do not consist in laying aside differ- 
 ences, but in forgetting that they exist. For in the 
 natural and acquired differences between persons 
 lie great opportunities of mutual advantage. How 
 delightful human intercourse would become if each 
 one, without losing hold of the light and knowledge 
 peculiar to his own experience, did full justice to 
 the light and knowledge of others ! We can begin 
 this with our children by encouraging them in 
 sympathy, consideration, and simplicity in their 
 treatment of all their chance companions.
 
 The unselfish parent is rarely cursed with hard-hearted 
 children, and in a household where love presides there will 
 be thoughtfulness for the poor. A happy child is usually 
 full of pity and solicitude for his wretched brothers of the 
 street, and with a little encouragement he readily forms a 
 habit of setting apart some of his provision for them. Alas ! 
 that we should call such kindness charity; in a future age 
 it will be a necessity of our peace and comfort to have con- 
 tributed toward the welfare of those whose moral right to 
 the happiness we enjoy is not less than our own. A true- 
 hearted child feels this; he is not naturally a monopolist, 
 and until his feelings become blunted he thinks it only just 
 that he should aid in making happiness for others. But 
 while we encourage generosity, it will be well to refrain from 
 directing it. Free will must lie at the basis of all worthy 
 effort.
 
 Happiness and Duty 
 
 It will help us very much in the moral culture of 
 our children to analyze in ourselves the reasons for 
 our own choice of conduct. Probably it will be 
 found upon honest scrutiny, that we are in general 
 led to do things because it was advisable, expe^- 
 dient to do them, because by doing them more en- 
 joyment would come to us in the long run than if 
 we did something else. The first impelling motive 
 to any act is pleasure; there never could have been 
 any growth if this were not so. Afterwards it may 
 be made habitual from various reasons ; duty, be- 
 neficence, profit are all of avail, but they are rather 
 the chains that bind us to certain courses than the 
 flowery fragrance that attracted us toward them. 
 
 Many habits have become fixed in us by the time 
 we are grown and we forget how we were led to ac- 
 quire them. But upon looking back it certainly will 
 appear that those habits that have adhered to us 
 were associated in the beginning with some sort of 
 pleasure, either inherent in the act itself or coming 
 as a reward for performing it. Whatever we were 
 made to do, with pain and discomfort to ourselves, 
 is obnoxious to us in our maturer years, and when 
 
 52
 
 Happiness and Duty 53 
 
 we become our own law-givers we abandon all 
 such ways and choose others more congenial and 
 that lead to more pleasing results. 
 
 If this has been the course of our development 
 we may expect it to be the same with our children. 
 From all our precepts and teaching an instinctive 
 selection will be made of the most agreeable, and 
 these will have a thousandfold more influence and 
 weight than all the rest. It is, as some one ob- 
 serves, easy as down-hill walking to persuade peo- 
 ple to do what they like to do. But why do they 
 like certain things more than others, except be- 
 cause the first performance of them was in some 
 way made agreeable ? 
 
 Says Professor James: ' In the acquisition of a 
 new habit, we must take care to launch ourselves 
 with as strong an initiative as possible;" and what is 
 stronger than enjoyment ? Here we have the great 
 secret of good government : make the first per- 
 formance of every act which it is desirable to es- 
 tablish as a habit in the child's life, agreeable to 
 him. Our authority is given us that we may impel 
 the child while he is yet flexible and docile, toward 
 the course of conduct that will be beneficial in his 
 maturity, and we ought to bend most of our en- 
 ergy toward working for what will be permanent 
 with him. Many matters that we are most zealous 
 about are affairs of the moment, affecting him only
 
 54 Happiness and Duty 
 
 for the hour, and ourselves more than him. We 
 waste a great deal of strength in training him in 
 knowledge that he will throw off the instant he is 
 his own master. And yet these early years that are 
 so precious are also so few that they scarcely suffice 
 for laying the basis for his true and essential after- 
 education. 
 
 To prevent evil acts the attention must be di- 
 rected toward right acts. The authority that con- 
 tents itself with being merely preventive is practi- 
 cally useless. If life is at one period made a matter 
 of negation it will be riotously positive when the 
 individual is freed from restraint. The boy and girl 
 who have been brought up on a diet of "don't" will 
 have a fierce appetite for their own way merely be- 
 cause their fund of energy has been suppressed and 
 is bound to exert itself when it becomes possible. 
 And this self-will, for being vehement, will be the 
 less judicious. But if from infancy there has been 
 permitted a proper play of energy and excellent 
 qualities have been developed through the free 
 and joyous performance of right acts, the character 
 will have attained an equipoise that makes it able 
 easily to resist the temptation to every sort of ex- 
 cess. Duty that has never been made disagreeable 
 is attractive enough to rival dissipations. 
 
 But some specific application of a general rule is 
 usually necessary to make its value apparent. Take,
 
 Happiness and Duty $$ 
 
 then, the instance of hospitality; and let us con- 
 sider how best to imbue our children with a feeling 
 which is not only necessary to harmony in our 
 homes while they are little, but to their social wel- 
 fare throughout their lives. Both for their sakes 
 and our own we wish them to be polite toward our 
 guests, to be able to make themselves agreeable 
 and even entertaining, for nothing is more delight- 
 ful than a little child playing gracefully the part of 
 host or hostess. It is hardly to be expected that 
 before they have conceived any idea of the obliga- 
 tion resting upon them they will heartily enter into 
 the duty of hospitality. And to enforce this upon 
 them in the beginning as a duty, is to arouse a dis- 
 like for it. A certain gentleman, whose wife was no- 
 tably hospitable, gave her, during their wedded 
 lives, extreme pain by his churlishness toward 
 guests. He was never able to overcome his dislike 
 of company through an ineffaceable impression 
 made in his childhood by the horde of hungry 
 ministers who were wont to troop to his father's 
 table and usurp the children's places and share of 
 good things. His politeness always bore a tinge 
 of reminiscent distrust. 
 
 We must feel our way daintily to a child's under- 
 standing and not shock him at the first approach. 
 A situation must be brought down to his level be- 
 fore he can enter into it. What joy it is to a little
 
 56 Happiness and Duty 
 
 creature to live at the first in a little world; to have 
 scenes presented to him in miniature and learn 
 ethics through his relations with other creatures 
 that are little like himself. We have learned our 
 duties toward men and women in just such ways 
 as these, and the virtues and graces we possess 
 were gained through the exercise of very trivial im- 
 pulses. 
 
 If we are graciously hospitable it is because we 
 have come to associate pleasure to ourselves with 
 hospitality. Why not direct the development of our 
 children through these natural channels ? They 
 like to have their playmates come to their houses, 
 and in the education of this impulse lies our great 
 opportunity for training them in politeness, for- 
 bearance, generosity, and all the social virtues. 
 They will easily carry into their intercourse with 
 older persons the habits they have acquired natu- 
 rally and with pleasure. But it is the height of tyr- 
 anny to expect a child to be felicitous in his treat- 
 ment of our guests if he has not had the happiness 
 of entertaining company of his own. If he is not 
 pleased his politeness will soon break down, for a 
 child's manners always show the condition of his 
 heart beneath the varnish of breeding.
 
 Women who are lacking in self-control are given to com- 
 plaining to their children about their troubles. They make 
 confidants of them and introduce them prematurely to a 
 realm of care and perplexity. A child is so sympathetic 
 and impressible that he offers a tempting field for the ex- 
 ploiting of little miseries. But he does not come through 
 the experience unhurt. The delicate sensibilities of children 
 are like the tender and exquisite arbutus, which gives forth 
 the sweetest fragrance when it is being crushed to death. 
 We recall an instance where a weak mother, always in pe- 
 cuniary difficulties through her extravagance, formed the 
 habit of disburdening herself to her little son. a sedate, ear- 
 nest lad of ten. He was so deeply affected by the knowledge 
 of her trouble that it preyed upon him constantly, and his 
 great dream was to do something to relieve his mother 
 from her debts. His whole early life was clouded and made 
 unhappy by this indiscreet demand upon his sympathies.
 
 The Dear World of Fancy 
 
 Modern life is the life of the mind and senses; 
 it demands tangible facts, things it can handle and 
 put to a definite use. Once in a while some back- 
 slider from the utilitarian philosophy puts forth a 
 weak plea for more poetry, more leisure, more of 
 that sheen of the imagination which used to light 
 up the dark places in our path before our garish 
 electric burners made the moon obsolete. It may 
 be that this elderly renegade, sitting some evening 
 with his slippered feet on the fender and gazing at 
 his bright coal fire, feels a stir of those torpid 
 nerves which used to thrill sweetly to the touch of 
 fancies now quite forgotten. And the flurry and 
 fume of this closing nineteenth century seem to 
 him a narrowing process, a " closing in " of human 
 nature away from beauty and grace and imagina- 
 tion, and a bartering of the soul's freedom for the 
 security of co-operative existence. Yet, where is 
 there any room, where any time, for those jaunts 
 into cloudland in which Old Leisure used to de- 
 light ? Balloons and flying-machines crowd the 
 thoroughfare to the stars, and a logical explana- 
 tion of all the charming mysteries that once held 
 
 58
 
 The Dear World of Fancy 59 
 
 simpler minds captive, now gives vigor to the scorn 
 of our more enlightened understandings. 
 
 But realism has no advocates among the chil- 
 dren. As they are compelled to drop, one by one, 
 the pretty illusions and fancies of infancy, they feel 
 that they are making an enforced journey away 
 from a pleasant land warm with sunlight, sweet 
 with flowers, into some bleak region where every- 
 thing is cold, formal, and ugly. ' Mamma," says 
 a coaxing little voice, ' there are fairies, aren't 
 there ? ' What wistfulness and pathos in the 
 tone ! Perchance the little one espies, away in the 
 distance, an arid tract toward which his reluctant 
 steps are tending, where bricks and mortar take 
 the place of mossy rocks and fern-covered hollows, 
 and the once silvery voices of his airy playfellows 
 have shrunk altogether out of hearing and their 
 lovely forms out of sight. Dear world of fancy ! 
 There the child, with his pure heart and simple 
 ideas, is at home; he is king amongst the elves and 
 life is a holiday of mirth and frolic. 
 
 But " the old order changeth, giving place to 
 new." The fairies with their garments woven of 
 moonbeams, their dances on midsummer eve, their 
 knightly tournaments and magic wands, have 
 given way to the practical Brownie who travels, in 
 approved tourist style, with knapsack and wallet 
 and a critical air. He scorns the woods and the
 
 60 The Dear World of Fancy 
 
 untrodden places barren of a network of railway, 
 and visits only cities of wealth and modern conven- 
 iences. Our children, bereaved of their fairies 
 and giants, have adopted the Brownies, en masse. 
 
 The humor of Palmer Cox's brilliant creation 
 chimes in precisely with the tendency of the Amer- 
 ican mind. There is something- clear-cut, satisfy- 
 ing, conclusive. The child mind seizes it with avid- 
 ity and goes into fits of enjoyment over the recital 
 of impish wit. Yet, it is a question whether this 
 materialization of youth's cobweb fancies is wholly 
 gratifying. The great advantage of poetry and ro- 
 mance is that it takes us out of familiar and monot- 
 onous surroundings and rests and refreshes by 
 suggesting something beyond the reach of our ex- 
 perience. Children especially need this variety, for 
 there is a riotous element in them that rushes away 
 from the dry details of actual life to claim kinship 
 with that unseen presence that manifests itself to 
 them as positively as heat and cold, houses and 
 money manifest themselves to our minds. 
 
 There is no fear but the coming generation will 
 be practical enough. Why force them to it pre- 
 maturely ? By a curious contradiction a nation 
 which prides itself upon its common sense laments 
 the absence of poets. It is not that material for an 
 epic is lacking, but that the true poetic spirit has 
 been almost brow-beaten out of existence. Our as-
 
 The Dear World of Funcy 6 1 
 
 siduous training of little children, our substitution 
 of formal plays, with " a moral in them," has un- 
 doubtedly done much to crush spontaneity. Ex- 
 cellent as the kindergarten methods are, some in- 
 terpreters of the wise and kind Froebel go too far 
 in their efforts to direct the children's fancies. The 
 mutual confidence between a sympathetic young 
 teacher and her affectionate pupils is beautiful to 
 see, but let her not suppose that she, or any other 
 creature, can completely enter into that sanctuary 
 of the child's soul where fancy dwells. He should 
 have room for those gauzy wings to flutter about 
 and soar off alone, not to be followed by his most 
 intimate friend. 
 
 There are certain old plays, certain old songs 
 which are traditionary among the children. How 
 they are preserved from one generation to another 
 it would be ha^d to tell, for we never find a grown 
 person teaching them. But most of us can look 
 back to " days of yore " when we wore hoods and 
 " tippets " and little shawls, and went out in front 
 of our houses at sundown to meet our comrades 
 and join hands in a ring, and murmur shyly, half 
 afraid lest some profane listener should penetrate 
 our thoughts, old melodies about " London 
 Bridge " and " Thus the farmer," and others. And 
 there was a certain charm in the secrecy and the 
 aloofness from the grown-up world. A natural
 
 The Dear World of Fancy 
 
 child is very shy, and when he is not shy be sure he 
 has lost the grace of a rich imagination. It is a de- 
 plorable loss for which no material advantage in 
 after life can compensate. 
 
 The careful educators who are cutting down the 
 classics to fit the youthful understanding should 
 recollect to leave something for them to reach for- 
 ward to. That \/hich is a little beyond us is a stim- 
 ulant and an inspiration. Probably the bookish 
 youngsters who read Shakespeare and Spenser be- 
 fore they were a dozen years old comprehended 
 only a moiety of what their eyes rested upon, yet 
 because the true and the beautiful is always simple, 
 the atmosphere even of pre-eminent genius was 
 not so rarified to them but they could delight in it 
 and breathe it over again, years after, in memories 
 that were sweet and precious. And so, it seems 
 good that science and mathematics should not 
 drive away romance from the lives of the young. 
 Laboulaye and the " Arabian Nights " have been 
 the solace of many wounded little hearts, and the 
 giants and fairies that people the nurseries at nig'ht 
 when grown-folks are out of the way, have, per- 
 chance, a more soothing influence than all the di- 
 dactical passages in the " children's corner " of cur- 
 rent literature.
 
 " Variety is the spice of life " to grown people, but it is 
 sugar and honey to children. They feel dulness and monot- 
 ony more than their elders because they are far more de- 
 pendent upon what is objective. Movement is necessary to 
 them, a stir and excitement grateful. A certain little boy 
 always danced when he heard eggs beaten or the chopping- 
 knife in operation, liking the rhythm of sound which broke 
 into the quietude of the house. Children are fond of seeing 
 something going on and would rather open the door to a 
 tramp than to have no one come up the steps. " Oh, if 
 something would only happen! " prayed a small maiden suf- 
 fering from a real case of severe ennui which would have 
 been recognized in her mother. Children need recreation 
 because while their bodies are growing their nervous system 
 is tender and excitable. If denied amusement they some- 
 times have a touch of genuine hysteria, the result of morbid 
 blood.
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 
 
 Holiday keeping is one of the excellent cus- 
 toms that we ought never to let pass away from 
 us. The times are never bad enough to justify us 
 in starving our natural instinct for enjoyment. 
 When living becomes wholly a matter of routine 
 we may be sure that some of our nerves are dead, 
 for indifference is the mind's way of putting on 
 mourning. It is not indispensable to holiday keep- 
 ing that we be lavish of money ; the great charm is 
 in making it distinctive, in having the thing on 
 that day that belongs to it alone. There is a felicity 
 in the Christmas tree, the Fourth-of-July fireworks, 
 the picnic on May-day. The well-balanced mind 
 loves rhythm and hails the recurrence of familiar 
 pleasures. 
 
 It is a cruel perversion of human rights that 
 there should be a monopoly at any time upon 
 merrymaking; festivals have their own laws, and 
 should level social barriers. In the South the old 
 negro who cannot buy his Christmas turkey bor- 
 rows one from a neighbor's full barnyard and 
 
 " bresses de Lord " in all simplicity. As our morals 
 
 6 4
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 65 
 
 r— 
 
 improve, our thankfulness diminishes. It may be 
 right that we should endure misery, but some one 
 has done wrong when we have it to endure. 
 
 And some one has done very wrong when chil- 
 dren are miserable, even in the negative form of 
 not being happy. It takes little to make any child 
 happy, if we but understand that, while the young 
 creature seems to be all body, he is in reality nearly 
 all mind. He can be made happy for a whole year 
 merely in the anticipation of a single day. Is not 
 that a cheap purchase of bliss ? But it is ex- 
 acted of us that we, the lawmakers and festival 
 makers, be perfectly honest with him ; that we 
 promise nothing that we cannot perform, and then 
 that we perform what we have promised, though it 
 should draw forked lightning upon our heads. 
 
 There is no great risk, unless common sense is 
 lacking. What is any festival to a child ? It is 
 what he remembers it to have been ; his delighted 
 expectations reflect past pleasures. Were his 
 Christmas always only a green wreath on the wall 
 of his hut and a gilt horn of sugar-plums in his 
 stocking, these poor things were enough to set the 
 day apart and furnish material for many day- 
 dreams. But it is wretchedness unspeakable to a 
 child to have had a happy holiday one year and be 
 bereft of it the next year, or even to be uncertain 
 about its recurrence. Uncertainty is to the youth-
 
 66 Holly and Mistletoe 
 
 ful mind anguish, while a sure and definite enjoy- 
 ment, however small, is material from which hope 
 and faith construct the fabric of happiness. 
 
 If I were asked to describe the one feature of 
 Christmas which seemed the distinguishing mark 
 of the day, I should unhesitatingly say, on looking 
 back through the vista of years upon a happy child- 
 hood, that it was evergreens. Well do I remember 
 the pilgrimage to the market, the bringing home a 
 great basket of trailing " crowfoot," glowing holly, 
 and delicate mistletoe, and the joyous embellishing 
 of pictures, mantels, and door-frames until the 
 house looked like a miniature forest. Then the 
 tree ! Ah, do not think, when you resolve to dis- 
 pense for the first time with this troublesome ap- 
 pendage, that you are only asking your children to 
 give up a tree. You are asking them to relinquish 
 the very spirit of Christmas, the romance, the 
 poetry, the embodiment of all their youthful senti- 
 ment. This is to say — if they have come to asso- 
 ciate a tree with Christmas. It would be the same 
 if it were a stocking, a plum-cake, a cornucopia. 
 Question any child who has been so blessed as to 
 have had the experience, and you will find that 
 some one thing is predominant with him in the 
 making of the holiday. And this one association 
 it is his inalienable right to preserve. 
 
 We trample relentlessly on a child's native
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 67 
 
 sources of happiness when we take from him his 
 dear associations. There is no substitute, because 
 happiness is wrought not from material things, but 
 of feelings. This being so, perhaps the best thing 
 we can do for our children upon holidays is to give 
 them ourselves ; the best part of ourselves, our 
 sympathy, our high spirits, our generous, enthusias- 
 tic affection. The parent who creates this joyous 
 atmosphere in his home, and contributes from his 
 own nature the elements of " a good time," need 
 fear no reverses of fortune nor deprivation. He is 
 the holiday incarnate, and his company outrivals 
 the attractions of Alexander's feast, in the opinion 
 of his youthful comrades. 
 
 The day will come when our little ones, grown 
 to manhood and womanhood, and saddened per- 
 haps by inroads death has made in the home circle, 
 will look back with feelings of purest pleasure to 
 these happy family gatherings when great and 
 small frolicked in company, and the bond of affec- 
 tion was drawn warm and close about hearts time 
 has withered and separated. Some wise man once 
 advised : " Lay up in youth a store of pleasant 
 memories." Indeed, there is no better safeguard 
 against loneliness and despondency than a little 
 stock of fair, sweet pictures to look upon, and 
 those of us who are able at will to conjure up 
 pleasant and cheerful bygone scenes are shielded,
 
 68 Holly and Mistletoe 
 
 as by a guardian angel, from many of the disap- 
 pointments and griefs of life. 
 
 The duty of making children happy is one not al- 
 ways recognized. Often we confuse it with the 
 idea of indulgence and laxity of government; but 
 while liberty is delightful, license or defiance of law 
 and order brings its own punishment. We need 
 not remove wholesome and proper restraint in 
 order to give a child the full flavor of enjoyment, 
 for this is to encourage the false notion that enjoy- 
 ment is more or less incompatible with good con- 
 duct. Neither need we, on the other hand, precede 
 every holiday with a lecture, as an ultra-conscien- 
 tious governess who had the charge of my younger 
 days used to do. There is a happy medium, and it 
 may well be expressed in the simple rule: Make the 
 enjoyment of the child dependent upon the enjoy- 
 ment of others. Let him take part in the prepara- 
 tions as well as in the results. 
 
 There is almost always a graceful response upon 
 the part of a child when appeal is made to him to 
 help in the getting ready for company, or for little 
 feasts in honor of some one he cares for. And it is 
 not solely because the bustle is pleasant, and the 
 sight of dainties for the table congenial ; no, the 
 feeling that he has the power of contributing to the 
 happiness of others brings real delight to the little 
 heart which is sometimes weighted down with a
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 69 
 
 sense of insignificance, and of having no part in 
 the affairs of the world; a fancy that would be 
 touching if it were understood. 
 
 " In the heart of winter's snow, Christmas fires 
 glow." Out of the past this phrase from an almost 
 forgotten poem comes back to me, and brings with 
 it a gleam of the cheerful anticipation with which, 
 as a little child, I used to look forward to the great 
 day of the year. Children who have not been too 
 early initiated in those pleasures that belong by 
 right to mature life, and whose natures have been 
 kept fresh and simple, enjoy the holidays that are 
 appropriate to them with a zest and heartiness of 
 which the poor little sated palates of infant world- 
 lings are incapable. 
 
 If for no other reason than to secure them the 
 greatest amount of happiness at those times when 
 they naturally expect to be made particularly 
 happy, we ought to accustom our children to be 
 content ordinarily with simple pleasures. How 
 can the child who goes to parties frequently, to 
 whom the theatre is a familiar dissipation, an 1 who 
 has dainties and toys whenever he calls for them, 
 experience any of the ecstasy over Christmas which 
 the unsophisticated little one feels who tastes 
 candy and plum pudding only as a rare treat, and 
 to whom the pantomime is an unexplored world of 
 wonders ?
 
 jo Holly and Mistletoe 
 
 Anticipation constitutes a large part of the enjoy- 
 ment of youth, and when there is a prospect of 
 pleasure which may certainly be depended upon, 
 and that is not contingent upon the good-will or 
 the caprices of others, children sip daily and hourly 
 for a long time beforehand the delights of posses- 
 sion. This habit of childhood of dwelling upon 
 joys to come ought not to be frowned down and 
 discouraged by the elders who have outlived their 
 own enthusiasm and who have come to believe hap- 
 piness a delusive and transitory thing. 
 
 What if we know that there is more evil than 
 good in most lives, that things seldom turn out as 
 well as they promise and that there is a drop of bit- 
 terness in the bottom of each cup of sweet, need we 
 therefore take from buoyant and hopeful childhood 
 its truest and deepest joy, belief and confidence in 
 the future ? Rather let us try to sympathize with 
 their mood, and rejoice and hope with them. It 
 will do them a great deal of good, and perhaps do 
 ourselves good, too. It is well sometimes to be 
 simple and truthful rather than wise, and if, as one 
 of our greatest preachers taught, it is possible by 
 right relations with others to establish a heaven 
 here upon earth, such an application might be 
 made of the mystically beautiful warning of Christ: 
 " Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot en- 
 ter the kingdom of heaven."
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 71 
 
 Christmas is not a time for selfish enjoyment — if 
 there is ever any real enjoyment where selfishness 
 is present. It is above all the season of thoughtful- 
 ness for others, of giving, of love and kindness and 
 the play of social feeling. A true-hearted child 
 looks forward as happily to the pleasure he is to 
 bestow as to that he expects to receive. He pre- 
 pares with a secrecy ever upon the point of burst- 
 ing out, little remembrances for father and mother, 
 brothers and sisters and friends, and saves up his 
 pocket-money that he may lavishly dispense it 
 upon odd (and sometimes pathetically inappro- 
 priate) gifts. To be penniless and helpless at 
 Christmas time is a grief the young can feel as well 
 as the old, and with scarce less keenness. 
 
 And this is one reason why, despite all the excel- 
 lent reasons that can be adduced upon the other 
 side, I advocate providing children with a regular 
 allowance of pocket-money, and teaching them from 
 an early age how to make purchases. To save for the 
 sake of giving is an education in generosity and in 
 that care-taking for others which is so essential an 
 element of later life. Let the little ones save up 
 their pennies to spend when the time comes, and 
 then, with blithe hearts and liberal intentions, they 
 will " go Christmasing " on their own account and 
 learn to take part in the general effort to promote 
 the happiness of the season.
 
 72 Holly and Mistletoe 
 
 And a word must be said on behalf of the elder 
 young persons in the family — those who are no 
 longer children, yet have not outgrown, despite 
 their pretence of sedateness, the childish liking for 
 indulgence and good times. We are apt to think 
 chiefly of the little ones who clamor of their affairs, 
 and neglect the needs of the shy and silent half- 
 grown boys and girls who have not so much to 
 say for themselves. And yet they, especially, ought 
 to be drawn into the stream of activity and invited 
 to take part in the merry-making. Use this oppor- 
 tunity to melt the stiffness which is a malady of the 
 ' teens," and convince the lads and lassies who feel 
 awkward and dc trop that there is a place for them, 
 and that their services are indispensable. Pray see 
 to it that some shy and sensitive young creature 
 does not hide away to mourn privately that he or 
 she is not wanted. Such a feeling is a little affecta- 
 tion, of course, but leads to very real discomfort, 
 and we must recognize the first symptoms of the 
 discontent and break it up. 
 
 Let us make the holiday season a real time of 
 rejoicing and innocent frolicking and general good 
 will and conviviality. Let old and young, the 
 stately heads of the family and the servants, meet 
 on the common ground of humanity and good feel- 
 ing, and enjoy together for a little while a relaxation 
 of ordinary restraints. Old customs are sweet, and
 
 Holly and Mistletoe 73 
 
 the best prayer I can make for all the children 
 throughout the land, whom I dearly love, and for 
 the elders, in whom I take a warm interest, is that 
 upon the day now close at hand they may all enjoy 
 together an " old-fashioned Christmas." And with 
 even deeper earnestness the prayer is made that the 
 glow of our hearth fires may spread abroad and 
 warm those who will be cold and cheerless without 
 the loving remembrance of kind hearts. In the 
 midst of our merrymakings we ought surely to let 
 a thought and a humane effort extend out toward 
 " God's poor."
 
 It is said that in " old times " children listened to the con- 
 versation of their elders, and so learned something of what 
 was going on in the world; now, the elders listen to the 
 children, and so learn how the world is going.
 
 A View of School Life 
 
 The indifference of the majority of parents to- 
 ward their children's school life is surprising. In 
 their opinion there is a great gulf fixed between 
 that and their home life. During the one period 
 they are supposed to be under the guardianship 
 and control of a corporation expressly provided to 
 take charge of their mental training, and the whole 
 responsibility as to this part of their education is 
 shifted upon the persons who happen to occupy 
 temporarily the position of teachers. 
 
 Very few parents take the pains to become per- 
 sonally acquainted with the men and women who 
 are invested with such vast authority over their 
 children. They would not permit anything like 
 this free intercourse with any other stranger, but 
 while they claim the privilege of supervising the in- 
 timacies that their children indulge outside of 
 school, the mere fact that she is their teacher ex- 
 empts a woman from those investigations regarded 
 as necessary and proper under other circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Perhaps parents ordinarily underestimate the ex- 
 
 75
 
 76 A View of School Life 
 
 tent of a teacher's influence. They believe school 
 life to consist almost wholly of set recitations, and 
 lessons learned from books, and some of them en- 
 tertain the agreeable opinion that the child goes to 
 school simply to become proficient in certain in- 
 tellectual acquirements, and that his character will 
 not be affected by a merely perfunctory relation 
 with his instructors. 
 
 But the intellectual training he obtains is by no 
 means the only education a child acquires at school. 
 A teacher possesses, from the very fact of his or her 
 position, a great moral influence. It is not inferior 
 in scope to the power of the preacher. The little 
 raised platform on which stands the perhaps shabby 
 desk from which issue continually suggestions 
 and admonitions, is no less a pulpit because the 
 utterances of its occupant are supposed to be of a 
 secular nature. There is no wall between learn- 
 ing and ethics, indeed, the two are inseparable, and 
 with every addition to our knowledge our ideas of 
 right and wrong become modified. The teacher 
 interprets for the benefit of his pupils, he points 
 the moral of a lesson, and they see, for the time, 
 through his eyes. Far from being insensible to 
 impressions during these hours, the child's con- 
 science is alive to impressions at the time that his 
 mental activity is greatest, and the influence of his 
 teacher's advice and suggestions may be so power-
 
 A View of School Life JJ 
 
 ful as even to outweigh all the influence exerted in 
 a contrary direction at home. 
 
 We naturally respect one who is our superior in 
 knowledge, and the teacher invariably starts out 
 with this immense advantage. Besides that which 
 is vested in his own personality he 'has power de- 
 rived from being part of a system, a body in which 
 is supposed to be accumulated the wisdom of the 
 country in educational matters, and the young neo- 
 phyte bows to this mysterious divinity and to its 
 representative. So it comes about that after awhile 
 the child begins to question whether his parent — 
 who incautiously betrays forgetfulness of facts 
 that are to the student, at present, the most impor- 
 tant facts in the world — knows as much as he does 
 himself, while he is sure that his teacher knows 
 more. Where is the balance of power now ? 
 Who, under these circumstances, has most to do 
 with moulding the character of the child ? 
 
 Some parents are well aware of a teacher's 
 power in influencing a child's conduct ; notably, 
 those of the poorer class, who have so little time to 
 become acquainted with their own children that 
 they deal with them almost entirely upon general 
 principles, scold, advise, and punish at recurrent in- 
 tervals, and are happy to throw as much of their re- 
 sponsibility as they can rid themselves of upon 
 other shoulders. Instances are not uncommon of
 
 yS A View of School Life 
 
 a mother confessing that the child she has borne 
 and nourished is less susceptible to her direction 
 than to that of the comparative stranger employed 
 to supervise his mental development. One mother 
 actually went to her boy's teacher and implored 
 her to advise Johnny " to behave himself better at 
 home." Adding pathetically, " he will do what- 
 ever you tell him, and I can't do anything with 
 him." It would seem as if this was asking rather 
 more than is fair of a woman who had seventy boys 
 under her charge, and to whom Johnny was an 
 atom in the mass, hurriedly considered and scarcely 
 known in his own personality apart from the 
 others. In this respect our crowded public schools 
 are not as efficient as were the old country district 
 schools, where the teacher had a more intimate as- 
 sociation with her pupils. 
 
 It is due to teachers to say that usually they do 
 the best they can. Often overworked and annoyed 
 by lack of proper facilities for carrying on their 
 labors to the best advantage, they yet contrive to 
 fulfil what is expected of them, not only by that ex- 
 acting body, the Board of Education, but by par- 
 ents themselves. Yet, teachers are not exempt from 
 ordinary failings of humanity. They are liable to 
 be inefficient, superficial, unjust, impetuous, as 
 other men and women are. They are liable to take 
 unaccountable aversions and likings to certain pu-l
 
 A View of School Life 79 
 
 pils, and if not restrained by the strictest sense of 
 duty, to have scapegoats and favorites, who are re- 
 spectively embittered or spoiled. It is absurd to 
 believe that every tutor is fitted to undertake the 
 guidance of these young human beings left so com- 
 pletely to his control. At best, he is likely to enter- 
 tain decided opinions as to life and conduct much 
 at variance with the ideas of the parents, and if the 
 latter choose to exercise the direction it is natural 
 for persons of strong character to exert, the child 
 is shuttlecocked between tutor and guardian, and 
 either rendered vacillating or rebellious. 
 
 Both parent and teacher may wish to serve the 
 best interest of the child; each is a most valuable 
 element, and each should be able to give him some- 
 thing not to be obtained from the other. But if 
 they work in contrary directions, they annihilate 
 one another ; and if only one labors, the other re- 
 maining passive and indifferent, comparatively lit- 
 tle can be accomplished. School life and home life 
 should go on harmoniously, and supplement each 
 other. There should be no clashing nor confusion. 
 And the only way that this can be brought about is 
 for parent and teacher *o understand one another, 
 to exchange views and experiences, and by putting 
 together the two halves of the child's existence 
 make a complete picture that will present him to 
 them both in his entire personality, and enable
 
 80 A View of School Life 
 
 both to exert their united influence in the same di- 
 rection, and for his true welfare. 
 
 The question that naturally comes up is, How 
 can the right relations be established between par- 
 ents and teachers ? It is true that there are some 
 difficulties in the way of these friendly relations 
 which it is not within the power of the teachers to 
 remove, although in general they appreciate the 
 great advantage to the children of this personal 
 acquaintance. It might be possible to have occa- 
 sional social meetings of parents and teachers in 
 the schoolrooms, in the evening; but the usual rule 
 is that the school buildings shall not be used for 
 any other purposes than for the routine work of 
 the school. There are no social gatherings, none 
 of the many features of entertainment and instruc- 
 tion which would greatly advance the interest of 
 the students and add to the general welfare of the 
 community. 
 
 At rare intervals, it is true, some parents visit 
 the schools and have a little talk with a teacher, 
 and it has been remarked by the latter that such a 
 visit from father or mother invariably has a good 
 effect upon the child ; that he is for awhile after- 
 wards more tractable, and more interested in his 
 studies from the sense of this oversight. But, many 
 parents do not enter their child's schoolhouse dur- 
 ing the entire year; do not know his teacher by
 
 A View of School Life 8 1 
 
 sight, and have the vaguest idea of the studies he is 
 pursuing. In fact, the child is completely aban- 
 doned to the charge of his tutors and his educa- 
 tion is supposed to be adequately provided for. 
 
 That this is not the best condition of affairs is 
 proved by the marked superiority of the pupils 
 whose parents interest themselves in their studies, 
 and seek a personal acquaintance with their teach- 
 ers. In every instance this is distinctly beneficial to 
 the child. Acquiring an education is not an easy 
 task; there is much that is monotonous, dreary, 
 and seemingly useless. If the child perceives that 
 his parent is indifferent, that he looks upon the 
 school period merely as so much time to be passed 
 in a certain way, he very naturally views the matter 
 himself as a perfunctory duty, to be performed 
 somehow, and with as little labor as can be put into 
 it. The children of the great middle class, who go 
 to school as a matter of course, are more apt to be 
 in this indifferent mood than the very poor, for the 
 parents of the latter are usually ambitious that 
 something shall come of the sacrifices they make 
 to let their children be educated, and although they 
 are themselves ignorant, they inquire frequently 
 whether their boys and girls are doing as well as 
 can be expected of them, and keep them up to the 
 mark pretty effectually. 
 
 Teachers who have a class of from fifty to sev-
 
 82 A View of School Life 
 
 enty pupils — and unhappily in most large schools 
 this is the average — have not time to become ac- 
 quainted with their pupils individually during 
 school hours, and this is a great loss to the chil- 
 dren. Sometimes a little consideration for the pe- 
 culiarities of a child makes all the difference be- 
 tween success for him or failure, and often if a 
 teacher was enlightened by a few suggestions from 
 the parent as to his disposition, the course could 
 be made much smoother. 
 
 As a rule teachers are glad to have parents visit 
 the school and pleased at any evidence of interest 
 in methods and progress. There are exceptions, 
 and sometimes the well-meant advances of parents 
 are met by cold rebuffs. But in general, teachers 
 are fully alive to the value of parental co-operation, 
 and are quite ready to embrace every opportunity 
 to bring about those personal relations which 
 would render the task of guiding the children more 
 a matter of intelligence and less a matter of chance. 
 
 The difficulty in the way of establishing such a 
 relation lies apparently not with the teachers, but 
 with the parents. It is their indifference, their cul- 
 pable indolence and carelessness, which permit 
 wrong conditions to exist, and make their chil- 
 dren suffer from the evils which are quite remedi- 
 able if a little energy were judiciously employed. 
 Parents do not understand the advantage of united
 
 A View of School Life 83 
 
 effort. They stand by themselves, each family bul- 
 warked by its own pride of isolation, and conse- 
 quently the efforts of those who are sufficiently in- 
 terested to attempt reform where it is needful, pass 
 merely for individual protests. Yet, parents are the 
 great power in the community. They can accom- 
 plish anything, have whatever they wish. There is 
 no reason why they should submit to impositions 
 or abide by the mistakes of those in a minority. 
 They make school boards and pay for school build- 
 ings and for instruction. It is their duty to see that 
 their money is properly expended and that the best 
 results are wrought. Yet, they often stand help- 
 lessly before as great an evil as could possibly exist, 
 and doom their children to conditions which inev- 
 itably bring about in many of them ill 'health, de- 
 pleted energies, loss of hope and enthusiasm in 
 their work, and consequent ruin to their intellec- 
 tual development. 
 
 In every city there are overcrowded schools. 
 Classrooms built to accommodate fifty children are 
 made to contain sixty or seventy, even seventy- 
 five ! Teachers say that they sometimes have ten 
 or more children in their rooms who have no desks. 
 They are obliged to sit for hours on forms without 
 backs to them, to sit upon the floor, and do their 
 writing upon the steam radiator ! It is almost im- 
 possible to preserve order under such circum-
 
 84 A View of School Life 
 
 stances, and it is unreasonable to require the chil- 
 dren to do good work without any facilities. In 
 the manual training-schools three boys occupy the 
 space that rightfully belongs to but two. Neither 
 carpentering, wood-carving, nor drawing can go on 
 properly. Thousands of children are turned away 
 from the schools annually because they absolutely 
 cannot get inside the buildings, and the strain of 
 competition is so great that often the smallest pre- 
 text is seized upon to dislodge a child who would 
 have been helped to overcome his deficiency in 
 scholarship if there were not so large a number of 
 outsiders eagerly waiting for his place. 
 
 All the physical exercises that can be devised can- 
 not obviate the injury to a child's figure caused by 
 prolonged stooping over his books when he is 
 obliged to sit without any support to his back, and 
 to write and draw upon the floor. ' Are parents 
 aware of these conditions ? ' : was incredulously 
 asked of a teacher, lately. " Oh, they do not in- 
 quire," was the reply. " They are too glad to get a 
 child into the school at all, to be fussy. But I am 
 sorry for the children. I do the best I can for them, 
 but how can I make more room ? " 
 
 There is but one way to obviate this evil. We 
 must have more school buildings, and employ more 
 teachers. Whatever sum is spent upon education 
 must be increased if there is positive proof of its
 
 A View of School Life 85 
 
 being inadequate. If parents cannot provide for 
 their children properly they should have none. And 
 if there are some unrecognized forces working 
 against the best interests of their offspring in a 
 country which affords almost unlimited natural fa- 
 cilities for right development, inquiry should be 
 made into the causes and there should be speedy 
 redress. The children are growing apace. Every 
 month and year is of vast importance in their 
 lives. They cannot afford to wait the slow action of 
 legislatures. Let parents themselves take in hand 
 these matters which are distinctively their own af- 
 fair. A general petition, signed by all the parents 
 of any community, would compel attention. Any 
 measure that they would unite upon would be car- 
 ried. The chief difficulty is to induce them to co- 
 operate. A parent whose child has a pleasant berth 
 in the school prefers to let well alone, and has lit- 
 tle sympathy to bestow upon outsiders, while the 
 outsiders fear to incur disfavor by being aggres- 
 sive. Truly, most of the good things in this life 
 are lost, not from want of ability to get them, but 
 from indifference. 
 
 When the matter is put plainly before them, 
 however, parents cannot refuse to see that it is 
 their duty to exercise some care and oversight over 
 that large portion of their children's lives which 
 is spent in the schoolroom. Personal acquaint-
 
 86 A View of School Life 
 
 ance with the teachers, scrutiny of the sanitary 
 condition of the school buildings and of their ac- 
 commodations, and some supervision of their chil- 
 dren's school work are indispensable aids to that 
 education they are, in general, anxious to secure 
 for their boys and girls. And when their interest 
 is once aroused it cannot be long before the bar- 
 riers in the way of free intercourse between parents 
 and teachers are removed. Associations will be 
 formed, and places of meeting agreed upon; topics 
 for discussion will be selected, and the interchange 
 of experiences will be found an invaluable element 
 in the labors of both. 
 
 Surprising developments often take place where 
 parents and teachers come together, and there al- 
 ways results a better understanding of the child 
 and an increased interest in his welfare.
 
 An innocent application of an unwary remark was made 
 by a small maid of four, in whose presence her mother had 
 observed one day that, as she had but one child, all her 
 jewelry would belong to Daisy when she died. The next 
 day as Daisy was standing by the bureau admiring the jewel 
 casket she suddenly fixed her bright eyes on her mother and 
 observed gently, " Mamma, I wiss you'd hurry up and die! " 
 " Why, my dear — why does my little girl want her mamma 
 to die?" asked her mother, shocked at this cool disposal 
 of herself. " Betanse," said little Daisy gravely, "den I would 
 have de watch an' de shane and all de pitty sings."
 
 Children Love Color 
 
 Among the valid reasons why the practice of 
 wearing mourning should be discontinued is its in- 
 jurious effect upon children. They are naturally 
 fond of bright colors and are sensibly affected by 
 the dress of their elders. Black is generally de- 
 tested, and crape, that unwholesome substitute for 
 suttee, is sufficient to cast a pall over the merriest 
 spirits. And it is not a transient depression, to 
 be easily cast off, for a child's mind is like a flower; 
 whatever hurts at all, injures for all time. Infan- 
 tile prejudices and tastes influence us unaware, in 
 the affairs of maturity. 
 
 The disposition of a man or woman is fixed by 
 the prevailing mood of his childhood. Whatever 
 influences him toward cheerfulness builds up his 
 store of energy and courage, increasing his power 
 of success and usefulness, and whatever saddens 
 him lowers his vitality in the same degree, affect- 
 ing both health and temper. Observe a child who 
 has spent years in a house where several female 
 relatives perform their conventional duty to some 
 deceased member of the family by wearing mourn- 
 ing. Almost surely, if a boy, he is gloomy and 
 
 88
 
 Children Love Color 89 
 
 sullen; if a girl, she is pale and pathetic. And 
 this period, which should contain the storehouse 
 of bright and happy recollections, is dark with un- 
 necessary sorrow. 
 
 Our duty is to the living. The man or woman 
 who finds nothing in all the world to take as a new 
 centre of interest when that which was dearest is 
 gone, pays little compliment to the understanding 
 of the Supreme Power that exacts of him still to 
 live and work. We have no right to " broaden 
 the skirts of darkness ' ever hovering cloud-like 
 about our spiritual world, by materializing gloom 
 in our own persons to youthful eyes. Children 
 have an ardent love of grace and prettiness. They 
 hover about a beautifully dressed woman, adoring 
 every tint of her gown, and revelling in the lustre 
 of her jewels. A careless, indifferent society 
 woman who flutters into the nursery for a few 
 minutes before going out to a ball will often arouse 
 the most passionate admiration in the breasts of 
 her neglected children, who fall under the spell 
 of her beauty. Far off as she is from them she 
 represents a world all light and loveliness, and they 
 cherish the picture of her in their hearts. She ex- 
 erts through her outward charms an influence her 
 character could not command. 
 
 The devoted mother who plods about in a dingy 
 gown is not nearly so much loved, although time,
 
 90 Children Love Color 
 
 Which equalizes everything, reveals her value. But 
 why should she lose the great advantage of attrac- 
 tion ? Putting aside all questions of taste and ele- 
 gance and dealing only with this matter from the 
 standpoint of cheerfulness, it must seem worth 
 while to every one who thinks about it, to supply 
 the essential element of bright colors in their chil- 
 dren's daily lives. The mother who wore red bows 
 on her slippers for her baby boy's sake was not far 
 out of the way. We could all do at least so much. 

 
 One of the unfortunate attempts at wit which a friend re- 
 calls to this day, although the occurrence lies forty years 
 back in the annals of her childhood, is to the following effect. 
 A favorite aunt became engaged, and little Fanny showed 
 considerable aversion to the young man who had come to 
 " carry off her aunt." To propitiate her they one evening 
 took her out driving. Fanny, who prided herself upon her 
 propriety of speech, sat demurely silent until she had thought 
 of something important to say. This occasion was their 
 horse stopping on the road in front of a wrecked vehicle, 
 as if interested in the sight. " Mr. Moss," said Miss Fanny, 
 "is yours a female horse?" "Why?" asked the amused 
 gentleman. " I think," the demoiselle answered, bringing 
 out her explanation with a sense of triumph in her own 
 sagacity, " that she shows the curiosity of her sex in stop- 
 ping to look at the wreck!"
 
 Personalities and Vanity 
 
 Many mothers who are careful and judicious 
 in other respects commit the mistake of talking 
 about their children's ways and peculiarities when 
 the children are present. To discuss a child's 
 character within his own hearing, and especially 
 with some one not a member of the family, is cer- 
 tain to wound his feelings if he is sensitive and 
 shy, or to encourage conceit in him if he is inclined 
 to be forward. In any case it develops egotism, 
 and gives him the impression that he is an object 
 of great importance. Young ears should not be 
 regaled with tales of their owner's exploits, and 
 even if we have good reason to be proud of our 
 children we should avoid telling anecdotes before 
 them which tend to feed vanity. Absurdly 
 enough, I have even heard a wee sprout, perched 
 up on a great chair in the drawing-room while 
 his mother was talking about him to guests, drawl 
 forth, " Mamma, tell about the day I spoke my 
 piece at the kindergarten ! " 
 
 While we ought to encourage goodness by 
 praise administered in private, laudation in public 
 is as much to be avoided as censure before wit- 
 
 92
 
 Personalities and Vanity 93 
 
 nesses. We must neither parade virtues nor faults. 
 It is a temptation to parents to make a loving dis- 
 play of their young people, and a very natural 
 thing to suppose that no harm can come of it. 
 But even leaving out the danger of developing 
 vanity, there is the danger of setting an example 
 of gossip. Much of our talk before children is 
 too personal. We play without cessation upon 
 the strings of blame and praise, of likes and dis- 
 likes, until these newcomers in the world acquire 
 the idea that to tell what they know of the sayings 
 and doings of others, and make comments thereon, 
 is all there is of conversation. 
 
 Another rock easy to split upon is to rehearse 
 before them our methods of discipline and man- 
 agement. This is particularly a foible of parents 
 who are weak in government. They think to im- 
 press little John with the terrors in store for dis- 
 obedience or rudeness by running over in a casual 
 way the kinds of punishment it is within the power 
 of the authorities to inflict. Sometimes a visitor 
 alludes to some graceful trait, or remarks that little 
 John does not do some naughty thing lads are 
 prone to, and the unwise mamma will quickly re- 
 join: " He knows he would get a whipping if he 
 did that ! ' Whereat little John colors with shame 
 and resentment, feeling that a matter that should 
 lie strictly between his mamma and himself has been
 
 94 Personalities and Vanity 
 
 given unnecessary publicity. And if he is a well- 
 intentioned lad the outrage hurts more because it 
 has been implied that he only does right through 
 fear. Any courageous nature would have the im- 
 pulse to show fight under these circumstances, to 
 prove itself possessed of courage. We are trench- 
 ing upon delicate ground when we touch the 
 springs either of vanity or shame, and we had best 
 let our children hear as little as possible of all those 
 allusions to themselves which it is our habit to 
 make. 
 
 The custom of training children to " show off " 
 their singing and recitation and other little ac- 
 complishments is to be deplored. A tiny creature, 
 beautifully dressed, standing up to " speak '' be- 
 fore an audience is a questionable spectacle. They 
 may enjoy it, and parents too, but at what cost ? 
 Self-consciousness, vanity, and aggressiveness 
 drive modesty out of the child's heart, while the 
 elders are laying up for 'themselves a stock of an- 
 noyance for the future. 
 
 A child who has once tasted the sweets of flat- 
 tery craves it thereafter as he does other unwhole- 
 some delicacies. It would astonish his thoughtless 
 friends to know the burning restlessness that ob- 
 tains possession of a young mind that has been 
 thoroughly aroused into self-consciousness. Com- 
 pliments and admiration are courted and greedily
 
 Personalities and Vanity 95 
 
 hoarded. Every word of praise is repeated to 
 whoever will listen, and the days are reckoned as 
 those on which certain pretty things were said and 
 those that were barren of compliments. The child 
 learns to " pose " and falls with pitiable naivete 
 into that attitude which was once called plainly 
 " fishing- for compliments." As a nation we are 
 said to be peculiarly sensitive and vain, and we 
 need more than ordinary caution, in order to dis- 
 courage in our children these undesirable quali- 
 ties which our present carelessness tends to foster. 
 A certain offset to these flatteries consists in that 
 ready intolerance of the American people to any- 
 thing that is voted " a bore." We are brave, we 
 are patient under discomforts, and we are generous 
 toward our foes; but we cry out lustily against 
 what is an infliction upon our nerves; that which 
 is tiresome is unendurable. So, when the child we 
 have petted and excited into unnatural forward- 
 ness ceases to amuse we turn the cold shoulder 
 toward his efforts, leaving him in puzzled wonder 
 at our inconsistency. An instance of this occurred 
 upon one occasion of a parlor entertainment where 
 a charming little boy was coaxed to recite some 
 verses in the intervals of the charades. Mounted 
 upon a table, he went through the task with an 
 animation that showed the taste for exhibition to 
 be already well developed. But excited by ap-
 
 96 Personalities and Vanity 
 
 plause, he saw reason for continuing to monop- 
 olize public attention, and whenever a motion was 
 made to take him down, he called out, " I know 
 another one, papa ! " until the amusement of the 
 onlookers turned into fatigue, and murmurs were 
 heard, " The child is a nuisance; take him away ! ' 
 And he was taken away, indignant and protesting. 
 A hard lesson for him, that a public deposes its 
 favorite the instant it has had enough of him; but 
 let us hope he learned it so thoroughly as to save 
 him from disappointment and heartburning in the 
 future. 
 
 The vanity of a parent which sees in a child 
 nothing but a miniature of self is the more repre- 
 hensible when it impels him to engage for this 
 youthful representative an attention he could not 
 gracefully ask in his own person. Sometimes the 
 culture of talents is looked upon merely as a means 
 of reflecting lustre upon the family, and children al- 
 ready overloaded with a sense of emulation are 
 urged not to fail in school exercises lest papa or 
 mamma should be mortified. Latterly, what was 
 once confined to the college has come into the 
 school, and primary teachers and even kinder- 
 garten teachers have caught the fever and turn the 
 beautiful lessons of Froebel into amusing specta- 
 cles for the public. It was gratifying to see in one 
 of the leading educational journals of the West
 
 Personalities and Vanity 97 
 
 a protest against the exhibit of kindergarten 
 games at the Columbian exposition. Such exhibi- 
 tions are certainly a perversion of the spirit and 
 aim of Froebel's lessons which may seem trivial 
 and meaningless to minds incapable of penetrating 
 below the surface, but are full of profound moral 
 purpose to the earnest and thoughtful observer. 
 
 That kindergarten teacher was excusable, al- 
 though mistaken, who in her anxiety to cater to 
 the wishes of her patrons for pretty spectacles, sub- 
 stituted Delsartian attitudes for the breath calis- 
 thenics the professor she had engaged wished to 
 give the children. " I wanted you to teach them 
 some graceful attitudes for the Christmas exhibi- 
 tion," she said with a most innocent show of dis- 
 appointment. " Then you should have engaged 
 some one to veneer, not develop your pupils," the 
 thorough-going professor responded. And he 
 spoke the difficulty of a number of teachers who 
 conscientiously desire to do their best for their pu- 
 pils but are balked by parental vanity and super- 
 ficiality. Even in the midst of this terrible hurly- 
 burly of our period, which makes us wild for some- 
 thing to show and to look at, it would be well for 
 us to recollect that " Life is real, life is earnest," 
 and exhibition is not the chief end of mankind. 
 
 Teachers cannot stem the tide of parental 
 wishes; they must give substantially what parents
 
 98 Personalities and Vanity 
 
 are willing to pay for, and if exhibitions are pre- 
 ferred to real progress, the latter must be sacri- 
 ficed. But let there be no mistake about its being 
 really sacrificed. Drill takes an immense amount 
 of time, and to make very small children act auto- 
 matically, so that a pretty effect is secured, uses 
 all the energy of pupils and teacher. The differ- 
 ence between true and false education is in their 
 glitter. Mental growth is slow, internal, and only 
 manifest in the whole character of the individual; 
 while one who has devoted his time to learning 
 motions can go through them when called upon, 
 to the admiration of an audience. Superficial per- 
 sons will never apprehend that the most valuable 
 lessons are those which cast no mark upon the 
 bulletin sheet of the school, but sink deep into the 
 mind of the pupil to be reproduced some day in 
 living words and acts whose source no one will 
 trace.
 
 That the ability to overreach competitors is born in per- 
 sons no one would doubt who had ever known my young 
 
 friend Hattie D . Yet there were good points about the 
 
 child, and her little vice was innocently pursued. So she 
 had rather a rude shock one day when public opinion de- 
 nounced her. The children in the neighborhood had clubbed 
 their pocket-money to make a party in the back yard of 
 one of the number, but a dead lull took place in the middle 
 of the festivities and the mother of the young hostess went 
 out to inquire into it. Her daughter rushed up to her 
 and, pointing to the offending guest, cried indignantly, " Oh, 
 mamma, mamma! We all put in five cents but Hattie, and 
 she only put in a cent, and now, after eating up all the 
 party, she is mad at us and wants her cent back!"
 
 When Character is Forming 
 
 Bret Harte, in one of his characteristic stories 
 in verse, describes a certain clique of young men 
 who pledged themselves to reform upon New 
 Year's Day, and fell away from grace, one by one, 
 until by mid-spring not a single upholder of the 
 faith was left. The question is suggested as to 
 whether it is worth while to pledge one's self to 
 conduct much above and beyond our habitual 
 practice, since broken faith is almost inevitable. 
 Nothing is more certain than that after that period 
 of life is reached when character is established, and 
 habits more or less fixed, a person will continue, 
 despi f e new impulses, to do about as he has done 
 in general, and that a total revolution, either in 
 aim or accomplishment, is to a degree improbable. 
 
 But the case is altogether different in early life. 
 While character is in process of forming every ef- 
 fort in the right direction, every aspiration toward 
 a high standard has an influence which will tell 
 later on. And the higher the ideal that is held up 
 before the youthful gaze the greater will be at- 
 tainment, for we may always count upon falling 
 short of our wishes; and the boy who starts out in 
 
 IOO
 
 When Character is Forming 101 
 
 life with heroic intentions will do more and make 
 better progress than one who expects little of him- 
 self. Unnumbered failures precede every advance 
 in goodness; fresh starts, renewed resolutions, 
 stumbles, repentances, and beginning over again 
 make up the history of ordinary life. 
 
 If the child who makes promises of unexampled 
 excellence yet falls into pitfalls of naughtiness 
 loses courage, and thinks it no longer worth while 
 to try, he should be encouraged by every tender 
 device, and restored to self-respect. What if every 
 night the slate that records the day's history is 
 marred and scratched with blunders and wilful er- 
 rors ? Is it not better to expunge them all and 
 begin the next new day with a fair, fresh surface, in 
 the hope that the writing may be cleaner and more 
 beautiful ? If it were possible, I would wipe out 
 even the memory of a naughty yesterday, and turn 
 all his thoughts and hopes toward the future; for 
 the child who is compelled to think of himself as 
 bad is like a man in a well who sees the sun far 
 above him but is unable to climb up toward warmth 
 and comfort. While, on the other hand, the feel- 
 ing that the old self has been cast off with the 
 night, and that with the dawn come fresh possi- 
 bilities, is an inspiration and an incentive toward 
 stronger efforts than we have made before. 
 
 I remember that in my childish days the New
 
 102 When Character is Forming 
 
 Year used to seem like a tangible, positive thing. 
 I fancied that the world settled up all its old affairs 
 on the 31st of December and made an entirely new 
 beginning with the dawn of January 1st. And I 
 felt an obligation upon myself to make new begin- 
 nings. There was a sweeping away of the old lit- 
 ter of toys in order that the charming Christmas 
 gifts might have room, and there was secretly the 
 turning over of a new leaf in my young life, and the 
 banishment of certain habits which my conscience 
 disapproved but which it seemed only possible to 
 shake off when the old year, with its darkened vis- 
 age, should have relaxed its hold upon me. 
 
 Who among us cannot recall such pathetic ef- 
 forts to " put off the armor of darkness and put on 
 the armor of light " ? And do we not also recol- 
 lect the keen pang aroused when some slight pec- 
 cadillo brought down from an unconscious elder 
 the wholesale reproach of " Naughty child ! al- 
 ways doing something you ought not to do ! ,: 
 Ahvays ! Was it so ? Did our good resolutions, 
 our earnest efforts count for nothing, and were we 
 accounted by the critics whose judgment was un- 
 impeachable no better this week than we were last? 
 Away, then, with poor little attempts at reform, 
 and let us return to the easy path of indifference. 
 As well have a good time since we were considered 
 thoughtless and selfish anyhow.
 
 When Character is Forming 103 
 
 Ah, mothers, take care what you say; forbear 
 these sweeping reproofs, lest you blast in the bud 
 with your icy criticism some tender plant of prom- 
 ise your child is nurturing in his heart with timid 
 hope. Many and severe are the discouragements 
 to virtue in childhood. Added to the impulses of 
 passion is the charge of a parent or teacher that 
 one is cursed with " a bad temper" ; upon the clog 
 of gross appetite is dropped the heavier weight 
 that the home community has dubbed the small 
 gourmand " a pig " ; and — final horror ! — some 
 involuntary deviation from truth has provoked the 
 saying that " You cannot believe what that child 
 tells." Are we totally forgetful of our own sensi- 
 tiveness to public censure ? Are we not aware 
 that we are very much inclined to live up or down 
 to our neighbors' opinion of us, and are better or 
 worse in agreement with what our friends expect ? 
 So, too, are children swayed in the right or wrong 
 direction, readily inclined to goodness or evil ac- 
 cording to suggestions, as the sensitive weather- 
 vane obeys the motion of the wind. 
 
 With all the impetus that can be gathered let us 
 send the little child onward each day toward a 
 higher life. The instinct childhood has, to make 
 epochs for itself and fence off time into distinct 
 periods, is a wise one. No better way can be de- 
 vised for re-creation than to believe that the past
 
 104 When Character is Forming 
 
 is dead, and a clean, fair future before us. It seems 
 to me a good plan to encourage the children to 
 fancy that with the death of the old year their old, 
 faulty selves may be made to perish also, and that 
 on New Year's Day a new world spreads out 
 wherein they can enter hopefully and coura- 
 geously, unfettered with memories or reproaches 
 from the past. And when the lofty little head is 
 drooped, and the poor little heart wounded with a 
 sense of its failures, let us inspire and cheer the 
 child instead of adding censure to self-reproach. 
 For out of a thousand failures success grows at 
 last, and to the heart that keeps up its courage 
 there comes at length the fruition of the hope that 
 has inspired its persistent and patient efforts.
 
 Singing, which is one of the most beneficial and exhilarat- 
 ing pastimes for children, is not sufficiently indulged in. It 
 is singularly difficult to induce the children in Sunday-school 
 to sing out freely, and when there are strangers present the 
 little ones are almost sure to be seized with a shyness that 
 makes them dumb. Much of this shyness would be over- 
 come if in the family there was a practice of singing to- 
 gether in the evening. Pianos are everywhere, and almost 
 all mothers can play enough to manage a few simple melo- 
 dies. A " Good-night song " before separating would be 
 found to soothe away some of the cares and vexations of 
 the day, and the children would be more ready to go peace- 
 fully to bed, their minds having been calmed and their nerves 
 quieted by the music.
 
 The Flower of Innocence 
 
 " Let us preserve to women," says Michelet, 
 " this velvet down of the soul." He spoke for the 
 generation that is past; the delicate, shrinking 
 women who feared to behold any fact in its naked 
 simplicity, and would have it adorned with all the 
 elaborate trimmings of a hyperbolical imagination; 
 who yet retained, underneath this mien of drooped 
 eyes and flushing cheeks, a strong and rude curios- 
 ity for the mysteries they made believe ignore. 
 The gentle, fanciful historian of woman's heart had 
 the instinct to protect the innate sense of purity 
 and refinement he admired from the clumsy at- 
 tacks even of women themselves. He would have 
 had them keep always the bloom of the peach, the 
 ineffable fragrance of the briar-rose, that uplifts its 
 modest head in the depths of some solitary wood 
 human foot has never trampled. 
 
 There is something so exquisitely beautiful in 
 innocence that even those who deem it a duty tql 
 be wise relinquish the privilege of their ignorance 
 with a sigh. This is the age — perhaps not of wis- 
 dom — let us say, of knowledge. Women have cast 
 
 down their idol of clay and set up a god of marble, 
 
 1 06
 
 The Flower of Innocence 107 
 
 lofty of brow, grand of proportion. They worship 
 intellect. It is a noble deity, bearing in the power- 
 ful right hand all possibilities of progress, except- 
 ing one — a tiny blossom, frail and lovely, yet with 
 the potency of exhaling an everlasting perfume 
 from its deep heart. This flower of innocence lies 
 at the feet of the marble god. His ambitious eyes 
 do not see it, and his votaries have forgotten its 
 value in the rush for laurel, for jewelled diadems; 
 sometimes, it may be, they are constrained to for- 
 get it, in their struggle for bread. 
 
 Clasped in the infant's tiny hands, reflecting 
 from its deeply concealed light a roseate glow that 
 tinges the youthful face with that mysterious film 
 that seems angelical, innocence ever reappears in 
 a world of suffering. It comes with the child; his 
 birthright. Too often it is bartered away for a 
 mess of potage; and far oftener it is stolen from 
 him by coarse and ruthless hands, belonging to 
 those who are his sworn protectors. This need 
 not be. The profane ravage is without excuse. 
 For innocence is not ignorance of right, but igno- 
 rance of evil. It is not fear, hiding less from out- 
 side foes than from the betraying voice of its own 
 guilty thought, but valor, sweet, high, and self- 
 sustained, going, as in Chaucer's fair allegory, 
 among lions and taking no harm; encountering 
 perils of earth and of wicked men, and cowing
 
 108 The Flower of Innocence 
 
 them solely by the light that beams from its pure 
 eyes. 
 
 The great painters always put into their chil- 
 dren's faces this fine light. We see it sometimes 
 now, less often than we should. The little ones 
 that are growing up in the broad glare of our age 
 of knowledge seem to have exchanged this emana- 
 tion from within for the sickly hue of gaslight. 
 There is a look of prescience, of cunning, of ex- 
 perience on the baby faces. Is innocence coming 
 into the world feebler, that it so soon dies ? Do 
 the mothers whisper dark secrets to their unborn 
 children, that the shadow falls so swiftly where all 
 should be pure ? " Wisdom lingers " — lingers 
 long, indeed, if it is the mother's knowledge of 
 good and evil that debauches her infant. She has 
 dwelt too intimately with sin and sorrow if the 
 baby knows not how to smile. This " velvet down 
 of the soul " must not be brushed away from her 
 if she would transmit unimpaired the most delicate 
 and lovely heritage that a woman can give to her 
 child. 
 
 In all revolutionary periods stern necessity 
 builds its solid structures on the ruins of the beau- 
 tiful. But the victim is not wantonly killed, only 
 bidden to remove out of sight and out of the way. 
 She creeps forth in good time and twines her arms 
 about her conqueror, and with added loveliness
 
 The Flower of Innocence 109 
 
 gained from rest, shines in his softened gaze, the 
 glorified creation of his dawning wish. We are 
 passing through one of the worst and it may be 
 the most necessary social revolutions that ever 
 devastated homes and stifled the sweet and natu- 
 ral emotions of the human heart. It is ' the 
 woman's age," the great cry goes ringing through 
 the world, and the men bow half shamefacedly, 
 half cynically, yielding a little to the tide, but see- 
 ing what the women dare not pause to see, the 
 flowers being swept away, and the barren rocks 
 being exposed on the deserted shore. 
 
 This revolution, so sadly necessary, will pass 
 soon, having pressed to a solution some problems 
 that have tormented active minds and embittered 
 anxious hearts. What shall we have gained ? A 
 bed-rock foundation on which to build up a higher, 
 finer civilization. But unless we would have this 
 building over-long deferred, it will be wisdom to 
 avoid the reckless destruction of material already 
 here, and which we shall need to use again. After 
 the establishment of civil and social government 
 upon the lofty and simple principle of equity, what 
 are to be the relations between men and women 
 in this fair future condition ? 
 
 Doubtless every woman secretly cherishes the 
 dream of a new and beautiful chivalry; a state of 
 refinement when the love of man for woman and
 
 I io The Flower of Innocence 
 
 of her for him will be founded upon the deepest 
 mutual respect and admiration. It is an enticing 
 vision; one that possibly may become a reality. 
 But it will never come about through the icono- 
 clastic efforts of the utilitarian. The talk is all of 
 " rights," and of " progress," and of " intellect " ; 
 but were Macaulay here, were Montaigne looking 
 on, these astute historians might exclaim, " They 
 mean license when they cry ' liberty ' " ; — " They 
 mean sentiment when th^y talk of facts." It is 
 upon sentiment, refined and beautified, but still the 
 same in kind, that the new social relation must 
 build, if at all. Reason alone furnishes no atmos- 
 phere for a home. 
 
 There is much to be reprobated in the senti- 
 ment of the present day, but for its demoralization, 
 women as well as men are to blame. They have 
 been careless of the flowers in their ambitious 
 march. Yet if these trampled flowers die — if the 
 spark of tender regard for the delicacy of women 
 as women, expires in the breasts of those who are 
 sometimes, it must be confessed, " ruthless ty- 
 rants," but oftener forbearing protectors — women 
 will have cause to mourn long and bitterly the de- 
 struction of the sole principle that can make life 
 beautiful and noble, and to regret the day when 
 they exchanged for faulty flesh and blood the mar- 
 ble idol, mind.
 
 The Flower of Innocence 1 1 1 
 
 To bring this matter closely home, let us con- 
 sider the attitude we have permitted to be 
 assumed in our households of boys and girls. 
 The new civilization demands respect for girls, 
 consideration for them, reverence for them as 
 the future mothers and counsellors and com- 
 panions of men. But in shame of the old sexual 
 servitude, when the little sister used to wait peni- 
 tentially upon her brother, we have come to en- 
 j courage a certain aggressive bearing on the part 
 of our baby daughters. They are the " equals " of 
 their brothers, they are not to give way; they are 
 to exercise, to romp, to wrestle, in pursuance of 
 their inborn right. The boys are freed from any 
 duty of attendance or of special courtesy; they are 
 only required to respect the prowess, mental and 
 physical, of this so-called weaker sex. Is the re- 
 sult satisfactory ? On the contrary, from every 
 quarter rises the cry on the one hand of the rude- 
 ness and indifference of the masculine being and 
 on the other of the aggressiveness and boldness of 
 the feminine being. The relations are not happy 
 between the sexes. They complain more and more 
 loudly, and there seems more and more to com- 
 plain of. It is natural to expect it. The amenities 
 are forgotten, forbearance despised, and open war- 
 fare declared. 
 
 Yet all this ferment is supposed to be necessary
 
 112 The Flower of Innocence 
 
 to the settling down of the turbulent elements into 
 happy conditions of peace. Perhaps a certain 
 amount was necessary, but let us hasten to put a 
 stop to the wasteful struggle before it has gone to 
 a fatal extent. The mind and body of our little 
 daughter are not all; let her develop both to the 
 limit of her ability, but let us care also for that deli- 
 cate, gracious faculty which is her most precious 
 possession — her womanhood. The rough and fa- 
 miliar contact with her boy comrades brushes away 
 " the velvet down of the soul." Can she not learn 
 with them, play with them, and yet maintain, in 
 the midst of this frank and friendly intercourse, the 
 gentleness, the sweetness, and the tact which prop- 
 erly belong to her sex ? 
 
 And the boy — can he not be encouraged to de- 
 velop what still exists as a germ in the soul of every 
 manly being, reverence and affection for his sister 
 and his friend, because she is a little woman and a 
 little lady ? The sweet, old-fashioned words, ladie 
 and gentleman have fallen into disuse since their 
 primitive meaning has been forgotten, but let us 
 trust that what they represented will reappear. Not 
 until the little boys and girls who mingle everywhere 
 according to our liberal notions, so merrily and 
 hoidenishly, are trained again, not as in the olden 
 time when one was to be servant to the other, but 
 in the enlightened view of a more aspiring civiliza-
 
 The Flower of Innocence 113 
 
 tion, to serve each other mutually, graciously, and 
 in distinct recollection of the true and essential dif- 
 ferences nature has implanted in them, can the fair 
 dawn of the looked-for social millennium color the 
 skies of our land.
 
 A very unpleasing trait in a child and one that occasions 
 frequent reprimands is a habit of self-excuse. Some chil- 
 dren are so ready and fertile in reply that it becomes almost 
 impossible to convict them of error. They have to be 
 " pinned down," as it were, and even then show a surprising 
 ingenuity in making explanations, which, without being pre- 
 cisely untrue, are a turning of points in their own favor. 
 When a child shows this disposition the right plan is not to 
 blame him directly, but manage so that when he is in the 
 wrong circumstances will convict him. The logic of facts 
 is incontrovertible, and arouses no feeling of animosity 
 toward persons. It is also desirable to refrain from that 
 common temptation — " driving a fault home." Children do 
 not like the valley of humiliation any better than we do 
 ourselves, and do not derive any benefit to their character 
 from being forced into it. A look, half-smiling, half- 
 accusing, is efficacious; but words arouse the defensive in- 
 stinct and lead to excuses.
 
 Growth in Self-Government 
 
 Our children are altogether too grave and 
 worldy-wise. They have a curious, false shame 
 about being amused, as if they thereby laid them- 
 selves liable to criticism. Scarcely ever is seen, 
 among those who are at play, a countenance ex- 
 pressing thorough, spontaneous enjoyment. There 
 is a reservation somewhere, a latent tendency to 
 contract the brow, or draw down the corners of 
 ! the mouth at the least temptation. There are 
 many causes for this unnatural mental attitude. 
 Civilized life has multitudinous pricks for the ten- 
 der nerves of youth. 
 
 One fault that some parents will honestly ad- 
 mit, is the habit they have of discussing in a 
 cynical way, the defects of institutions, of our so- 
 cial customs, and particularly the failings of indi- 
 viduals, in the presence of these as yet unsullied 
 little listeners. They hear that the government is 
 in the hands of corrupt politicians, that the school 
 board is composed of inefficient persons, that vice 
 and poverty are increasing, and worse than all, that 
 the uncle John and aunt Louisa, whom they love 
 
 115
 
 1 1 6 Growth in Self-Government 
 
 with disinterested affection, are mean and selfish 
 and ought to act very differently by their family. 
 
 What confusion reigns in the mind of the child 
 who is cautioned to be exceedingly polite and cor- 
 dial to the person for whom, if what is alleged of 
 him is true, he cannot help having a profound con- 
 tempt ! How depressed he feels as, after the break- 
 fast-table annihilation of society, he goes forth to 
 meet the elders in whom he no longer believes, and 
 the young companions in whom he is forced to see 
 embryo sharpers and enemies ! Such experiences 
 are very common, and one can scarcely estimate 
 the harm that is done by this inoculation of pes- 
 simism. 
 
 One of the rights of a child is to have his moral 
 nature developed. There is danger that with the 
 children of this generation this matter will be over- 
 looked. When the influence of churches, Sunday- 
 schools, and the clergy was more stringent and 
 extended to the details of conduct, children were 
 terrorized into an outward appearance of propriety 
 and their motives and wishes were the subject of 
 inquisitorial notice also. It went hard with the 
 possessor of " an unsanctified spirit." There was 
 no liberty of conscience, no room for choice: he 
 must be good after the set pattern, whether his 
 inclinations were in accordance with it or not. 
 
 But the child of our period has benefited by all
 
 Growth in Self-Government 1 1 7 
 
 the improved conditions of modern life. He 
 thinks, talks, acts from the impulse of self-direction 
 much more than his parents would have been per- 
 mitted to do. Unquestionably this individualized 
 creature is the inevitable product of a higher civili- 
 zation. He comes just as the world needs him and 
 he will do his work. But it is with a curious and 
 anxious interest that we watch the unfolding of 
 this complex being who is to be intrusted with the 
 management of a more wonderful and dangerous 
 machinery than the world has ever afforded to any 
 previous generation. He may have the needed 
 mental and physical abilities, the energy, the acu- 
 men, but is there not something else that he may 
 not possess ? Will he have humanity ? 
 
 In removing the outward restraints from the 
 consciences of men and allowing each one to be- 
 come the judge of his own religious necessities we 
 have only followed the essential bias of the times. 
 Liberalism has by no means reached its terminus. 
 The tendency is for a man to become a completely 
 self-governed being, controlled by no law except 
 his own sense of right. But what an immense ob- 
 ligation this liberty imposes ! How symmetrical 
 and complete must be the moral nature of an indi- 
 vidual who can conduct his life as he sees fit, and is 
 responsible to no one but that inward lawgiver 
 which is the voice of God in his own soul. When
 
 i i 8 Growth in Self-Government 
 
 force no longer exists what more subtle and finer 
 influence is to replace it ? There is but one: that 
 divine power toward which the race has been lifting 
 the glance of longing and aspiration through all 
 preceding ages — love. 
 
 Man will be fit for self-government only when 
 he is as stringently bound by his own sense of ob- 
 ligation to his neighbor as any civil or ecclesias- 
 tical law could bind him. When he has achieved a 
 feeling of humanity he will be safely free. This, 
 then, is the most important part of all education: 
 developing in the child a feeling of his obligations 
 to others, teaching him to be unselfish in heart and 
 not only in conduct. Let us impress upon him 
 anew, and in a more gracious sense than the idea 
 obtained once, that " noblesse oblige." The obli- 
 gation of being a man and a woman, bound to 
 help and love all other men and women, is one that 
 is far deeper than the obligation of a caste. The 
 new civilization does away with artificial and false 
 distinctions, and opens wide all its portals to moral 
 worth. This is the consummation of human de- 
 velopment, as yet only an ideal, carried out feebly 
 and hesitatingly by the most thoughtful and liberal 
 among us. But if we cannot achieve it for our- 
 selves, let us bear it in mind and help to realize it 
 for our children.
 
 The little girl who, upon being told that she was too small 
 to do what she wanted, and replied, " Yes, I suffer a 
 great deal from that ! " — voiced a general complaint of child- 
 hood. Any one who has made a study of physics realizes 
 the great difficulty there is in conceiving the existence of 
 atoms. We cannot get our minds down to these micro- 
 scopic objects; and yet, wonderful to know, in an invisible 
 particle of albumen exists, in minute form, the powers and 
 qualities that develop into impulses that move the world. 
 There is a curious egotism in mere bulk. Yet, if the child 
 could express himself, he would tell us that every passion, 
 every capacity, and every motive, that we account so im- 
 portant in ourselves, lives in his own small nature, and is a 
 source of joy and suffering to him, just as our own feelings 
 are to us. Size is only a relative term, and what is small 
 in our opinion may be gigantic to the object itself.
 
 The Right to be Understood 
 
 In attempting- to carry out any reform, from the 
 greatest to the least, people are commonly impa- 
 tient to see immediate results. If the machinery 
 they have agreed to try does not work perfectly at 
 first, they deride the inventor and cast it aside as 
 useless; if an idea which is manifestly a correct one 
 fails to bear the fruit of full performance, they lose 
 faith in it and talk of " theories in the air." It is 
 especially so with educational reforms, which cost 
 much trouble and seem most slow in good results. 
 
 It takes more time to grow a man than to make 
 a garden, and it is far easier to straighten out a 
 crooked shoot which is amenable to mechanical 
 appliances than to correct the evil tendencies of a 
 young human being whose faults have been grow- 
 ing for centuries and have come down to him with 
 the stubborn tenacity of life incident to an hered- 
 itary instinct. The best that can be done for him 
 may be too little; but less than the best might 
 work his ruin. Does it disprove the science of 
 medicine that it cannot cure some inherited dis- 
 eases or change organic deformities into sym- 
 
 --■ 120
 
 The Right to be Understood 121 
 
 metry ? Then why should theories of discipline 
 which are ideally good be brought into disfavor 
 because in cases of wrong application, and of too 
 late application, they do not operate satisfactorily ? 
 Alterative measures cannot change, however 
 much they may modify, original form; and all 
 methods of training are but alterative measures. 
 We must use them faithfully, but we should not be 
 unduly disappointed if there are phases of charac- 
 ter which defy our power of government. The 
 only true education begins far, far back of the 
 newly born child; and if he enters into life morally 
 misshapen, what can we do but employ such means 
 as lie in us to palliate, while recognizing our in- 
 ability to cope with, the fundamental disorder ? 
 Many parents, coming to a sense that their chil- 
 dren are unruly and troublesome, that they are 
 " growing up to be a terror to the community," 
 set to work vigorously to change their system of 
 management, and, without inquiry into causes, 
 with little knowledge of human nature and the ap- 
 plication of physiology and psychology to the 
 training of human beings, they " do something " 
 purely, as it seems, for the sake of doing something, 
 and after a little while fall back into lethargic tol- 
 erance of what they have failed to change, saying: 
 " Here is a child who defies all efforts to reform 
 him and who will have his own way despite every-
 
 122 The Right to be Understood 
 
 thing." And the child, thereupon, is allowed to 
 have " his own way," to his lasting detriment. 
 
 The question arises as to what is " one's own 
 way " and whether any of us ever do have it. We 
 are worked upon by different internal forces of mo- 
 tive and desire which the most intelligent among 
 us cannot fully understand. The more we do un- 
 derstand them the greater is our power of self- 
 control and the ability to mould others. To a 
 gifted few is given something resembling a divine 
 insight into motive. Melancthon had it; John 
 Chrysostom had it; Friedrich Froebel had it. The 
 sympathetic divination of the best that dwells in 
 any soul is like a gentle, nurturing rain in its power 
 to develop the seeds of virtue. In the worst nature 
 there are undeveloped possibilities of everything 
 good; but it needs genius to bring it forth. If a 
 teacher has wisdom enough, patience enough, and 
 love enough, he can perform the miracle of keep- 
 ing down in his pupil tendencies that have the 
 strength of lions, and encouraging germs of virtue 
 almost too feeble to come up to the light. But to 
 lesser minds and lesser hearts failure is inevitable 
 in the attempt to train natures morally defective. 
 
 " If you should have a dozen children, no two 
 of them would be alike in disposition," observed 
 an experienced matron to a young mother who 
 was exclaiming over the radical differences be-
 
 The Right to be Understood 123 
 
 tween her two boys. This admission is one be- 
 longing to the liberal tendency of our modern 
 time. The idea that a family of children resemble 
 pease in a pod, and are to be treated alike, is being 
 replaced by the more scientific opinion that there 
 are natural differences which must be considered. 
 Modern children are not to be managed in groups. 
 It is necessary to deal with them separately. This 
 requires more time, more care, more intelligence 
 than the old way; it requires special preparation 
 for parenthood and the cultivation of good quali- 
 ties in the guardians who are to exercise discrim- 
 inating government. The nineteenth century 
 makes large demands of us, and nowhere greater 
 than in its demand for superior character. 
 
 The existing race is of a higher type than pre- 
 vious ones. The succeeding one ought to be 
 higher still. It is worth while to take trouble to 
 secure it. In fact, the obligation is immutable. 
 It may not have been of our choice or seeking, but 
 it is here and we must face it. Our children are 
 individuals and bear themselves vigorously in the 
 direction toward which nature impels them. If we 
 are to be helpers, not hinderances, to their proper 
 development, we must aid them to become com- 
 pletely and successfully that which they will be- 
 come anyway without us; though, perhaps, incom- 
 pletely and unhappily. If we enter into this
 
 124 The Right to be Understood 
 
 relation with good will and good humor we will 
 find many compensations by the way for our 
 trouble. For nothing is more delightful than to 
 have secured a free intimacy with our children. 
 When the interchange of mutual kind offices is the 
 outcome of affection instead of sense of duty, there 
 is a grace and joy in doing and giving that those 
 whose acts are perfunctory never know. 
 
 Children have a right to be understood. And 
 to do this it is necessary to study them, with at 
 least as much pains as we bestow upon the study of 
 the arts and sciences, the accomplishments, and 
 domestic concerns and business enterprises which 
 so largely engross our minds and our time. These 
 are after all only means and ways of living, but 
 children are life itself. The study of child nature 
 may sometime attain to the dignity of being called 
 a science, perchance the noblest, most important 
 of them all.
 
 People who judge superficially say that childhood is the 
 light-hearted period of life, that children do not feel deeply. 
 But those who have entered into the feelings of these little 
 ones and tried to understand them, know that they are not 
 superficial. It is a question whether they are not more sub- 
 jective than their elders. If their curiosity were not so 
 strong, their awe would prevent their speaking upon grave 
 subjects. But, although they speak, they often give an im- 
 pression of levity which they are far from feeling. They 
 have no language for thoughts, because that necessarily 
 comes later in life, and so they are thrown back upon the 
 simple vocabulary that deals with objects, and are obliged 
 to talk as materialists of the most delicate and airy fancies 
 that dwell in their minds. We do not know half the beauty 
 and poetry of a child's mind, or we would never treat lightly 
 his serious words and sober ideas, however queerly ex- 
 pressed.
 
 An Up-hill Journey 
 
 The opinion is rather general among parents 
 that their children are crowded with school work; 
 that too much is required of them by their teach- 
 ers, and that the standard is one to which only the 
 pupil of exceptional industry finds it possible to 
 conform. The methods pursued in the public 
 schools are far from perfect; doubtless, the de- 
 mands are sometimes too severe, and the boy or 
 girl who is even slightly incapable, or is of a deli- 
 cate constitution, is hard pressed to keep up with 
 the rest. 
 
 But much of this pressure of work is only in 
 
 appearance. The constantly increasing tendency 
 
 of the last twenty years has been toward rendering 
 
 school work easier for the children, and not only 
 
 easier, but interesting. There is real anxiety lest 
 
 the child should be bored by his work; should find 
 
 the hours spent in the classroom dull and tedious. 
 
 There is every device to attract his fancy and 
 
 stimulate his flagging attention, and listlessness is 
 
 now generally attributed to some defect in the 
 
 teacher or in his methods, rather than to indolence 
 
 or incapacity of the pupil. 
 
 126
 
 An Up-hill Journey 127 
 
 The middle-aged men and women of the present 
 generation can look back to the days when they 
 travelled over muddy, unpaved roads to the village 
 schoolhouse, where boys and girls came together 
 in the morning from their widely separated homes 
 to spend eight or nine hours under the care of a 
 single teacher, who taught them according to his 
 own sweet will, without regard to their tastes or 
 preferences. Learning in those days was consid- 
 ered a task, and the difficulties were believed to be 
 good for children. There was far less method, and 
 less military precision; classes were seldom graded, 
 and rote-learning was held to be necessary. 
 
 We have improved greatly upon that ; the mem- 
 ory is not now taxed to the injury of the under- 
 standing, and the repetition of long lists of dates 
 and facts is not part of the day's duty. The child is 
 encouraged to observe, to reason and to think for 
 himself, and his own crude and hesitating expres- 
 sions of " the idea " in his lesson are accepted as 
 an equivalent for the author's language. Doubt- 
 less mental development is aided by modern meth- 
 ods more than it was by the sterner discipline of 
 the old-fashioned teaching. There is more readi- 
 ness, more general information among school- 
 children now than was commonly the case a quar- 
 ter of a century ago. The modern child is 
 " bright," quick-witted, observant, and inclined to
 
 128 An Up-hill Journey 
 
 be argumentative; wanting to have everything 
 proven to his satisfaction, and keenly alive to the 
 motif of the hour, that learning is to be acquired 
 with the least amount of pains and trouble. 
 
 Yet after a day passed in the society of half 
 a dozen charming children, fresh from their ob- 
 ject-lessons and their lecture-lessons and pro- 
 gressive exercises, the critical friend who looks 
 beneath brilliant appearances observes some de- 
 fects of character and some deficiencies of edu- 
 cation which used not to exist to the same extent 
 in the sturdier, if perhaps duller, little boys and 
 girls who studied after the regulation fashion of 
 the ancient regime. There is a lack of exact- 
 ness, of sound and thorough training in the ele- 
 mentary branches at present, due to our wish to 
 save children, as far as we can, from hard work. 
 Certainly there was an unnecessary amount of 
 drilling and routine labor in the spelling and 
 grammar classes, for instance, of twenty-five years 
 ago; but that labor wrought the happy result of 
 teaching pupils to spell and write and speak the 
 English language with accuracy and precision. 
 
 Only the learning that we have fought for and 
 conquered stays with us. A certain amount of 
 plodding is essential to vigor of character. Is not 
 the modern child less rugged and persistent than 
 his grandfather was ? Is he not inclined to weaken
 
 An Up-hill Journey 129 
 
 before difficulties, and think that what is trouble- 
 some is not worth doing ? Courage and persist- 
 ence are the characteristics of pioneers, and it is 
 sometimes said that the present generation has less 
 need of these qualities than the men who fought 
 against the elements in a new, wild country. But 
 certainly life is not any easier now than it was three 
 centuries ago; there is need of sinew and tough- 
 ness, of energy and indomitable resolution, if one 
 would succeed in any career, or make his life worth 
 anything to the world. 
 
 A child learns to exert himself or to be indolent 
 very early. The first impetus is given in the nurs- 
 ery, but another impulse comes with that second 
 great stage of life, the entrance into school. There 
 is not so great a demarcation between infancy 
 and childhood now, since learning begins in the 
 kindergarten and proceeds through easy and al- 
 most imperceptible stages up to the college. The 
 teacher needs both tact and decision to enable him 
 to begin the real discipline of his pupil's mental 
 faculties at the right time, and not prolong bab)'- 
 hood into the period when work should be taken 
 up in serious earnest. Learning ought to be made 
 agreeable, for anything which serves to keep the 
 pupil's mind in a happy condition invigorates the 
 tone of his entire system and makes it easier for 
 him to exert himself. But it must not be forgot-
 
 130 An Up-hill Journey 
 
 ten that every new effort of the mind is, to a certain 
 extent, essentially painful. The disagreeable stage 
 of a labor may not be in the beginning, but it comes 
 when some one of the faculties, either the memory, 
 or the understanding, or the will, is called upon to 
 make a new and decided effort. This is the test 
 period, and character here either weakens or 
 toughens, accordingly as it gives up or fights the 
 battle out and conquers. 
 
 We cannot save our children this pain, and we 
 ought not to do so. Teachers should not help 
 their pupils over difficulties too often, else they 
 will fall into the mental habit of deferring al! 
 troubles to a stronger and more indomitable will. 
 And parents should not pity their children for the 
 necessity of working hard and even painfully. All 
 experienced educators recognize the necessity of 
 painful efforts in the beginning of mental labors, 
 but these periods pass, giving place to delightful 
 seasons of exhilaration, and the young learner is 
 cheered on his path, and helped partially over the 
 next painful period also, through having his cour- 
 age stimulated. " For courage is," as Emerson 
 says, " but the memory of past successes." 
 
 The test to apply to a child to ascertain whether 
 he is studying too hard is to observe whether he 
 can rebound quickly after a season of application. 
 If he is in good physical condition, he ought to
 
 An Up-hill Journey 131 
 
 possess the buoyancy which will enable him to 
 throw off all recollection of troublesome problems 
 when the time for play and rest comes. A sharp 
 line ought to be drawn between work and play. 
 The child must lay down his burden and forget its 
 existence sometimes, or else he will become nerv- 
 ous and fretful. The ghosts of partially learned 
 lessons must not haunt his dreams nor dog his en- 
 joyments. A great difficulty with us is that the 
 child studies not too hard, but too continuously. 
 
 He dawdles over tasks that could be finished in 
 half the time by a robust, energetic mind. Why 
 do we not see to it that our children have blood 
 enough to supply the power needed by their 
 brains ? A pale, sallow child should not be re- 
 quired to perform hard mental labor any more 
 than ashes sould be expected to give out heat. 
 Make him exercise, make him eat, make him sleep, 
 make a healthy animal of him, and then set him 
 his lessons, and see how easily he will master them. 
 
 Whenever it is practicable the child should be 
 encouraged to prepare such school lessons as it is 
 necessary to study at home, in the mornings. A 
 lesson learned at night cannot be learned without 
 doins: violence to the natural order of the mind's 
 activity. The natural period of acquisition is in 
 the morning. After a period of rest and recrea- 
 tion there comes a second period in the afternoon
 
 132 An Up-hill Journey 
 
 when study may be pursued, the mind being less 
 vigorous, however, and in the evening the flagging 
 energies can only be stimulated by the will. Have 
 the child go to bed very early and study for an 
 hour before breakfast, and the result will tell favor- 
 ably upon his health and progress.
 
 There is a wild notion among us that as soon as a baby 
 can sit upright it is nice to teach him certain little tricks. 
 Some one initiates him into the mysteries of " patty-cake," 
 and shows him how to " look like papa," or to stretch his 
 arms to show " how much he loves mamma," or something 
 else of the sort. When he has acquired the cunning trick 
 every one torments him to go through it, until, if he could 
 talk, he might say: "Verily, a little knowledge is a danger- 
 ous thing to a baby."
 
 Innocence is Easy Prey 
 
 Life is a strange redistribution of benefits. If 
 at any one time something good comes to us, we 
 discover, presently, that something else we valued 
 has slipped away. Often the good thing is re- 
 placed by what is not so good, or only good in ap- 
 pearance. As we advance in years we learn to 
 doubt unproved blessings and prefer to hold fast 
 to those things we know the worth of, having 
 found by experience that there is just so much 
 store of joy and comfort in the world for any one 
 of us, and that if we have it in one form we canno 
 have it in another. 
 
 But long before learning this we will have suf- 
 fered a great succession of robberies. One canno t 
 make a fair trade until he knows the worth, both 
 of the things he bargains for and of the thing he 
 offers in exchange. The first man who sold the 
 Koh-i-noor diamond took five dollars for it, think- 
 ing he had but a pretty bit of glass. Many men 
 have parted with their Koh-i-noors for a trifle of 
 lucre. Ignorant savages can be cheated out of a 
 fortune by any one who takes the trouble to flatter 
 
 134
 
 Innocence is Easy Prey 135 
 
 their taste for baubles. A baby would surrender 
 to you the title-deeds of the world for a sugar-plum, 
 and as there are many ignorant and innocent 
 dupes, so there are also many cheats, eager to take 
 an advantage. It seems cruel in nature to launch 
 her innocent fledglings among rogues, who will 
 fleece them out of their eyes before they have be- 
 gun even to realize the boon of sight. But we all 
 come into the world thus helpless and unsus- 
 picious, and in our early years we are victimized 
 and deceived even by those who are bound to pro- 
 tect us. 
 
 Any reflecting person who studies for a single 
 day the children who pass under his view in the 
 street, in the parks, and in the households of his 
 friends, cannot but acknowledge that the attempts 
 that are made to deceive and delude them are as 
 numerous as they are reprehensible. Many per- 
 sons seem to think that the quickest and easiest 
 way to force a child to go along a certain path, or 
 to do something he objects to doing, is to frighten 
 him. They do not rightly estimate the influence 
 of fear upon his tender sensibilities. Most chil- 
 dren are converted into cowards before they are 
 five years old by the threats and intimidations of 
 their guardians and nurses. In mere thoughtless- 
 ness mothers themselves not seldom terrorize a 
 baby, not reading rightly the dilated eyes and pal-
 
 136 Innocence is Easy Prey 
 
 ing cheeks which would signify to a physician 
 great mental suffering. 
 
 A short time ago I witnessed, on the street, a 
 little scene which amply corroborates this asser- 
 tion. A father and mother were walking with their 
 two children, one a boy of three or four, the other 
 a mere toddler, whose wayward little feet took him 
 out of the direct path every few minutes. Now he 
 stopped to gaze at a group of little girls on a door- 
 step, playing with their dolls, and again he paused 
 to investigate a bright bit of tinsel lying on the 
 sidewalk. The mother impatiently admonished 
 him every time one of these interruptions to the 
 conventional promenade occurred, and at length 
 as the baby brought himself to a stand before a 
 beautiful large St. Bernard dog, which stood sen- 
 tinel at the gate of a garden, and with a child's 
 instinctive liking for animals, stretched out his 
 hand to touch the friendly creature, the woman 
 cried sharply, " Come away, he'll eat you up ! ' 
 The instant transformation in the child was piti- 
 able. Delight and expectancy were converted by 
 that single sentence into terror and despair. He 
 broke into shrieks and ran toward his mother, who, 
 half ashamed, tried to soothe him by taking back 
 her own words. " No, he won't; stop crying, he 
 won't hurt you ! " What wanton destruction of 
 a child's natural innocent fearlessness, and what a
 
 Innocence is Easy Prey 137 
 
 reckless throwing away by the mother of her little 
 one's trust in her own veracity. Would he put 
 faith in her word next time ? 
 
 One of the worst evils of forcible measures is 
 that there must ordinarily be a palliation of what is 
 said or done in the heat of the first impulse. One 
 finds the consequences unexpectedly serious, mak- 
 ing it necessary to modify rash assertions or miti- 
 gate stern sentences. Even cautious, deliberate 
 persons are tempted to rash acts of which the re- 
 pentance is inevitable, but an emotional, impulsive 
 parent strews his daily path with sparks of temper 
 and showers of regret. 
 
 A large proportion of the commands given to 
 children are meaningless. They are uttered me- 
 chanically and without reflection. Yesterday we 
 saw a little boy, with a bright, happy face, standing 
 on the sidewalk beside the owner of a beautiful 
 team of horses, who was evidently trying to estab- 
 lish friendly relations between them and the child. 
 He was charmed at being allowed to stroke their 
 glossy coats, and seeing his mother at the window 
 called gleefully to her to see how gentle the horses 
 were. But with a frown and shake of the head, 
 she said, " Come away from there, Georgie ! " All 
 the sunshine went out of the little fellow's face, as 
 he turned reluctantly toward the house, obedient 
 to a senseless and unnecessary restricting of his
 
 138 Innocence is Easy Prey 
 
 harmless enjoyment. Why come away ? There 
 was evidently no reason for it. The mother merely 
 spoke unthinkingly, as she probably spoke many 
 times every day, not dreaming that she was be- 
 coming, in the eyes of her child, a meddler and 
 spoil-sport. 
 
 If we want cheerful obedience from our children 
 our commands should have a reason for being. We 
 should restrain ourselves from the constant inter- 
 ference which it seems a parental prerogative 10 
 exercise. A wise man, applied to by a distressed 
 mother, said, " Madam, I have found that with 
 children it is always best to be a little deaf, a little 
 dumb, and a little blind." Were a child suddenly 
 to enter a community of persons afflicted after this 
 manner he might exclaim, as Rip Van Winkle ex- 
 claimed in another connection, " What parents 
 they would make ! ' Self-control would answer 
 the purposes sufficiently well, but few of us are 
 aware how deficient in self-control we really are.
 
 Every one resents being watched. From the highest 
 government official down to the kitchen maid, surveillance 
 is regarded as an insult. Instinctively people desire to be 
 trusted to do right of their own free will, and no one is quite 
 himself, quite true to his best impulses, when under sus- 
 picion. Children are not only happier when they are trusted, 
 but better than when constantly watched. Especially at 
 playtime should they be left free. There is too much regu- 
 lating of play at present, too much suggestion and inter- 
 ference. We forget that spontaneous play is an education 
 to the child, that even while he should " learn by doing," 
 some things that it is highly desirable for him to learn come 
 to him through the untrammelled activity of his own imagi- 
 nation.
 
 Childish Affinities 
 
 Anxious inquiries are made by mothers as to 
 the duty of regulating a child's friendships. Should 
 he be allowed to choose his own companions, or 
 ought they to be selected for him ? In this, as in 
 all other matters, individual needs must be the 
 basis of rules. It is rather unfortunate that we 
 feel the need of making rules about everything. 
 When houses were farther apart, and there were 
 more playgrounds, this matter of companionship 
 among the children settled itself. Neighbors knew 
 one another, and the boys and girls in adjacent 
 homes were supposed to become more or less in- 
 timate, of necessity. 
 
 The old village life brought people closer to- 
 gether, there was no occasion for distrust and sus- 
 picion, because everybody knew who everybody else 
 was. One had to have very grave cause for dis- 
 approval of a neighbor's child before his society 
 could be tabooed. Behavior was the standard 
 then, not social condition. But all that is changed. 
 Friendship has become commercial. The thought 
 is now: What can this person do for me ? We 
 
 140
 
 Childish Affinities 141 
 
 think less of personal qualities than of the benefits 
 to be derived from the association. We want our 
 child to play with this child, or with that one, be- 
 cause the acquaintance is desirable. Is it not true ? 
 Would we not " suffer long and be kind " to the 
 little son of our millionnaire friend, and shut the 
 doors upon the washerwoman's little one when 
 her first act of mischief was committed ? 
 
 This is very human. But since we are moved, 
 even in the depths of our best intentions, by mo- 
 tives that cannot be called elevated, we should be 
 careful about controlling the children in matters 
 where their unguided instinct is as apt to be true as 
 our policy. Children are allured by vice — yes, if 
 they have not been taught the beauty and pleasant- 
 ness of virtue. They are often attracted toward 
 evil-doers, but not because of their vicious acts; be- 
 cause of some graceful and charming quality in 
 them, for the sake of which they forgive every- 
 thing else. 
 
 Bad companions are the more dangerous, that 
 pure and innocent children are apt to see only the 
 brilliancy and fascination of an audacious nature 
 and not realize its mischievous propensities. 
 Guardians should shield their charges from con- 
 tact with evil in every form, but it can be best 
 accomplished by educating the child's own judg- 
 ment, so that he can discriminate for himself be-
 
 142 Childish Affinities 
 
 tween good and evil companionship. It is un- 
 avoidable that he will be very often out of our 
 sight and beyond our supervision. At school he 
 will form intimacies of which parents know noth- 
 ing. Circumstances make it necessary to trust the 
 child. It is wise, then, to make him trustworthy. 
 
 Little harm is to be apprehended from what is 
 frank and open. Danger comes with the element 
 of secrecy. The first principle to be instilled into 
 a child's mind, in regard to association with other 
 children, is that he is never to listen to any lan- 
 guage which he would not want to repeat to his 
 mother; never to participate in any act which he 
 would be ashamed to have known at home. With 
 this one restriction excepted, children ought to be 
 left free, in great measure, to follow their own in- 
 stincts in the choice of their friends. 
 
 Friendship means more to children than it 
 means to grown persons. It makes up a larger 
 part of their lives, and enters more fully into their 
 thoughts and plans. Sensitive, affectionate chil- 
 dren conceive ardent attachments to those of their 
 comrades who inspire admiration for some real or 
 fancied superiority. And unrecognized by himself 
 there dwells in nearly every youthful mind an ideal 
 type by which he is continually testing and trying 
 each new acquaintance. The lover of beauty de- 
 mands the sparkling eye, the waving hair, the
 
 Childish Affinities 
 
 H3 
 
 lovely skin, which are inseparable from his idea of 
 perfection. Another seeks everywhere that inde- 
 finable suitability to surroundings we call grace, 
 and falls a captive to the prettiest dancer and 
 wearer of the most tasteful toilets, while the real 
 hero-worshipper bows down to the best scholar 
 and possessor of recognized talent. Each child 
 unconsciously demands some one thing, and noth- 
 ing else gives satisfaction. 
 
 For there are natural affinities amongst children. 
 There are deep wants of the soul which hunger for 
 gratification, and no mother, however tender, no 
 father, however wise, can be quite sure that in giv- 
 ing their child a proper companion and pleasant 
 playmate they have given him one of whom he can 
 make a friend. Most of the unfortunate attach- 
 ments children form — not necessarily bad associa- 
 tions, but attachments that cause them suffering — 
 are the fault of their elders. If they were not ad- 
 vised so much, not interfered with so often, their 
 instinct would be truer and their judgment would 
 not be bewildered. They would then select their 
 friends for natural reasons, for sympathies, for sup- 
 plemental qualities, and would less often be dis- 
 appointed and cast down by the failure to create 
 a heart's idol out of the clay figure propinquity has 
 cast in their path. " What is more delightful than 
 personal magnetism ? " asks Bronson Alcott.
 
 144 Childish Affinities 
 
 " 'Tis the charm of good fellowship as of good 
 writing." 
 
 We must consider that a child is even more sen- 
 sitive to this ineffable attraction than the most re- 
 fined adult. Never afterward, in all his life, will 
 the enthusiast who, at ten years, twines his arms 
 about the neck of his fidus Achates and vows eter- 
 nal affection, feel the same thrill of delight, which 
 comes to him now from that unreserved abandon- 
 ment. Never again will the little girl who so wor- 
 shipfully regards the dear friend who is taking dolls' 
 tea with her in the nursery, derive the same rapture 
 from intercourse with any one of her future five 
 hundred friends. Nature is strong in the pure, 
 simple heart of childhood. Let us meddle with 
 her reverently.
 
 Children often go to the well and bear away a brimming 
 cup, to have it dashed from their lips just as they are about 
 to taste of it. Such a cup, most probably, will be the box 
 full of treasures which they have spent their summer vaca- 
 tion in accumulating. " Trash ! " the mother calls it dis- 
 dainfully, and she has no room for it in the family winter 
 quarters. Pray, stop, good mother, and look into the mat- 
 ter a little, before throwing away the results of your child's 
 months of labor. Do we not treasure mementos of the 
 past ? Is there not in an old album a few pressed leaves, 
 a battered cup put away in a secret place, an old print or 
 two in a cupboard ? We keep them for the pleasure asso- 
 ciated with them. A child, too, has his associations, and 
 his little heart twines fervently around something that looks 
 to us utterly worthless. Instead of condemning his little 
 properties, let us induce him to look them over, when pack- 
 ing up, and save what he most values. It is such considera- 
 tion as this towards his rights that makes him considerate 
 of others.
 
 Cultivating Taste 
 
 In some respects modern parents are more neg- 
 lectful of their children's character than parents 
 were before the Christian era. They have a con- 
 tempt for their taste. They do not strive to cul- 
 tivate in them a love for the beautiful. The young 
 Greeks had always before their eyes the perfection 
 of form and color. In their dreams were repro- 
 duced pictures full of grace and harmony. But 
 the young American, the young Englishman — na- 
 tives of the two most ambitious countries upon 
 earth — grow up with crude ideas of what consti- 
 tutes beauty. Their parents wait for them to grow 
 to years of discretion before they try to imbue 
 them with this love for the beautiful. They seem 
 to think that when the time of necessity comes 
 they can buy taste for their children, or that it will 
 come into existence suddenly, like Jack's bean- 
 stalk. 
 
 But in the realm of mind there is no mushroom 
 aristocracy: every faculty has its antecedents. 
 When nature has given to a family, as a reward 
 for efforts toward self-culture, the fine sense of ap- 
 preciation, its germ may exist within each individ- 
 
 146
 
 Cultivating Taste 147 
 
 ual soul; but a germ is only a possibility, not a 
 power. To raise it to the distinction of a power 
 what tender, fostering care is necessary, what pa- 
 tience, what zeal ! While the infant is yet lying in 
 his cradle, his staring eyes half perceiving the ceil 
 of the room, half reflecting some dream vision 
 wrought on the inner retina, a sense of his surround- 
 ings sinks into his soul, which takes the cast set 
 for it. 
 
 Give this young soul something beautiful to 
 gaze upon. It has an inherent right to the sur- 
 roundings nature lavishly makes lovely, even to 
 the eyes of the poorest of her children. What are 
 those daubs doing upon the nursery walls, and 
 those grotesque, ugly toys on the durable but 
 hideously patterned carpet ? If he is sensitive, na- 
 ture will protect him by weaving over his eyes the 
 film of indifference so that he will never learn to 
 perceive, and in after years, when the world opens 
 its rich and rare chambers to him, he will turn away 
 into the outer hall in conscious awkwardness and 
 ignorance. 
 
 The tender mother, delicately alive to every 
 shade of disharmony in her own room, is surpris- 
 ingly careless of the surroundings of her child. 
 Anything that is bright, highly colored, striking, 
 is deemed the appropriate ornament for the nurs- 
 ery. Just as the conversation of servants is the
 
 148 Cultivating Taste 
 
 preparation for his entrance to the drawing-room, 
 where men and women whose intellectual gifts are 
 their crowns will criticise him, the cheap ugliness 
 of the refuse of the house fixes his taste. Shall we 
 not treat our child as well as we treat our guest ? 
 If we have little, let us spare him what we can 
 afford. If much, let us believe that it is no waste 
 to bestow on him what we ourselves appreciate. 
 All the young Greeks were not rich. But beauty 
 was a free gift to the poorest. Parents do not need 
 wealth to give them power to educate the aesthetic 
 sense, which is closely connected with the moral 
 nature; they need faith and love. Did they re- 
 spect the germ of taste in their child's soul, it 
 would grow. The day would not then come when 
 his vulgarity would shame their refinement. The 
 time to begin this education is when the baby is 
 just waking to a knowledge of his surroundings. 
 His first glimpse of the world will give him his 
 predisposition. Some fine engravings on the walls 
 of his bedroom, some pretty color, were it cambric 
 or calico, some graceful form to enchain his atten- 
 tion will be the simple means of developing in him 
 that love of the beautiful which never dies.
 
 Children who are left largely to themselves and allowed 
 to draw deductions from facts without being choked by 
 officious classifications at every turn, exhibit capacity to 
 generalize. A kindergartener mentions that a little boy of 
 six, whose faculties had been aroused by loving guidance, 
 from a seemingly dormant state, surprised his father by the 
 following observation: " Some things live and some things 
 only keep." He thus distinguished between the life of ani- 
 mals and plants. An instance of a morbid phase of this 
 power occurs in " Robert Elsmere," where Langdon, the 
 delicate, large-eyed child, plaintively asks his mother, 
 " Mamma, why is it I dislike the things I dislike so much 
 more than I like the things that I like ? " Although, happily, 
 children do not often evince such melancholy power of self- 
 analysis, instances will occur to most parents of some far- 
 reaching remark made by their little ones, in total uncon- 
 sciousness of its breadth of application.
 
 Picture-thinking 
 
 The power of forming pictures in the mind's 
 eye, or of visualizing, as it is called, is not only 
 much greater with some persons than with others, 
 but greater at some periods of life. It belongs par- 
 ticularly to youth. In some children it is very high 
 and they have a difficulty in distinguishing be- 
 tween the objective and subjective world. Their 
 dreams dwell in their memories as pictures so vivid 
 that they can scarcely believe that they were not 
 real happenings. The faculty of visualizing is a 
 natural gift and runs in some families. The child 
 of an emotional, fanciful mother or superstitious 
 father will perhaps have a tendency toward pic- 
 ture-thinking, although in a less happy sort than 
 if his parents were cultivated or talented as well 
 as imaginative. 
 
 The ability to " think in pictures," with such fa- 
 cility that a whole scene can be readily represented, 
 is the distinguishing mark of artistic talent. But 
 it is accompanied by the disadvantage in early 
 years of being mistaken for a tendency to exag- 
 geration, and so is often disciplined to death. Na- 
 
 150
 
 Picture-thinking 151 
 
 ture nearly always weights her fine spirits with 
 some leaden impediment, perhaps that they shall 
 gain strength by having something to overcome. 
 But the fanciful or visualizing mind is apt to be 
 of delicate fibre. Ridicule wounds it, harshness 
 crushes it. So, few persons preserve unto their 
 later years the vitality of imagination that was 
 theirs in childhood. 
 
 Day-dreaming runs in families as night-dream- 
 ing does. Both are the work of the same faculties. 
 By night the brain dreams because the creative 
 faculty is awake, while the others are asleep, and 
 wonderful absurdities are gravely rehearsed with- 
 out exciting criticism, although sometimes it seems 
 as if the person's judgment is roused to make a 
 protest, and utters the cautionary remark, " This 
 is a dream." But by day, when the imagination is 
 active, it is held in check by reason. 
 
 The more prominent the reason the more it con- 
 trols day-dreams. Children have little or no con- 
 trol over them, because their reasoning powers are 
 feeble. Consequently a little one will see two 
 swans in the park and report at home that he has 
 seen a crowd of these feathered beauties; or, he 
 will mingle the might-have-been with the has-been, 
 and say that a troop of soldiers in gold uniforms 
 passed by him yesterday. A tot of two years in- 
 sisted that she saw two white e'ephants in the front
 
 152 Picture-thinking 
 
 yard, where she was playing. Her mother was 
 shocked at the falsehood. But who knows whether 
 that little head did not droop for a few minutes 
 under the sun's heat, and a sudden vision flash be- 
 fore her eyes. To infancy there is no possible or 
 impossible; whatever can be conceived may come 
 to pass. 
 
 The visions of the night often obtain such a 
 strong hold on mature and sober minds that they 
 cannot be shaken off even by the contact of prac- 
 tical, every-day matters. We are obliged to assure 
 ourselves over and over again that this unsettling 
 notion is but a dream. " Confirmation strong as 
 holy writ " can scarce impress us with a sense of 
 its unreality. It is much more difficult for a child 
 to cast off the hallucination. He is less attached 
 to facts; the world has not yet secured a strong 
 hold upon him. 
 
 A little child must often be puzzled to decide 
 what belongs only to his unreal life and what to his 
 real, or to distinguish clearly between one and the 
 other. He passes much of his time on the bor- 
 derland between two worlds, and the puzzled, 
 slowly recognizing look he sometimes gives you 
 is when he is just awakening from a vision that has 
 held his senses enchained. Occasionally he es- 
 says to describe something he has experienced, and 
 is told that he has dreamed it. His clear eyes will
 
 Picture-thinking 153 
 
 open with innocent wonder as he asks, " What is 
 a dream ? " 
 
 Some of us can recollect how, when illness had 
 begun to fasten its hold upon our brains, we lay 
 in bed and watched the figures on the ceiling take 
 strange shapes and fantastic motions: how, when 
 fever set in, sounds varied in intensity, the same 
 kind of sound seeming at one instant low, and at 
 another harsh, and now a succession of noises 
 would drag along and suddenly whirl into a be- 
 wildering, rapid confusion. This mental discom- 
 fort outweighs with some sensitive sufferers severe 
 physical pain, and those who have so suffered do 
 not need assurance that the experience is very real 
 to themselves, although almost incomprehensible 
 to those who have not been through it. 
 
 It is probable that children whose minds are in 
 the unstable period, and more easily thrown out 
 of balance, go through more of these harassing 
 experiences than grown people; but the discom- 
 fort being often of that subtle nature which makes 
 a description of it impossible, they can only give 
 vent to it t>y vague fretting. A feverish cold some- 
 times produces mild delirium, not always recog- 
 nizable as such. One little child, apparently not 
 very ill, seemed to her nurses to show unreasonable 
 impatience and despondency, and was peremptor- 
 ily silenced when making outcries and complaints
 
 154 Picture-thinking 
 
 that no one understood. It was not till two years 
 later, and when undergoing a recurrence of the 
 same sickness, that she was able to express to her 
 father a peculiar and very disagreeable phenomena 
 which he recognized as one that he had himself 
 suffered from when ill. 
 
 When a sick child shows restlessness under some 
 slight annoyance, almost imperceptible to others, 
 he should not be chided. Without being spoiled, 
 this is yet a time for indulgence of whims. No one 
 can say how much a thing is magnified by being 
 passed through an invalid's lens. In fevers the 
 senses are often preternaturally sharp: the ticking 
 of a watch becomes unbearable, and the swaying 
 to and fro of a curtain distorts the whole otherwise 
 serene atmosphere. It is strange that a well per- 
 son can scarcely recall his sensations while sick; 
 never with vividness. But to a sick person the 
 whole world seems ill. As everything which is 
 true of grown people's fancies is even more in- 
 tensely true of children, this is no exception. They 
 often suffer more keenly from the riot of a dis- 
 turbed imagination than any one who has forgot- 
 ten his childhood can believe.
 
 To fall down stairs with a baby is certainly an alarming 
 experience. But few would have the presence of mind of 
 this five-year-old. She had disobeyed orders in trying to 
 carry him, and an awful sense of responsibility rushed over 
 her as she fell. Scarcely, therefore, had she recovered breath, 
 when she cried out, " Oh, auntie, baby is not hurt ! I kept 
 him all the way on top ! "
 
 The Little Mother 
 
 The " good old times " were times of satisfac- 
 tion and peace for the elder members of a family, 
 and of anything but satisfaction to the younger 
 members. The first son was the heir, the first 
 daughter of more importance than succeeding 
 ones. The mere fact of priority conferred an in- 
 disputable right to command service. The little 
 ones waited upon the elder brother and sister and 
 submitted unresistingly to their authority. Per- 
 haps their turn came later, but so long as the fam- 
 ily remained together the younger persons were 
 " the children," with no settled or acquired rights, 
 and their preferences were of the last considera- 
 tion. 
 
 How changed is all this ! Sometimes it seems 
 as if Justice, instead of keeping her scales equally 
 balanced, merely absolves herself of the duty of 
 fair play by giving free scope in one period to a 
 certain set of people and in another period permit- 
 ting another set to come uppermost. This is not 
 only the day of the younger generation, but of the 
 
 156
 
 The Little Mother 157 
 
 youngest generation. " Baby is king." The elder 
 brother and sister are his servants, whether will- 
 ing or unwilling to accept that position. The af- 
 fairs of the household are arranged upon the basis 
 of his necessities, real or fancied, and in some in- 
 stances he becomes the small tyrant of the tribe. 
 
 Departing from the metaphor, that some ruling 
 fate is responsible for the condition mortals find 
 themselves in, it must be admitted that we mani- 
 fest, ordinarily, very little of that strict and impar- 
 tial justice that is always so admirable in theory. 
 Parents love " the line of least resistance." They 
 are terrorized by something that has the faculty of 
 noisy opposition, and find it easier to make more 
 reasonable creatures give way to the less reason- 
 able than to train the latter to make proper con- 
 cessions. 
 
 The " Moloch of a baby," which one of our lat- 
 ter day writers has memorialized as the devourer 
 of a devoted sister's happiness and strength, is, 
 unhappily, no hero of fiction. In the households 
 of the laboring class he is especially in evidence. 
 It is often a necessity here for the child of eight 
 or ten to become the nursery governess, the unpaid 
 drudge, the slave of the tribe of younger ones. 
 The mother who should take care of them is a 
 wage-earner; the "little mother" must step into 
 the vacant place.
 
 158 The Little Mother 
 
 The dreary lives of these poor little drudges ex- 
 cite deep compassion in the minds of the pitiful 
 and sympathetic friends of children. But there is 
 also much that is deserving of sympathy in the 
 situation of the seniors in what are called refined 
 and educated households, where the means, if not 
 ample, are not so straitened as to make it essential 
 for " little mothers '" to exist. It is here not so 
 often a matter of necessity as of convenience for 
 the mother to delegate many of her own duties to 
 the faithful and conscientious elder sister, who, 
 when the baby first comes, is delighted to take care 
 of it, not knowing how onerous the task may 
 finally become. 
 
 Mothers do not always understand how heavily 
 the sense of responsibility weighs upon a little girl 
 of this earnest nature. When she is told " not to 
 let anything happen to the baby " during her care 
 of it, perhaps a whole afternoon or evening, she 
 feels an excess of anxiety which no hireling would 
 permit herself to be troubled by for a moment. 
 This is partly through affection, but more 
 through her feeling of inefficiency to prevent acci- 
 dent. She needs protection herself, and it is a 
 strain upon her to become the protector of an- 
 other. It is, of course, natural and proper that 
 elder ones should assist in the care of the younger 
 brothers and sisters, but a thoughtful parent will
 
 The Little Mother 159 
 
 take care that the little assistant is not made the 
 responsible guardian. 
 
 But the cross which is most generally imposed 
 upon the " little big brother and sister " is to make 
 them give up their property to the smaller ones. 
 The baby cries for sister's French doll, and the 
 careful owner, who has guarded it as the apple of 
 her eye, is persuaded or commanded to let him 
 have it, and the damage it sustains in consequence 
 is the reward of her sacrifice. Would mamma give 
 baby her watch to play with ? Yet she asks 
 brother to let him have the soldiers or the domi- 
 noes, and if the set is spoiled she forgets to console. 
 She will let ruthless little fingers meddle with the 
 neatly kept playhouse or book-shelf, because it is 
 too much trouble to prevent the pillage. It is not 
 a wonder that sometimes the affection of the se- 
 niors in a family is turned to bitterness, and they 
 wish the baby had never come to make havoc of 
 their pleasure and comfort. 
 
 This tyranny of the younger faction is the swing- 
 ing back of the pendulum. Babies are having 
 their day. But let us hope that the intelligence 
 of parents in this age will harmonize the interests 
 which have, in ruder times, so conflicted, and by 
 the exercise of a finer sense of justice bring about 
 a system of equality in the household. Every 
 child has natural rights which should never be sub-
 
 IOO 
 
 The Little Mother 
 
 ordinated to the claims of brother or sister. All 
 should rank alike in the parents' eyes, and the hap- 
 piness of the large one and the tiny one be at all 
 times the subject of equal consideration.
 
 Beecher, who possessed one of those marvellously sym- 
 pathetic temperaments which enabled him to enter acutely 
 into the feelings of children, remarked, when talking of the 
 melancholy which sometimes attacks them: "There is no 
 such lonesomeness as that the young feel before they have 
 applied their powers in life and vindicated their place in so- 
 ciety. It is dreariness." Persons who have forgotten this 
 period in their lives may be reminded of it through associa- 
 tion where they experience that feeling which comes to most 
 of us sometimes: a longing for a home in the world, for a 
 particular niche, a place and a function peculiarly our own. 
 Sympathy, not cold reproof, ought to visit a child who is 
 passing through this stage of his existence.
 
 An Inevitable Separation 
 
 " Family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. 
 Nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us to- 
 gether by bone and muscle, and divides us by the 
 subtler web of our brains." There comes to us 
 suddenly, at times, a strange sense of aloofness 
 from one we regard as especially like ourselves. 
 The child who has stood learning his lessons at his 
 mother's knee, looks up at her one day with a 
 whole world of new feeling in his eyes, and in the 
 quickening of latent powers she has not suspected 
 he becomes a new being, one whom she can no 
 longer wholly comprehend. 
 
 He is her own boy still: there are the same eyes; 
 
 the same trick of that curl of the lips, and the very 
 
 motion of the hand, by which he for the first time 
 
 makes dissent from her opinion, proclaim him one 
 
 of her kith and kin. And yet they are divided; 
 
 for some instinct from this hour draws him along 
 
 in a path of thinking which she has never entered 
 
 and could not enter. The stirring of blood in his 
 
 veins which is not hers, but his father's, gives him 
 
 a separate life. Mentally isolated, the same roof 
 
 covers them, and at table, at the hearth, every- 
 
 162
 
 An Inevitable Separation 163 
 
 where, the obligations of family relationship seem 
 to entreat for an intimacy of the inner life which 
 cannot exist. 
 
 Parents resent the inevitable hour of mental 
 separation. This is the real flight of the young 
 bird from the home nest; the going out into the 
 world with untried pinions which flutter obedient 
 to some ambition coming down from a grand- 
 mother who is dust. The going off to school, the 
 entrance into business is not the radical change. 
 The mother does not lose her boy when he goes 
 to college, nor her daughter the day she marries 
 her. Could she but know it, the loss took place 
 years ago, in that hour when there flashed up in 
 the clashing of two diverse natures the spark of 
 dissension destined to become a settled unlikeness 
 of feeling and opinion, lasting for life. 
 
 Can one lose what he never had ? How much 
 there is about our children that does not belong 
 to us, that will ever remain to us a mystery! There 
 is a must in all those characteristics we think 
 strange, which impels them to take issue against 
 our wishes. The strings which in us and in them 
 are of like fibre will always vibrate in unison. But 
 there are others, meant to make music not for our 
 ears, and with which we have naught to do. 
 
 Traits which seem alike are often as dissimilar 
 as the varieties of rose which own the same
 
 164 An Inevitable Separation 
 
 hedge plant for ancestor, but neither exhale in 
 themselves the same perfume, nor glow with the 
 same hues. The father thinks his son possessed 
 of his own will power, and refrains from coercing 
 the boy, who astounds him by showing later the 
 peevish flicker of narrow prejudice and obstinacy, 
 instead of the steady heat of devotion to a princi- 
 ple. Maternal complacency is flattered by the ex- 
 hibition on the part of the baby daughter of a cer- 
 tain precocity and propriety of expression which 
 promises to reproduce madame's own social tact, 
 and lo ! the girl's little gift blossoms out into one 
 of those rare talents of eloquence which announce 
 her unmistakably a leader among an earnest and 
 aspiring circle of workers, whose aims and ideas 
 are as remote as the poles from those of her 
 mother. Dare we pretend to claim, while they are 
 yet in the germ, faculties and passions whose end 
 our wildest imagination cannot presage ! There 
 is a law of variation, but as yet no one knows what 
 it is. Until we know it, let us look reverently 
 upon unexpected and startling departures from 
 parental stock.
 
 In the diary of a young girl of thirteen occurred this re- 
 markable sentence: "At least, there is one thing I have now 
 that I shall not have when I am older and my life has be- 
 come fixed; I have hope and anticipation, for while the future 
 is before me and all is uncertain, anything may happen; 
 even my sweetest dreams may come true." The child un- 
 wittingly touched upon the one great mental difference be- 
 tween youth and maturity, the buoyancy and enthusiasm of 
 the former, as contrasted with the more sombre reflections 
 natural to a period of liff- when reverie brings to the present 
 hour fetters to chain aspirations and teach the pitiless limita- 
 tions of hope. Childhood should be cheerful, because it has 
 no past to look back upon. Encourage its rosy dreams, 
 instead of croaking in its ears. The longer youthful en- 
 thusiasm can be made to last, the better for the world.
 
 Cheerfulness 
 
 Cheerfulness is the one essential condition in 
 a child's social atmosphere. Loving order, he can 
 endure slovenliness; appreciating beautiful sur- 
 roundings, he can reconcile himself to a bare room 
 where the plaster is crumbling and the boards 
 splinter under his feet; and with a heart craving 
 fortenderness and sympathy, he can put this natural 
 longing, in a great measure, out of his mind, if 
 only the people about him are a contented, merry- 
 set, given to making the best of life. 
 
 Has it not been remarked over and over again 
 that a child delicately bred and used to refined 
 company, will steal out of the parlor and sit by the 
 hour on a hard chair in the kitchen, only for the 
 chance of hearing the unrestrained hilarities that 
 prevail there ? It is not so much a desire for un- 
 refined society as a longing for something hearty 
 and jovial. The subdued tones and gently plain- 
 tive modulations of the cultivated part of the 
 household often produce in him a nameless depres- 
 sion. The atmosphere is laden with a dead weight 
 of experiences too lofty for him to comprehend 
 and pervaded with a certain quality of prudent dis- 
 
 166
 
 Cheerfulness 167 
 
 trust and reserve that tortures him by its continual 
 suggestion that life is not what he wants it to be 
 and what it seems natural to him that it should be, 
 but a sort of lesson to be learned with pain and dis- 
 satisfaction. What a contrast is the open-hearted 
 kitchen with its commonplace, happy-go-lucky in- 
 mates, and its bustle of every-day occupation ! If 
 the cook is a good-tempered woman, and the 
 maids, as they are wont to be, young, vivacious, 
 and talkative, the child is apt to desire, as the one 
 did who was promised a sojourn among the im- 
 maculate angels, " a chance to frolic with the little 
 devils every Saturday night ! " 
 
 But not only is a cheerful household atmosphere 
 conducive to a child's happiness, but it helps him 
 to be good. Optimism attracts him irresistibly, 
 and he will attach himself with ardor to the person 
 who has a genial smile and a pleasant word for 
 everybody; who seems to believe that the world 
 is a good place, on the whole, and the men and 
 women in it well-meaning people. Whenever a 
 child's judgment of character is deceived, and he 
 is fascinated by a person totally unworthy, it will 
 be found that the evil in this nature was over- 
 balanced by the magic of cheerfulness. Happi- 
 ness magnetizes him, and he will become enslaved, 
 even, by the person who radiates satisfaction and 
 merriment. So the father and mother whose men-
 
 1 68 Cheerfulness 
 
 tal tone is that of ordinary contentment, and who 
 generally " look on the bright side," have little 
 trouble in governing their children. As they ex- 
 pect the best, they get it. It is a matter of course 
 that the younger members of the family feel con- 
 strained to live up to the standard of the elders. 
 
 It is not enough to be sincere, industrious, and 
 law-abiding members of the community to secure 
 the welfare of our children. We must also be at 
 least satisfied and hopeful, if not happy. There is 
 a great deal of inevitable misery in the world, and 
 many innocent victims, but — the miserable should 
 not have children. Gloom and despondency are 
 the parents of turpitude and . desperation. The 
 constitutionally depressed person, the one given to 
 " megrims " and who " meets trouble half-way " 
 Should consider it a most solemn duty to guard 
 against the possibility of offspring. There is no 
 doubt that children whose heritage dates from a 
 period of melancholy and clouded spirits in their 
 parents will enter upon life not only predisposed 
 to gloom, but to rebellion against law and disci- 
 pline.
 
 There are some well-meaning persons in the world who 
 seem expressly constituted for the torment and destruction 
 of the younger generation. One such person in a house- 
 hold — it may be an aunt or a grandmother, or an elderly 
 friend — can work more harm in an hour than months can 
 undo. She comments upon the children's appearance, upon 
 their mood, their manner: if they are grave, she admonishes 
 them; if they are merry, she either restrains or admires; 
 no look or word can pass without remark, and her atten- 
 tions have the effect of making the children self-conscious 
 and embarrassed to a degree. There is a certain tormenting 
 little game that children play with each other which this 
 recalls. One girl will watch another sharply, and if the first 
 raises her hand she calls out, " That's right, miss, I want 
 you to do so;" if she closes her eyes or bobs her head, 
 again comes the refrain, "Go on, don't stop; I like to see 
 you bob your head," and so on, until the victim is almost 
 frantic. But why should elderly persons play these pranks ? 
 It shows a great want of wit and penetration.
 
 A Family Tyrant 
 
 In many houses there is at least one inmate who 
 has had his or her lines cast among unpleasant 
 places in this world, and who exhales bitterness, 
 or at least mild misery. Such a person can poison 
 the whole atmosphere; all the grown people catch 
 more or less of the infection, and the child's horizon 
 is completely overcast. A moment's jollity is fol- 
 lowed by swift recollection of the awful responsi- 
 bilities and cares that press heavily. Some one is 
 ready to check mirth as if it were contraband. 
 " Don't be foolish," would-be wisdom admonishes. 
 Among the colored people of the South is an old 
 aphorism which they din into the ears of the 
 young: " Yo' is eatin' yer white bread now, child, 
 yo' is seein' yer best days; make de mos' of 'em." 
 This warning is sufficient to pull up the sprightliest 
 reveller and make him thoughtful. 
 
 Equally to be dreaded is that too common factor 
 of some households, a perfectly self-engrossed per- 
 sonage impressed with the idea that he is the cen- 
 tripetal force of all family life; that its machinery 
 
 170
 
 A Family Tyrant 171 
 
 is to move faster or slower in accurate interpreta- 
 tion of his wishes. Sometimes this tyrant is the 
 mother herself, ruling the family through her lan- 
 guid peevishness. Voices must be lowered to 
 whispers, only such dishes prepared as suit her own 
 fancies; people are to come and go at her conve- 
 nience. The absolute sovereignty of such a woman, 
 fortified against rebuke by a triple layer of vanity, 
 is well illustrated in the character of Rosamond, 
 in the novel " Middlemarch." But more often it 
 is some pampered son who plays this part of family 
 tyrant. His appearance is the signal for a little 
 flutter of anxiety, a redistribution of affairs; every 
 one is made slightly uncomfortable lest he should 
 fail to be comfortable. In an English household 
 the elder son is mounted at birth upon this ped- 
 estal, and doting sisters and subservients conspire 
 to feed his exalted opinion of his own importance. 
 It is but just to American men to say that they 
 are seldom objects of terror in their households. 
 And yet in proportion to the rarity with which 
 they assume this position is their complete assump- 
 tion of it upon occasion. There is an old saying 
 that spoiled sons make bad husbands. They also 
 make bad heads of households. Unhappy beyond 
 comparison is that family dominated over by a man 
 who in his boyhood had everything give way to 
 him, and who has grown up in the profound belief
 
 iji A Family Tyrant 
 
 that upon his preservation depends largely the wel- 
 fare of the race. His egotism is thus sanctioned, 
 and knows no limits. " In our presence," says 
 Mrs. Stowe's heroine, the pretty and imperious 
 Eva Van Arsdale, " men have got to give over 
 absorbing, and begin radiating." But our egoist 
 Who sits in the midst of the family as an embodied 
 representation of Power condescends to no such 
 necessity- There are two types: the talking dog- 
 matist and the silent egoist, whose taciturnity is 
 subject to outbreaks of temper and relapses into 
 sullenness. The presence of the former embitters 
 others and rouses them to rebellion; that of the 
 latter freezes sensitive natures and crushes spon- 
 taneity. The habit of cheery interchanges, of in- 
 terested and interesting talk is not only lost, but 
 the reservoirs of expression seem to dry up. The 
 meeting together of member? of the family be- 
 comes a mockery. Each one feels his own in- 
 significance. His individuality is stunned, and 
 waits to regain itself under new conditions. 
 
 There are, of course, certain natures which are 
 inherently lacking in any capacity for expansion; 
 thin, bloodless beings marked out by destiny for 
 conventual isolation. They may be drawn out if 
 their friends have sufficient vitality to expend for 
 the purpose, and sometimes these efforts are re- 
 warded 'by a glow of thankfulness, an outburst of
 
 A Family Tyrant 173 
 
 devotion. The mind that has been living a frozen, 
 starved existence has reason to be grateful to the 
 benefactor who opens its prison and lets in 
 warmth and light. So the spectacle is not un- 
 common of a warm-blooded, vivid creature fol- 
 lowed and attended by a hypnotized satellite who 
 seems to live in the radiance cast by the richer 
 nature. The attachments of children are fre- 
 quently of this sort. The child who is physically 
 or mentally weak is strongly attracted to an im- 
 perious, brilliant comrade upon whom he lavishes 
 an affection little short of worship. 
 
 A parent who has this gift of magnetism may be 
 as imperious as he pleases and yet be loved; for 
 with such a nature he is sure to possess a social 
 disposition which makes him desire the sympathy 
 and companionship of his family. He needs love, 
 seeks it, and obtains it. But there are no half-way 
 houses in the road of human relations; we must 
 either fulfil our obligations to others or neglect 
 them. We must either make our associates happy, 
 or be responsible for the denial of the happiness we 
 might have wrought for them. So the unpardon- 
 able offence is self-sufficiency; that cold, cruel 
 aloofness which holds others at a distance, and 
 makes even a kindness conferred appear a per- 
 functory, unwilling concession. As " a little 
 leaven leaveneth the whole lump," so the self-
 
 174 A Family Tyrant 
 
 engrossment of a strong, powerful nature compe- 
 tent to create sunshine for all about him, becomes 
 a dread paralysis which extends to the outermost 
 rim of his family circle.
 
 A great improvement in the temper of children will take 
 place when average parents substitute for two time-honored, 
 cold-blooded phrases two other more natural ones. Sup- 
 pose, instead of a continual " Keep quiet " and " Keep clean," 
 should be said cheerfully, " Run about freely," and " Never 
 mind clothes, they can be washed." This would be a new 
 Magna Charta to many tormented little creatures. In real- 
 ity, fragile clothing that must be continually thought of is 
 as much a strait-jacket as the old-fashioned canvas things 
 called by that name. If we could give our little ones the 
 aboriginal covering of feathers or fur to grow up in, they 
 would be happy and healthy; since we cannot, let us give 
 them waterproof and homespun. And never torture them 
 bv that cruel refrain, " Keep clean."
 
 Energy and Temper 
 
 Nothing is more misunderstood in children, 
 nor more injudiciously dealt with, than what is 
 called temper. Really temper is in itself nothing 
 more than a form of energy, a vehemence in act- 
 ing. Stephen Girard is said to have preferred as 
 clerks men with strong tempers, and when he met 
 one he would employ him and set him to work in 
 a room by himself; his opinion being that such 
 men were the most efficient, and that their energy 
 would spend itself in work when removed from the 
 temptation to quarrel. 
 
 An irascible disposition, however, is rather dif- 
 ferent from the vehement self-will ordinarily called 
 temper. It is usually an accompaniment of physi- 
 cal weakness, and has to be met by the same kind 
 of tact a nurse exercises toward her patient; while, 
 on the contrary, a strong temper is irritated by 
 such soothing methods. What it requires is a 
 chance to work off its overplus of force; it wants 
 to charge at something, to storm a fortress, strike 
 heavy blows, and be put in a position calling for 
 precision and directness. Persons of this character 
 are usually good shots, fearless riders, and know 
 
 176
 
 Energy and Temper 177 
 
 how to command soldiers. In other words, strong 
 temper is a kind of courage, a natural instinct to 
 dominate the situation. It becomes passion when 
 every other outlet for it is suppressed. 
 
 What should be done with a child possessed of 
 this self-will is to put him at some work calling for 
 muscular effort. If a boy, let him split kindling, 
 make a fence, drive nails, run the errands; and let 
 his playthings be something that he can put 
 through motions — rocking-horses, swings, tools. 
 It is unwise to make him perform labor, either 
 physical or mental, that is monotonous in charac- 
 ter. ' The Arab barb makes a bad roadster." 
 Many children that are now daily punished for 
 some manifestation of ill temper would be admired 
 for their bright and sunny natures, if they were not 
 driven to sullenness by having all their faculty for 
 exertion hampered, and their fighting instinct 
 wrongly aroused by opposition. The instinct of 
 self-assertion is a proper one, in itself. Judiciously 
 trained, it becomes capacity for overcoming diffi- 
 culties, not exactly after the meek and patient 
 manner of perseverance, but with a sort of fiery 
 resolution. Men and women of this character 
 have their place in the world and are indispensable 
 in some emergencies. They usually begin life with 
 a large capacity for both love and hate, and either 
 may be brought out by their early education.
 
 178 Energy and Temper 
 
 We may develop in a child a fairly strong feeling 
 of hatred by beginning while he is yet in the cradle 
 to thwart his will for the sake of teaching him sub- 
 mission. Strong natures never can learn to sub- 
 mit except to two things: the force of circum- 
 stances, and love. One golden rule of the nursery 
 is: avoid personal encounters. Rancor is a cen- 
 tury-plant; it may blossom but once in an age, 
 but it lives and grows while it seems dull and past 
 blooming. A fight between parent and child 
 leaves scars that no soothing touches of kindness 
 can quite efface, and whoever conquers loses some- 
 thing that never should have been jeopardized — 
 his respect for the character of the other. For the 
 instant we cease to respect we begin to despise and 
 tyrannize. It is so with parent, as with child. 
 
 In the life of almost every adult there has come 
 an hour when, with voice of anguish, he has ut- 
 tered a protest, bitter and prolonged, against some 
 over-ruling, immitigable destiny. The deepest 
 faith trembles to its foundation at the shock of 
 some happening which apparently could only be 
 dictated by a malignant power. Injustice para- 
 lyzes. The faculties refuse to act in that freezing 
 air. The whole nature falls into a state of des- 
 pondency, and only recuperates when its confi- 
 dence in the existence of an impartial law is 
 restored. No man is so misanthropic as one
 
 Energy and Temper 179 
 
 whom accumulated misfortunes has driven to a be- 
 lief in his ill luck; and most persons would find 
 great griefs insupportable but for the alleviating 
 trust that what seems for the time wholly evil con- 
 tains an element of benevolence. Men and women 
 are seldom brought directly face to face with the 
 real thing that unjustly dominates them. Circum- 
 stances — and not a master — stop their course, and 
 to circumstances they find it possible to submit 
 when it would not be possible to yield to a personal 
 force. 
 
 This consternation, felt when the results of our 
 endeavors are disappointing, and when it seems 
 as if we deserved better things of Providence, is 
 the feeling that comes with crushing force upon 
 children many times during the subjective period 
 of their lives. Instead of the vague and invisible 
 mastery of circumstances, they have before them 
 real, tangible masters in their parents. Not only 
 are their actions controlled, but their motives are 
 judged, their impulses are interpreted. Parents 
 are like society; they draw positive conclusions, 
 and whether they are right ones or erroneous ones, 
 there is no appeal from them. 
 
 So long as parents judge justly and act fairly 
 the children feel in their oversight only that pleas- 
 ant protection which confers a sense of peace and 
 safety. They rest happily under a paternal, benefi-
 
 180 Energy and Temper 
 
 cent government. But what confusion they fall 
 into when this justice they confide in shows itself 
 to be harsh, hasty, and selfish; when they are ac- 
 cused of intentions they never dreamed of, and 
 when their mistakes or peccadilloes are magnified 
 into deliberate acts of wickedness. They stand 
 silent, or make bewildered protests, finding no 
 words to voice the grief and despair that fill their 
 hearts. Their beneficent providence has turned 
 into a cruel fate, and they go forth from that day 
 with the seeds of doubt in their minds ready to 
 sprout into the full bloom of bitter despondency 
 upon the next first occasion. 
 
 It is not possible for parents to be always just; 
 that is to be omniscient. But since they are falli- 
 ble they should limit themselves in the exercise of 
 their power. Only a being entirely perfect can 
 safely be trusted with absolute power. A parent 
 should train himself to be deliberate, to pause and 
 say to himself, " I may be mistaken, things may 
 not be as they seem; appearances are against the 
 child, still, in intent and purpose he may be inno- 
 cent. I will suspend my judgment." 
 
 He will be able then to recollect that in judging 
 a child the one sort of proof nearly always em- 
 ployed is circumstantial evidence. Among adults 
 this is always allowed to be more or less uncertain, 
 and so far as regards motive it is decidedly so. And
 
 Energy and Temper i 8 1 
 
 a child's motives are what must chiefly be con- 
 sidered. His acts are often but vague and faulty 
 expressions of his aims. Large allowance ought 
 to be made for his lack of adaptability. He often 
 fails to do what he fully intended to do, and accom- 
 plishes something less desirable. Are adults, with 
 all their experience, exempt from this tendency to 
 blunder ? The tendency is far greater in a child. 
 But even when parents are convinced that their 
 child has intentionally offended them, let them re- 
 call their own sensations when they have deliber- 
 ately gone against their convictions of what is 
 right. They hope that a beneficent Providence 
 will not deal with them according to their deserts, 
 but will temper justice with mercy. We should 
 deal with children according to their deserts; for 
 their own sake it must be done. Yet, let us temper 
 justice with mercy.
 
 A comical instance of most unconscious childish egotism 
 is the following: It was on the occasion of a steamer ex- 
 cursion down the Potomac River, that, on the return voyage, 
 when about a quarter of a mile from land, the wheel broke 
 and the boat was compelled to lie motionless in midstream 
 till morning, when a tug arrived and towed her to land. 
 The night was burning hot, and as it was a day boat there 
 were no sleeping accommodations for the three hundred pas- 
 sengers, who consequently reclined around on the decks and 
 wore out the night as they could. Some one started a song, 
 and this suggested a series of glees which were proceeding 
 with considerable liveliness when there came an odd little 
 interruption. Three-year-old Horace, accustomed to all the 
 luxuries of downy couch and absolute quiet when it was his 
 sovereign pleasure to sleep, found the improvised bed on 
 the cabin sofa and the oil lamps insupportable. When the 
 singing began it was the drop too much. Suddenly his small 
 figure appeared in the doorway of the cabin, outlined 
 against the brightness within, and as he peered forth onto 
 the dark decks, his clear little treble rang out in the most 
 reproachful accents: "Mamma ! I can't go to sleep in all 
 this noise ! " And then there was an amazed pause of a few 
 seconds, succeeded by a shout of laughter from the offending 
 three hundred, which made the young prince retreat in in- 
 dignant confusion.
 
 Baby Wants a Corner 
 
 The common experience is that baby and his 
 belongings spread all over the house. The little 
 baby is, in truth, a sort of octopus, with arms that 
 embrace every quarter. But despite these aggres- 
 sions — for which he is himself not to 'blame — he 
 has no hold upon any locality, but is moved hither 
 and thither, dislodged without notice, and hunted 
 from pillar to post as if his small presence and his 
 small properties were inflictions to be shaken off 
 whenever chance offers. And if at one year he is 
 considered a nuisance, at two he is an interloper, 
 without permanent privilege or the least tenure of 
 possession upon any spot in the house. 
 
 This is true of the majority; there are exception- 
 ally favored individuals, young princes of the 
 blood, born into command of a miniature king- 
 dom. But the baby belonging to the average 
 household, none too large for the wants of father 
 and mother, and perhaps the big brother and sister, 
 has no settled locality, and must wage a sort of 
 guerilla warfare on his inhospitable relations in be- 
 half of his dolls, his wagons, his blocks, and his 
 
 books. 
 
 183
 
 184 Baby Wants a Corner 
 
 No one knows (who has not been a baby) how 
 bleak the world is to a baby who has no little home 
 of his own; no tiny realm within the larger one, 
 toward which his heart can turn with a thrill of 
 pride and thankfulness such as older people feel in 
 their own domain. Baby wants a nook that he can 
 call all his own, a corner of which he is lord and 
 proprietor, that he can picture in his mind when 
 absent from it, as sure to be just in the condition 
 he left it. What pleasant memories and thoughts 
 cluster about such a spot we outsiders can scarcely 
 guess. We are not wont to give him credit for 
 much sentiment. But we have seen a certain little 
 toddler who was made the happy lord of such a 
 corner, large enough to hold a low table and chair 
 and box of toys, rush in from his morning walk, 
 and before mittens or bonnet could be removed, 
 peer into his drawer and search for every pencil 
 and other possession, to see that everything was 
 undisturbed. 
 
 And another mite, a girl of three, who was pro- 
 vided when on a visit with some toys, made herself 
 a miniature bedroom in a corner of the parlor, and 
 could only be prevailed upon to leave when the 
 assurance was given that she should find the things 
 in the same place when she came again. On the 
 way home she asked her mother twice, " Mamma, 
 will my bureau be there when I go back ? "
 
 Baby Wants a Corner 185 
 
 Surely in all but the poorest households a niche 
 can be spared for baby. Let him have his low- 
 chair and tiny table, with a shelf for his toys, and 
 regard his tenant right as sacred. Do we want 
 our children to be honest and fair in their deal- 
 ings ? Then let us give them a chance to acquire 
 just views early. What can a mother expect who 
 tells her child sternly, as a mother was overheard 
 saying to her little girl the other day: " It makes 
 no difference what you want ! " And there was a 
 scornful accent on the pronoun which must have 
 aroused a thrill of bitter resentment in that young 
 heart, humiliated so unnecessarily. 
 
 It does make a difference what the child wants, 
 all the difference in the world; for suppressed de- 
 sires do not die, they only lie hid till the time comes 
 when they can obtain satisfaction. It is our duty 
 to try and lead our child to want the right things. 
 And to this end we ought to gratify his natural 
 and innocent preferences. He comes to us a 
 guest, ready to be sweet and kind and gracious 
 in the measure of our being so to him. Let us 
 welcome him and make him, as we aim to make 
 our older visitors — at home.
 
 One of the things happily hid from us is a knowledge of 
 the twists and knots made in our characters by the struggles 
 undergone early in life. It is customary to say, with some 
 complacency, " I had a pretty hard time in my young days, 
 but I haven't made the worse man (or woman) for it." 
 How do we know that ? Perhaps we were made narrow, 
 unsympathetic, selfish, by the very trials that seemed to have 
 left no mark. Adversity tells against the plant, against the 
 animal, and it does not let man escape without hurt. The 
 doctrine of misery being good for people, is exploded. Hap- 
 piness is good for them, and there is no need to wish for 
 hardships for our children to develop their character. As well 
 wish that they should stand perpetually with rain beating on 
 their uncovered heads so they might be hardened against 
 a possible storm. There is no better bulwark against the 
 inevitable miseries in an adult's life than the mental health 
 built up from a carefully guarded and happy childhood. 
 Strains made then tell on us in some way in maturity, surely, 
 though we do not know it.
 
 Nothing Lasts but Love 
 
 Nothing more forcibly betrays the lack of a 
 good understanding between a child and his par- 
 ents than the sort of conduct in public which is 
 sometimes called "taking advantage." In the cars, 
 in the street, in places of amusement, there are per- 
 petual manifestations of this wayward spirit, and 
 the observer is led sometimes to wonder at the pa- 
 tience and forbearance of parents who endure teas- 
 ing and defiance of advice with seemingly unruffled 
 equanimity. 
 
 Why is it that the child who is somewhat upon 
 his guard about giving offence when at home, be- 
 comes a veritable imp of perversity in public ? It 
 must be because he derives a sense of security from 
 the presence of spectators. He has learned that 
 his mother or father has a " company manner/' 
 that the pleasant voice and smile that go with out- 
 door garments will not lightly be exchanged for 
 frowns and reproaches. The simplicity of a two- 
 year-old child penetrates the secret of that con- 
 ventional law which obliges persons to restrain 
 themselves when under observation, and with in- 
 fantile lack of foresight he trusts to his parents' 
 
 187
 
 i 88 Nothing Lasts but Love 
 
 bad memory as an escape from the reckoning 
 whisperingly promised. 
 
 The only real security we can have that our child 
 will not become a cause of uneasiness and mortifi- 
 cation when strangers are present to protect him 
 from punishment, is in the possession of his friend- 
 ship and good will. Is it too great a condescen- 
 sion for a parent to be on really friendly relations 
 with his child, to lay aside that cumbersome " dig- 
 nity of office " which interferes with his kindly in- 
 tentions, and rely upon personal influence and 
 affection to bring about what is best, instead of 
 upon a dread authority ? It is not going too far to 
 say that whenever a child is led to do right through 
 fear of punishment only, he might as well, so far 
 as concerns the effect upon his own character, do 
 wrong. We should aim to reach his heart, and 
 not stop with consideration of his conduct; for 
 when we have controlled him in this or that act 
 we cannot be sure that the next turn of circum- 
 stances will not lead him toward evil-doing; but 
 if we have succeeded in gaining his confidence so 
 that he believes our advice to have a foundation 
 of sincerity and kindliness, he will seek to know 
 our opinion upon all matters, and prefer to be 
 guided by it. 
 
 Force can never be anything but a temporary 
 restraint. It may be necessary in the case of hope-
 
 Nothing Lasts but Love 189 
 
 less criminals, but in family life it is the worst mode 
 of government. Even for the parent himself it is 
 inconvenient and exhausting, for he must be ever 
 upon the alert to check encroachment, vigilant to 
 restrain, prompt to punish. Upon the theory that 
 he is the autocrat of the household, and that a 
 thing must be done because he wills it — not be- 
 cause it is right — are built all those heart-burnings 
 and suspicions which make intercourse between 
 elders and children a condition of active hostility 
 or armed peace. No wonder that public exhibi- 
 tions of childish rebellion and parental battles are 
 common, when mutual respect is lacking. Let 
 that once be well established, and there would be 
 an end to bickering and argument, and all the dis- 
 tressing scenes that are now but too common.
 
 The love of privilege is natural to all children. Whether 
 the thing granted as a favor is particularly agreeable or not, 
 it is seized upon with avidity. We all remember how Mark 
 Twain's inimitable "Tom Sawyer" sold out his job of white- 
 washing which his aunt had meant as a punishment, to sev- 
 eral of his friends at the price of marbles, tops, and pen- 
 knives. Truly, every one wants what is hard to get. Some 
 teachers wisely make use of this human trait for purposes 
 of government. I recollect, in the days when I was a very 
 small child indeed, at what was then called an infant-school, 
 that there was in one corner of the room a dilapidated 
 wooden armchair whose occupancy was dearly coveted by 
 all the pupils. But its temporary possession was always 
 granted to "the good child." When some forenoon's ex- 
 emplary conduct had won for me the favor of this throne 
 during the hour succeeding recess, with what a swelling 
 heart did I look around upon the other children ! It was 
 not gratification at my own virtue, it was that I was doing 
 something different from all the rest. The chair was not 
 comfortable; it was hard, it was slippery, one leg was too 
 short. But its occupant was distinguished !
 
 Pleasures of Ownership 
 
 In order to arouse in our children an interest 
 in their daily work about the house and garden 
 it is well to give them some proprietorship in 
 things. Unhappily, arrangements are often such 
 that several children have to occupy sleeping- 
 rooms together. The better way, and one which 
 ought to be pursued in every case where it is pos- 
 sible, is for each child to have a room, however 
 small, to himself. And it should be his sanctuary 
 — the place where his possessions could be per- 
 fectly secure, and privacy possible to him When- 
 ever he desires it. 
 
 If this is not feasible, perhaps there is some old 
 lumber-room that may be made over to the chil- 
 dren's use, where each may have a particular niche. 
 Or — special delight ! — there may be a garret, cob- 
 webby and littered with a heterogeneous collection 
 of trash, that he may convert into a theatre for his 
 exploits. 
 
 It is curious what a hold space has upon the 
 youthful imagination. There is a craving for 
 fields and pastures, woods and a stream, all its 
 own. 
 
 IQI
 
 192 Pleasures of Ownership 
 
 A child is instinctively a landholder. When he 
 is able to comprehend such distinctions it is more 
 or less of a shock to him to be made aware that his 
 parents are tenants and do not own their home. 
 He suffers a loss of self-respect, and his father loses 
 dignity in his eyes. But the best thing that can 
 'be done for him is to give him a slip of ground, 
 making over the right of it to him so far as we can 
 do so. In his present pleasure he loses sight of 
 future contingencies, and his little heart swells with 
 the pride of possession. 
 
 This is especially applicable to. boys in the coun- 
 try. Farmers' sons might not be so anxious to 
 leave home and seek city life if they were allowed 
 to feel a personal interest in their fathers' farms, 
 and had liberty to experiment and carry out some 
 of their own plans. Girls enjoy gardening, but it 
 is natural that their desire for land-owning should 
 be less strong than their sense of appropriation 
 of a portion of the house. While they are very 
 small, say six or eight years old, they will be de- 
 lighted to take upon themselves a small part of 
 the household responsibility; and a judicious 
 mother will take advantage of this pliable period 
 to cultivate in her daughters a liking for domestic 
 pursuits. 
 
 No cooking school or sewing school can equal 
 an old-fashioned home kitchen, where the mother
 
 Pleasures of Ownership 193 
 
 herself sets the example of industry, and gives in- 
 structions in methodical work. But the children's 
 interest will be greatly enhanced by being made 
 owners of their utensils and implements. Give to 
 one the charge of the Sunday tea when Bridget is 
 out, and present her with a little teapot and tea- 
 kettle with the understanding that she is to take 
 care of them. Let another small maid have a para- 
 phernalia for cake-making, and another one a dust- 
 brush and carpet-sweeper. 
 
 We cannot expect children to like work for its 
 own sake any better than we do ourselves; but 
 they can at least be prevented, by judicious man- 
 agement, from conceiving a distaste for the work 
 that they will certainly find necessary sometime 
 in their lives, and they will have a chance to acquire 
 ideas of methodical management, which ideas are 
 lamentably lacking in many of our young-lady 
 graduates from cooking classes and parlor lectures 
 upon kitchen work. 
 
 Industry is a cardinal virtue in a man or woman, 
 and the early signs of it in a child ought to be en- 
 couraged. The perpetual repression it is deemed 
 needful to make him undergo, and that really is es- 
 sential to the comfort of grown people under our 
 ordinary arrangements, has the effect of converting 
 a bright and active child into a stupid and indolent 
 one. What a mortal pity it is that in this vast world
 
 194 Pleasures of Ownership 
 
 there is so little room for the majority of children 
 to expand into perfect childhood ! They are born 
 into an environment fatal to their health and hap- 
 piness, where such incessant activity as is natural 
 to young animals is a nuisance, and hearty frolick- 
 ing a social crime. But let us do the best we can 
 for them, and give them some opportunities to use 
 their legs, arms, and lungs. 
 
 The children of our day are not repressed in the 
 same way that the children of a former age were, 
 but they are in danger of being drilled to death. 
 Some sage observers complain that spontaneity 
 and frankness are dying out, but that is only a 
 repetition of criticisms which Socrates made. 
 These charming qualities are always on the point 
 of vanishing before the approach of systematized 
 culture, but they are still with us, because they are 
 born afresh with every child. They belong to a 
 period of life. All that we have to do is to give 
 them a little room.
 
 The singular notion most mothers have that the teachers 
 have entire charge of the systematic education of their chil- 
 dren is shown by their letting the long summer vacations 
 pass without an effort to advance in knowledge the young 
 persons whom they seem to regard as wards of the school. 
 " The poor things are tired of books, let them rest," is the 
 excuse for this neglect. Tired of books, yes; but are they 
 tired of learning ? Can they stop learning even if they 
 wish ? Will these two or three months pass in positive 
 stagnation, leaving no trace on their minds ? On the con- 
 trary, the mind, if less energetic, is more impressionable 
 in warm weather, and, while our children are supposed to 
 be resting or running wild, they are storing up many ideas 
 and growing every day mentally as well as physically. A 
 little orderly instruction, pleasantly given, would be a boon 
 to them. Let the indolent mother rouse herself and think 
 of some study that can be taken up as a pastime. It is not 
 necessary to bring in books, unless the mother herself knows 
 too little to teach without them. But it certainly is a re- 
 flection upon an intelligent parent to send a child back to 
 school after three months of her own society, knowing no 
 more than he did when he came home.
 
 The Moral Sense 
 
 There can be no invariable age set for a child 
 to begin school. Many considerations individual 
 to each child must be taken into account. But in 
 general, and provided the home training is what 
 it should be, the later he begins the better. One 
 of the most highly cultured men I know has spent 
 but seven years of his life at school, and five of 
 those were at a foreign university. He escaped 
 the long, tedious drill that most of us are com- 
 pelled to undergo, through happily having a 
 mother capable of conducting his early education. 
 Not all mothers are able or have the time to devote 
 themselves to this noble work, but that case is in- 
 deed deplorable when the child is given over to 
 the care of others merely because the mother finds 
 his training a burden. 
 
 In no case should a tot under seven be sent to 
 a regular school. If there is no kindergarten con- 
 venient, let the baby run at large, supervised by his 
 parents, in his experimentations. In these days, 
 
 when science primers abound and books upon 
 
 196
 
 The Moral Sense 197 
 
 natural history are made so entertaining, there is 
 scarcely any excuse for a mother's not acquainting 
 herself with the lore that above all others attracts 
 and enchains children. Natural history is the basis 
 of rational education. But it should be rationally 
 taught. Do not puzzle a small child with fine- 
 spun distinctions nor burden his memory with 
 mere names. What he wants is to find out what 
 things are, what they are made of, and their uses. 
 If he is encouraged to investigate and allowed to 
 collect plants/minerals, and what he calls "pretty 
 things," he will be placed at the beginning of his 
 life in right relations with nature; will learn to 
 regard study as a delightful process, instead of a 
 task; and will early begin to exercise his faculties 
 for himself, instead of clinging weakly and blindly 
 upon the knowledge of others. 
 
 In one of Miss Alcott's sensible books — " The 
 Rose in Bloom," I think — there is a delightful lit- 
 tle episode in the baby foundling's life, when her 
 guardian, a college youth of more than ordinary 
 judgment, brings the child pocketfuls of pine cones, 
 fairy mosses, and shells and bits of glittering quartz 
 as playthings, that she may begin her acquaintance 
 with life from the natural and not the artificial 
 standpoint. Of course the lisping tot will ask 
 questions that will be harder to answer than the 
 talk suggested by the ordinary playthings that imi-
 
 198 The Moral Sense 
 
 tate the every-day life. And the mother should be 
 prepared to meet her little one on its own ground. 
 Any intelligent woman can with a little diligence 
 learn enough of natural history to constitute her- 
 self the companion and teacher of her young chil- 
 dren. And if the task is not congenial — and 
 strangely enough, it is not always congenial — she 
 will have her reward in an increase of influence 
 and authority. Children submit readily to those 
 who are wise in the matters they care most about, 
 and they willingly and lovingly defer to those who 
 give them sympathy and comradeship in their 
 work and play. 
 
 The two cardinal points in the education of Per- 
 sian lads in the time of Cyrus were " to draw the 
 bow and to speak the truth." The essentials of 
 physical education have changed with the passage 
 of centuries, but we have not improved, nor is it 
 possible to improve, upon the moral code so long 
 ago adopted and regarded as fundamental. Truth- 
 fulness is the root from which grow all beauties and 
 graces of character. It is impossible to be truthful 
 and be otherwise bad, for badness is accompanied 
 by self-delusion, and the person who is accustomed 
 to face the truth is made aware every moment of 
 his exact standing, and can no more shun self- 
 knowledge than he can deceive others. Experi- 
 enced educators say that they never despair of a
 
 The Moral Sense 199 
 
 naughty child unless he is a confirmed liar. The 
 child who meets your eye boldly and directly, who 
 " owns up " unflinchingly, is amenable to reason 
 and can be won by candor and justice. But I am 
 not sure that truthfulness is a virtue natural to all 
 temperaments. Certainly it is necessary to culti- 
 vate it in the germ, and the first wavering impulses 
 a child shows towards honest and candid conduct 
 should be tenderly encouraged, and the roughness 
 and brusqueness which are apt to appear at the 
 same time with definitive honesty, pruned and 
 smoothed without injuring the perfect bloom be- 
 neath the burrs. 
 
 We should aid children to understand and appre- 
 ciate truth. One way in which this can be done 
 is by insisting upon accurate statements. The 
 habit of repeating a message in the precise words 
 in which it was given, of describing locations and 
 circumstances with absolute fidelity, is of great 
 value. In childhood each single impression is 
 vivid enough, but relations are confused. We 
 should help a child to bring order into all this con- 
 fusion of sights and sounds; show him how events 
 are connected one with another, and that the world 
 does not move by him, as he supposes, like a wild 
 merry-go-round, but proceeds according to fixed 
 laws. If he realizes that things have a regular 
 manner of moving, he will see that there is a regu-
 
 2oo The Moral Sense 
 
 lar way of describing them, and that careless, loose, 
 exaggerated language is not capable of conveying 
 the right impression. 
 
 But we are ourselves responsible for much of 
 the exaggeration that children indulge in. They 
 catch up our superlatives, and build their notions 
 upon our ecstasies and prejudices. If grown peo- 
 ple would cut out two-thirds o r the adjectives from 
 their ordinary conversation, children would think 
 more clearly and talk more simply. And it would 
 also be well if the little ones were not obliged to 
 hear arguments and discussions. When the per- 
 sons a child most respects contradict one another, 
 it is apparent to him that somebody is wrong — in 
 other words, " tells a story "; and he goes out feel- 
 ing that it is not important how he states a thing, 
 since there are several ways of stating all matters. 
 
 Ah, let us take great pains not to bewilder a lit- 
 tle child's moral sense ! We may excuse the trans- 
 parent, innocent romancing which makes many 
 mothers uneasy. This telling of fairy-tales is a 
 natural phase of life, and all imaginative children 
 pass through it. The important point is to teach 
 the child never to say a thing with the deliberate 
 intention of deceiving; and if this is to be accom- 
 plished we must never deceive him in the smallest 
 particular, never break a promise made to him, nor 
 allow him to break one to us. But we must be
 
 The Moral Sense 201 
 
 merciful about exacting - promises, for to an in- 
 experienced little one everything is possible, and 
 he is eager to engage himself for what he may not 
 be able to perform.
 
 Has any mother ever thought of a " picture diary " for 
 her child ? Most children are fond of recalling events, and 
 this little device affords possibilities both of entertainment 
 and profit. Let the mother take a blank composition book 
 and have a bottle of mucilage and a pen ready. Every eve- 
 ning have the child bring something, a leaf, a fern, a daisy, 
 or a bit of ribbon that it has worn during the day — anything 
 that can serve to recall the day's experience — and paste it 
 at the head of a page, writing the date and a few words of 
 explanation below it. What a treasure it will be in long 
 winter evenings, and how many stories can be told over 
 again of the little trips and excursions, the " tea parties on 
 the big rock," and all the other enjoyments of the past 
 months ! With a little ingenuity a mother can enlarge upon 
 this suggestion and furnish the child with an inexhaustible 
 journal of his experience, which will cultivate his memory 
 and help him entertain his young friends.
 
 An Office of Motherhood 
 
 A good deal of " straining at gnats " is going 
 on at present among educators, which is the 
 reason, perhaps, why some old-fashioned duties are 
 overlooked. 
 
 The first natural duty of a mother is to protect 
 her young; to create around it a shelter in the 
 midst of which the tender thing can grow, secure 
 from shocks, and seeing and hearing only what is 
 good for it to see and hear. Nature's evident in- 
 tention is to give a newly born creature into the 
 hands of the mother as one able and willing to 
 make for it a soft, warm nest, where no dis- 
 turbing agent can enter to work harm. The 
 mother who goes away, except under dire neces- 
 sity, and leaves her little one unprotected, is a de- 
 serter, whether she belongs to the bear or seal fam- 
 ily or to that privileged portion of the human 
 family admitting membership in a fashionable club. 
 
 Our progress from simple living to our present 
 state has increased the obligations of motherhood. 
 The more dangers threatening, the greater neces- 
 sity for watchfulness; the more highly strung and 
 
 sensitive the child, the more need for an exercise of 
 
 203
 
 204 An Office of Motherhood 
 
 maternal care to ward off everything liable to dis- 
 turb nerves so finely attuned that a slight jar may 
 cause a lasting shock. 
 
 It is often thought that the first year of life is 
 such a vegetative period that any moderately de- 
 cent person may supervise the uninteresting infant 
 past the staring, drooling stage, and the intelligent 
 mother, fitted by education for higher uses, take 
 charge of it when the fluttering efforts at imitation 
 of grown-up associates give warning that more 
 artistic models than the nurses of its infancy should 
 be supplied. 
 
 But this is a mistake. The human infant is, to 
 be sure, usually born deaf and blind, and is divided 
 at first by the wall of its inert senses from the world 
 it enters; although there are instances where care- 
 ful prenatal training has had the effect of advanc- 
 ing fcetal development greatly. In one case a baby 
 girl showed that she could hear when but eleven 
 hours old, manifested sensitiveness to light at three 
 hours, and when five days old had gained a perfect 
 understanding of the words, " Stop crying and I'll 
 take you up," always becoming quiet after they 
 were uttered by a person standing beside her crib. 
 
 This child was almost continually under the eyes 
 of her parents; yet one day, when she was taken 
 out at the age of seven months by an apparently 
 discreet and careful servant, she returned in a state
 
 An Office of Motherhood 205 
 
 of high excitement, for which the attendant could 
 or would give no explanation. For three days she 
 was nervous to the border of hysteria. Then a 
 neighbor called upon the mother and related that 
 the baby had been thrown from her carriage, for- 
 tunately onto a snow pile, but the servant had kept 
 her out until all signs of her fright should have died 
 away, concealing the slight wound on the 'baby's 
 forehead by pulling her hair over it. Only the 
 tenderest care restored the child to her normal state 
 of calm, and it took ten days for this. Under or- 
 dinary circumstances the shock would probably 
 have brought on brain fever in a baby of such deli- 
 cate organization. 
 
 It may seem impossible that an entire life can be 
 so easily marred, that one evil shadow can cast a 
 black and lasting curse; but there are natures so 
 sensitive that no ordinary care will suffice for their 
 protection during the most impressionable period. 
 This is why the study of psychology is helpful to 
 mothers. By learning the signs of fear in a young 
 child, and knowing how to distinguish true fear 
 from wilfulness, they will be able to exert a sooth- 
 ing and protecting influence at the right moment, 
 and avert danger whose consequences are serious 
 almost beyond belief in the case of our highly or- 
 ganized, excitable modern children. 
 
 Instead of recognizing the duty of protection,
 
 206 An Office of Motherhood 
 
 which implies shielding the infant from every 
 harmful influence, a mother not seldom uses terror 
 as a means of subduing a refractory spirit. But 
 it is quite possible to train a child to obedience 
 without playing upon his timidity, and when we 
 reflect that most of the misconduct that takes place 
 in the world is either directly or indirectly the re- 
 sult of moral cowardice, it will seem worth while to 
 guard, as if it were a precious treasure, a child's 
 serenity of mind. A sturdy, straightforward, ro- 
 bust mental outlook — how delightful it is ! I 
 recollect an exhibition of it in a little girl who once 
 came to our house on a visit. She was a healthy, 
 rosy-cheeked child, with clear, light blue eyes, whose 
 confident gaze seemed able to penetrate to the root 
 of any matter that people might try to make a 
 mystery of. Somebody, with an occult liking for 
 sensations, brought forth for her entertainment a 
 book full of weird pictures, anticipating a shriek 
 when a certain hideous portrait of a skeleton was 
 reached. But little Minnie looked at the thing 
 with that frank curiosity which shows the entire 
 absence of misgivings, and remarked, with a slight 
 accent of disdain: 
 
 ' I know what that is; that's old skin-bones ! v 
 
 A few years later this young girl, then grown to 
 
 strong, fearless maidenhood, captured a negro 
 
 burglar hiding under her bed, and held him, with
 
 An Office of Motherhood 207 
 
 the aid of a younger but equally courageous sister, 
 until their screams had brought assistance and the 
 man was given in charge of the police. 
 
 Possibly this is the conduct of natures inherently 
 devoid of fear, and not to be expected where the 
 physical and mental calibre is of a more delicate 
 sort. Yet I have known instances of daring in 
 little creatures of the most sensitive temperament, 
 imaginative and easily startled from their self-pos- 
 session, but with nerves of steel when their heroism 
 was actually put to the test. A truly brave heart 
 will overcome its natural tremors in times of real 
 danger, and put down resolutely all recollections 
 that render the present more formidable. But 
 what an effort this requires only those who have 
 exerted all their will-power to overcome the de- 
 moralizing effect of some nervous shock can real- 
 ize. Life makes demands upon us for continual 
 acts of fortitude, and what the fearless nature does 
 easily and unconsciously, the child or grown per- 
 son whose past contains a haunting experience, 
 must do with pain and difficulty. 
 
 Happily, the telling of ghost-stories is no longer 
 a regular nursery entertainment. In the days of 
 Addison this practice was so common that he was 
 led to express his views about it in the Spectator. 
 " Were I a father," he said, " I should take par- 
 ticular care to preserve my children from those lit-
 
 208 An Office of Motherhood 
 
 tie horrors of the imagination which they are apt to 
 contract when they are young, and are not able to 
 shake off when they are in years. ... I look upon 
 a sound imagination as the greatest blessing of life, 
 next to a clear judgment and a good conscience." 
 
 But it is the mother, rather than the father, who 
 is called upon to secure this blessing to her chil- 
 dren. She ought to begin away back in the begin- 
 ning — with the very first surroundings of the new- 
 born infant. Let it find its early life peaceful, 
 quiet, and unhurried. And when infancy merges 
 into that older period when young faculties are 
 springing forward in rapid development, and each 
 day the little one takes on more of the hue of its 
 larger fellow creatures, let her be doubly careful 
 that no untimely scare stunts its intelligence. 
 
 It is said that to be afraid of shadows is an in- 
 evitable passing experience of childhood. Yet I 
 know one small toddler who never has shown any 
 such disposition, but whose great delight is to play 
 with her own shadow and other shadows, when the 
 lights are brought in each night. She is a pecu- 
 liarly sensitive, sympathetic little thing, and could 
 easily be made timid by unwise treatment. But 
 under the sheltering care of fond and judicious 
 parents, she is remarkable for " not knowing what 
 it is to be afraid "; and although she is given to 
 unpleasant dreams, as many young children are,
 
 An Office of Motherhood 209 
 
 and often awakens with a start, a low word or 
 touch soothes her into serenity, and she passes her 
 days singing and dancing from the pure joy of life. 
 Happy above others is the little child who thinks 
 of his mother as a veritable refuge from trouble, a 
 bulwark against danger, and a sympathizing pres- 
 ence at all times. It is asking a great deal of a 
 woman to exact such faithful care. Mothers are 
 neither omniscient nor tireless, and must often call 
 in assistance to relieve their watch. But let such 
 substitutes be tried and trusted friends. The at- 
 mosphere of peace we labor to create must never 
 be disturbed by a suspicion of storm if our children 
 are to grow in it to that excellent attitude of cour- 
 age which is the basis of truth, of generosity, and 
 of self-control.
 
 There is a certain law in intellectual training which i& 
 recollected seldom. It is this: children ought to be in- 
 formed about matters when they want to know, and not 
 when we think it proper to teach them. Ninety-nine times 
 out of a hundred they are snubbed for asking questions, 
 and the hundredth time they are rebuked for not taking more 
 interest in what we wish them to learn. He is a wise teacher 
 who understands that the proper moment for imparting 
 knowledge is when a child is moved to ask for it. Says 
 Tennyson: "In children a great curiousness is well, who 
 have themselves to learn, and all the world."
 
 Curiosity 
 
 If all the wonders of this world should break 
 suddenly and without preparation upon a full- 
 grown man, his mind would faint under it. The 
 commonest things, apparently without cause, 
 would seem miraculous. Knowing no laws of 
 nature he would attempt outrageous feats, and ex- 
 haust all his energies to satisfy his curiosity. Hap- 
 pily we grow into knowledge gradually, so that 
 this cannot happen. 
 
 Yet something a little like it happens every day 
 in a child's life. He opens his eyes at dawn and 
 watches the streak of sunlight steal through the 
 window and strike athwart the ceiling, and ques- 
 tions crowd themselves upon his mind. What 
 keeps the line so narrow? why doesn't it break and 
 scatter all over the room ? Why is it on that side 
 of the house in the morning and on the other side 
 in the evening ? He assails the first person he 
 meets with these queries and with twenty others 
 succeeding. His little brain is alert and eager. 
 There are so many queer things. He wants very 
 much to know why his goblet of water " sweats," 
 and why people have to wear clothes; what use 
 
 211
 
 2 1 2 Curiosity 
 
 flies are (a puzzler !), and why babies can't walk 
 just as well as grown people. 
 
 Thoughts rush through his mind in a disorderly 
 procession; everything starts him off on a new 
 track. His confusion is pitiable. He is like a per- 
 son suddenly introduced into a show where a dozen 
 bands are playing different tunes. He wants to 
 hear, see, and know everything. And half the time 
 somebody responds to his plaints with a remon- 
 strating, " Don't be silly." It is as if they said: 
 " Don't be natural, don't be a child." 
 
 We take pleasure in showing the beauties of our 
 home to strangers and in listening to their admir- 
 ing exclamations. And if it grows monotonous 
 we recollect the duties of hospitality. But a 
 child's situation is analogous to that of a guest. 
 We hold the stores of knowledge and are familiar 
 with the mysteries; he clamors to be let in and 
 shown about. He seems unreasonable, and the 
 other affairs of life are urgent. 
 
 How hard — how almost impossible it is for a 
 grown person to recall his own youthful feelings 
 at the moment he is dealing with a child ! And 
 how different would be many incidents of their 
 lives if our memories could bring up stronger im- 
 pressions of the sufferings we have outlived. 
 
 Does not Nature know what she is doing when 
 she makes imagination riotous in children ? The
 
 Curiosity 2 1 3 
 
 little things scrambling up on our knees with their 
 eyes and ears wide open and their restless tongues 
 chattering have been projected into a strange 
 world — a world of facts, and they want to under- 
 stand their reason for being. 
 
 Children see everything and comprehend com- 
 paratively nothing, so their query nearly always is 
 —not, " What is it ? " but " Why is it ? " Their 
 instinct falters about in the darkness for a govern- 
 ing principle, a law, and nothing else can satisfy. 
 And herein is a wide difference in the perceptions 
 of children. Some are born utilitarians, while 
 others are born lovers of beauty and pleasure. A 
 pair of bright eyes will turn indifferently away from 
 a beautiful object to ask succinctly, " What is it 
 for?" while another child will be charmed with 
 the sight of exquisite forms and colors, betraying 
 a purely sensuous gratification. Thus early in life 
 is drawn the sharp line between the scientific and 
 artistic qualities. 
 
 A mother who sees each day some odd manifes- 
 tation, ponders silently over these things and 
 learns to perceive the extreme diversity of her chil- 
 dren's natures, although often it remains incom- 
 prehensible. It is the problem of her life to divide 
 her attention justly between conflicting claimants: 
 to satisfy the sober, anxious demands of the eldest- 
 born whose brow is puckered with thought, and to
 
 214 Curiosity 
 
 quiet without grieving the youngest chatterbox 
 who would like to hang upon her skirts all day 
 reiterating the same notes of interrogation. 
 
 She asks herself sometimes if a mother really is 
 expected to be an encyclopedia, and is inclined to 
 say petulantly, " Go to your father," or " Go to 
 your teacher." But this is a delicate point in man- 
 agement. To the child his mother is all-wise, and 
 she ought to be cautious of shaking that sweet con- 
 fidence. It is not to be expected that children will 
 be reasonable in the demands upon their friends' 
 time and strength. What do they know about 
 such matters until they are taught ? The dis- 
 criminating mother will recognize when a crisis is 
 at hand, when a mental revolution is taking place 
 in her child, and his whole nature is wrought up 
 to a pitch of earnestness, and when he is merely 
 trifling. It is necessary — of all things — that chil- 
 dren should never be confused or confounded. 
 They can appreciate a frank confession of igno- 
 rance when, as often happens, their questions are 
 too deep for their hearers. But a parent ought 
 not to say " I don't know ! " merely because he is 
 lazy and indisposed to think. 
 
 Miss Muloch has a pretty little anecdote in one 
 of her stories which sounds natural. Little " King 
 Arthur's " mother was obliged to plead ignorance 
 as to the working of locomotives, and to her excuse
 
 Curiosity 2 1 5 
 
 he responded gravely: ' But, mamma, you ought 
 to know ! ' And this little reproof sent his loving 
 mother to books to repair her omission. Happy 
 the child whose mother is so faithful. The mo- 
 ments we spend in acquiring knowledge to impart 
 to our children are well employed, for a child 
 should be taught chiefly by conversation and sel- 
 dom directly from books. 
 
 The plea most mothers will make to this — that 
 they have not time — should be translated into one 
 that, in many instances, would be more candid: 
 they have not inclination. The author recalls a 
 little experience which took place years ago when 
 she was pursuing a course of elocution in college. 
 A young man who belonged to the class excused 
 himself from rehearsal on the plea of " no time," 
 when she had the impulse to turn to him and say: 
 : You mean you don't want to. People always 
 find time for whatever they really zvant to do." A 
 few days afterward the gentleman, who was a busy 
 law student, came to her and said frankly, " Do 
 you know what you said haunted me ? I've been 
 thinking about it, and I believe it is true. Half 
 the time our excuses of ' lack of time ' are petty 
 evasions. We can do what we take a hearty in- 
 terest in." 
 
 Who doubts that the utmost pains is none too 
 much to bestow upon the development of a young
 
 216 Curiosity 
 
 mind ? A mother should feel that her vocation is 
 supreme. Civilized society is hard upon women in 
 some ways. Women are hard upon themselves. 
 They want to be perfect in household duties and in 
 social duties, and to be mothers also. But to be 
 a worthy mother, completely faithful to her duties, 
 is a life-work for any woman. Let her do what 
 she can besides; that comes first. Success in every 
 other way cannot compensate for the loss of influ- 
 ence with our children. Mothers sometimes feel 
 this bitterly when it is too late. She who leads a 
 little child toward light and knowledge gains an 
 unbounded influence over him. The history of all 
 great men usually begins with a loving, earnest 
 mother. The boy's eager questions are often keys 
 he presents to unlock the mysteries of his nature.
 
 Persons of large, portly presence make a remarkable im- 
 pression sometimes upon the youthful mind. The author 
 recalls two incidents in point. One, of a tiny maid of half a 
 dozen years, who, sitting demurely beside her father in a 
 public conveyance, watched with round-eyed amazement an 
 immensely fat man take his place opposite, then whispered 
 to her father in that penetrating "stage whisper" always 
 audible to company, " Oh, papa, is that the man that ate the 
 church and ate the steeple and ate the tower and all the 
 people ? " 
 
 The other was something similar, but this was a little 
 boy of three who, aboard an electric car for the first time, 
 was impatient to be off. Being told that they could not start 
 until a load was made up he sat quietly for a moment or 
 two, until a fleshy woman, elegantly dressed in flowing 
 draperies which had the effect of greatly increasing her ap- 
 parent bulk, sailed in and settled herself upon the middle of 
 the opposite seat. The tot gazed at her solemnly for a sec- 
 ond, then, raising his voice, called to the conductor, " The 
 car's full now ; you can go on ! "
 
 Nursery Note-books 
 
 Notwithstanding the great amount of talk 
 that has been going on of late about " the child " 
 — as if he were a rare specimen of some newly dis- 
 covered species ! — very few mothers are in the 
 habit of performing the simple and reasonable duty 
 of keeping a nursery note-book. If one has had 
 a scientific training, and is inclined to be extremely 
 methodical and painstaking, a daily record may be 
 made of the advance the little one makes in the 
 development of perceptive faculties, in the acquisi- 
 tion of language, and the taking on of those habits 
 which bring him nearer to our own standard of 
 what an intelligent being gets to be through imi- 
 tation of the models put before him. Such a series 
 of observations, carried into the most minute and 
 trivial details, would be a more satisfactory per- 
 formance in the opinion of the 'pedagogical 
 school " than the natural and unstudied method of 
 journal-writing that comes easy to the average 
 mother. But it is questionable if it would be more 
 valuable, except in the way of supplying data to 
 the psychologists who are giving their energies to 
 
 solving the problem of the mind of the child. 
 
 218
 
 Nursery Note-books 219 
 
 They find it desirable to enlist the aid of mothers 
 in making observations, and one of them has flat- 
 teringly declared that the best method scientists 
 can make use of is less sure than the " sympathetic 
 insight " of a mother; but another utters the naive 
 complaint that it is difficult to induce a mother to 
 make scientific experiments, as it means depriving 
 the child temporarily of the advantages of educa- 
 tion; that is, converting him into a passive instru- 
 ment. 
 
 We may then let these vivisectionists of child- 
 nature carry on their brave experiments with their 
 own children and such stray ones as they can cap- 
 ture. Science has its own great fields; all fields 
 are in a way its own, but it is not conspicuously 
 present everywhere, nor indispensable to some of 
 the sweet and natural usages of life. 
 
 The experimenting of mothers is not of the 
 formal order; it is usually unconscious, always sub- 
 ordinate to the greater end of child-training, and 
 does not deliberately go out of its way in the in- 
 terest of the public welfare. I recollect a pretty 
 story told by Holm Lee, of a child born to a wise 
 man, who was inclined to look upon the young 
 creature as a curiosity, and invited his friends, all 
 wise men, to hold a council over him and deter- 
 mine what qualities he possessed and what his fu- 
 ture career was likely to be. They put the baby
 
 220 Nursery Note-books 
 
 in their great tobacco-box, and smoked over him 
 and talked about him for quite a while, till Lupine, 
 his mother, and his old nurse grew uneasy, and, 
 breaking in upon the council, seized the baby and 
 ran away with him. What mother wouldn't ? 
 
 There is a vast deal of nonsense about the inves- 
 tigations professed " child-culturists " are making, 
 and their note-books contain some stuff so puerile 
 and inane that it is surprising that the men and 
 women of really superior minds, who belong to the 
 pedagogical school, should go on devoting them- 
 selves to an occupation so little creditable to their 
 common sense. When all the trash is sifted out 
 there will doubtless remain much that will be valu- 
 able to students of human nature. 
 
 It is chiefly for her own instruction and guidance 
 that a mother needs to keep some kind of nursery 
 note-book. For the refreshment of her memory, 
 when patience is likely to fail, and for the reawa- 
 kening of dulled sympathy with childish moods, as 
 well as for the enlightenment of others to whom 
 she may choose to impart her experiences, the re- 
 sults of her labor will more than repay her for the 
 trouble taken. She need follow no rules, nor even 
 attempt to make regular entries, unless she has in- 
 clination for the task. Facts bearing upon physi- 
 cal variations are extremely valuable, and it is wise 
 to note the weight and growth of a child at regular
 
 Nursery Note-books 221 
 
 intervals, to ascertain whether he is developing 
 normally. Even more important are observations 
 upon his general health, temperament, disposition, 
 and the use he makes of his faculties. Although 
 the mother herself may not be aware of the stand- 
 ard he should attain, her statement of facts may 
 give the clue to a physician when puzzling symp- 
 toms show themselves. Often deafness and de- 
 fects of vision might be prevented if the early signs 
 of their coming on had been heeded. A single 
 incident might have sufficed to set a skilled prac- 
 titioner upon the right track, if the mother had 
 written down at the time an account of the pecu- 
 liarity that attracted her attention, which after- 
 wards is not recalled. 
 
 A note-book of this sort, begun as soon as pos- 
 sible after a child is born, will be a profitable em- 
 ployment for any mother's leisure moments. 
 Some conscientious young mothers have their 
 physician or nurse write down the most important 
 facts bearing upon their child's physical life, from 
 the hour of its birth, and take up the narrative 
 themselves as soon as they can. 
 
 It is pleasant to know just when our baby be- 
 came conscious of sound ; when sensitiveness to 
 light manifested itself, and to watch the gradual 
 awakening of the sleeping senses of a young human 
 being who enters life so inert and helpless. Women
 
 222 Nursery Note-books 
 
 who have but slight knowledge of the science of 
 life may yet learn in a short time enough to make 
 the growth of a little child as interesting as a 
 drama. The " divine comedy " begins anew with 
 the birth of every child, and it is the great privi- 
 lege of motherhood to be admitted into close com- 
 munion with the infant star performer, so that his 
 slightest movements may reveal to her loving 
 watchfulness something not suspected by indif- 
 ferent observers. 
 
 If the early days of an infant's life are full of in- 
 terest, how much more fascinating the pretty play 
 becomes as the baby develops individuality and 
 begins that lisping language which is his first 
 attack upon the barrier that divides him from the 
 grown-up world ! Before the dawn of any history 
 the mother-heart was the page where love wrote 
 with "his wings of light"; nor has he ceased to 
 flutter golden drops upon the same fair sheet. But 
 the fondest mother lets treasures of memory slip 
 away from her, and she should try to keep secure 
 records of matters she will some day think of great 
 account. 
 
 The narrative of a child's sayings and doings, 
 written down from the partial standpoint of affec- 
 tion, are a romance of history, instinct with the life 
 and spirit that make the character-drawing of the 
 poet and novelist so much more vivid and signifi-
 
 Nursery Note-books 223 
 
 cant than the dry outlines of the historian. A 
 single incident in a person's life may give the key- 
 note of his character, and the unconscious dis- 
 closures the young child makes of his heart and 
 mind are often the strongest likenesses that can be 
 taken of him at different periods. No mother 
 should neglect to write down the more striking 
 events that take place in the nursery. If every 
 mother took the trouble, there would grow up a 
 rich literature of childhood, and — let us say to 
 those who are lamenting the present puerility of 
 American literature — nobody would have to read 
 this lore of young human nature unless he was 
 interested in it. 
 
 Of mere text-books of child-study there are now 
 a great number, many drearily abstruse, a few in- 
 structive and concise. Those who wish to learn 
 the salient facts about a baby's normal develop- 
 ment cannot select a better guide than the little 
 book of Preyer's entitled " Infant Mind." It says 
 much in little space, and gives all needed informa- 
 tion without going into tiresome detail. Really 
 sympathetic studies of child-nature are much more 
 rare, but among them Sully's " Studies of Child- 
 hood ' : ' ranks high. It is a book to hide in the 
 family mending-basket and dip into now and then 
 as one finds time. We need to have our respect 
 for the distinct personality of little people quick-
 
 224 Nursery Note-books 
 
 ened now and then, for the habit of swallowing 
 up their small lives in our own is a pernicious 
 legacy from stern old times that we have not yet 
 laid aside. " Child-study " has become a fad, and 
 as objects of investigation little ones are treated 
 with a flattering deference that threatens to pass 
 into subserviency; but we fail still in the true re- 
 spect that recognizes the pure moral quality of 
 innocent, unspoiled human nature. 
 
 Keeping a nursery note-book is one of the best 
 ways of reminding ourselves that children are not 
 a different species, nor an inferior species, but only 
 ungrown men and women, with faults and virtues 
 like our own; subject to moods, full of eccentrici- 
 ties, and in need — as we ourselves — of a judge like 
 the one craved by the Irishman: one that will not 
 be overstrict, but will " lean a little."
 
 We acquire, while we are children, not only the use of 
 words but a choice of expressions, and these expressions 
 cling to us. Certain terms of speech are often the occasion of 
 annoyance to men and women who find it almost impossible 
 to break themselves of bad habits fixed in their early years. 
 Children should not be allowed to use slang. It is the great 
 foe to good breeding. He whose speech is slovenly will 
 be loose in more important particulars, while the person 
 who has accustomed himself to pause and arrange what he 
 has to say that it may be fittingly uttered, will be careful 
 in other points of breeding. Children take kindly to cor- 
 rection of their mode of speaking, for in that, more than 
 almost anything else, they know themselves fallible, and a 
 vulgar or ungrammatical expression should not go un- 
 checked. This is one of the matters that will be governed 
 almost entirely by home training. No technical knowledge 
 of grammar will save a child whose surroundings are rough 
 and low, from a rough and vulgar way of talking.
 
 Dialect in the Nursery 
 
 The question whether " dialect " stories are to 
 continue popular has a particular importance for 
 children. Juvenile periodical literature is as much 
 under the sway of a fashion that, when allowed 
 to run to excess, must be considered pernicious, as 
 are the larger magazines. Most of the otherwise 
 admirable periodicals for young people teem with 
 slang, provincialisms, and awkward phrases. 
 
 Low life is so graphically depicted, the news- 
 boy, the bootblack, and the canal-boat girl are 
 drawn so much to the life, with all their imperfec- 
 tions of speech in their mouths, that it is to be 
 doubted whether the child can rise from the perusal 
 of these stories without being more or less satu- 
 rated with the dialect. The effect is the same, in 
 its influence upon his own language, as if he had 
 spent the hour in the company of street-gamins, 
 receiving through the medium of his ears, instead 
 of his eyes, an acquaintance with slang. 
 
 Mature minds may descend into these slums 
 without smirching the purity of their speech, al- 
 though this is doubtful. The Writer magazine re- 
 cently related an amusing incident of a well-bred 
 
 226
 
 Dialect in the Nursery 227 
 
 woman who shocked her family at the breakfast 
 table by lapsing into some remarkable idioms, and 
 who gave as her excuse that she had spent the pre- 
 vious evening reading dialect stories, and had 
 fallen under their influence. If the habits and 
 training of years can be so revolutionized, how 
 much more readily will children, whose tastes are 
 in the transition-stage, be bewitched by the forceful 
 phrases whose peculiarly engaging quality is that 
 they are almost wholly emotional, and express the 
 simplest ideas and feelings with ease ! 
 
 But few parents care to have their little sons and 
 daughters import their every-day conversation 
 from the pages of dialect literature. There is, in- 
 deed, some surprise shown as to where certain ob- 
 noxious expressions can have been learned, and 
 ungrammatical phrases are sharply reproved, while 
 slang is deplored as an effect of bad associations. 
 
 Truly so. But the bad associations may not 
 have been living comrades. Any one who will 
 critically examine current juvenile literature will 
 find that within the past ten years there has been 
 a falling off in literary style among popular writers 
 for the young. That great breeze which a woman 
 of genius stirred up in the Tennessee mountains 
 has inspired many lesser authors, desirous of being 
 noted for breeziness and vigor, in efforts of emu- 
 lation which too often are lamentable failures.
 
 228 Dialect in the Nursery 
 
 And when the rural district was well worked, the 
 slums began to be explored; and now we have 
 hosts of grimy, unlettered little heroes and hero- 
 ines stalking at large through the pages of litera- 
 ture, attracting the admiring attention of our chil- 
 dren, whom we carefully send to school to learn 
 to speak and write English. 
 
 There is a little inconsistency here. How can 
 we expect any child to be totally uninfluenced by 
 what he reads ? And is it not one of the great 
 functions of literature to cultivate a reader's taste 
 and elevate his habits of speaking and thinking ? 
 There should, be amongst wise parents a strong 
 sentiment against dialect literature for children. 
 An occasional idiom may be suffered, but the ten- 
 dency which is showing itself nowadays to repro- 
 duce in all speeches the peculiarities of the speakers 
 cannot but counteract in great measure the bene- 
 fits gained from occasional good reading. For 
 young people like periodicals as well as their 
 parents like them. They look forward to their il- 
 lustrated weekly or monthly with as much eager- 
 ness as older persons show for the possession of 
 their pet magazines and papers; and, since read- 
 ing makes so large a part of their enjoyment, it is 
 an essential matter to furnish them with reading 
 
 O 
 
 which will exert a good influence in every way. 
 It is admitted, by those whose particular busi-
 
 Dialect in the Nursery 229 
 
 ness it is to cater to youthful tastes, that nothing 
 is more difficult than to write good stories for chil- 
 dren. But while the dear old classics of Haw- 
 thorne and Kingsley and Lamb remain to us we 
 need not give them trash. And dialect has be- 
 come only a " fad." It is surely not necessary, in 
 order to be entertaining, to be crude, startling, or 
 vulgar. If children like their little dishes hot and 
 well spiced, it is the fault of writers who aim to 
 supply what is racy rather than what is pure and 
 delicate, and who endeavor to make up for a lack 
 of imagination by grotesque combinations. 
 
 I know from experience that there is in the heart 
 of every child a craving for " the true, the good, 
 and the beautiful," overlaid, as it may be, by ac- 
 quired roughness, and that even the little child who 
 comes out from the meanest and most sordid sur- 
 roundings will respond quickly to the touch of 
 fancy's wand, and yield entranced attention to leg- 
 ends and romances skilfully adapted to his under- 
 standing. 
 
 We need not, then, quite yet, fall back upon the 
 vulgar and sensational as nursery literature.
 
 In an old, old story which is obsolete in this generation 
 there was an anecdote of a little baby princess who was lost 
 in a park and fell in with a tiny peasant maid with whom 
 she made friends in sweet, childish fashion, and was found 
 by her distracted governess sitting with her arms around 
 her new acquaintance, pouring confidential disclosures into 
 the plebeian ears. There is in the child heart a natural im- 
 pulse toward universal friendliness, which is, however, too 
 soon destroyed under the false distinctions we teach children 
 to draw.
 
 The Spirit of Christmas 
 
 English literature possesses but one great 
 Christmas story, Charles Dickens' " A Christmas 
 Carol." It stands above all others as Christmas 
 day itself towers majestically over all the other days 
 in the year. Certain elderly gentlemen, who are 
 not reconciled to our twentieth-century material- 
 ism, tell me that they retire to their own rooms on 
 each twenty-fifth of December and read the inimi- 
 table " Carol " over again. From such enthusiasts 
 one would expect a remarkable exhibition of the 
 true Christmas spirit, an almost reckless abandon- 
 ment of self and pocketbook to the demands of 
 the occasion. Yet I have observed in them rather 
 less zeal in giving than criticism of the present 
 fashion of holiday-keeping, and the suggestion will 
 thrust itself forward that any shelter which self 
 throws up against good fellowship with the best 
 the present offers is a flimsy disguise of inward 
 niggardliness, not less pitiable nor less in need of 
 reform than Scrooge himself. 
 
 Because we cannot have the Yule log and tradi- 
 tional roast pig, shall we refuse the cheer of anthra- 
 cite coal and baked turkey ? Or if even the open 
 
 231
 
 232 The Spirit of Christmas 
 
 fire, the mistletoe, and the family gathering are 
 beyond us, must we disdain the home-making at- 
 tempts of the steam-radiator, and find no comfort 
 in the dainty elaborateness of a well-spread table 
 catering to the needs of refined modern taste ? 
 Suppose the misanthrope (for the recluse who lives 
 only in an imaginary Christmas is a misanthrope) 
 came out of his shell and gathered the young peo- 
 ple about him to charm their ears with tales of 
 the old ways of holiday-keeping " when he was a 
 boy." \Yould not this be better than grumbling 
 out protests against the new ways that have their 
 own reasons for being, and offer in turn their own 
 measure of enjoyment to willing spirits ? Genial 
 old age is always a welcome presence, and it never 
 suggests any contrasts that put us out of conceit 
 with the pleasures that lie within our reach. But 
 carping, even if it proceeds from the patriarch, is 
 an infliction severe enough to blight any holiday. 
 In the nature of things there must be holidays. 
 How poverty-stricken is that soul which does not 
 recognize this necessity and throw itself heartily 
 into the work of helping forward the good time 
 youth and all unspoiled minds accept with grati- 
 tude ! There is no predeterminate set of condi- 
 tions for holiday-making that need tie adventurous 
 hands, and if traditional customs belonging to 
 Thanksgiving and Christmas are vanished beyond
 
 The Spirit of Christmas 233 
 
 recall, we can harmonize the day with our present 
 abilities. 
 
 My sympathy is with those who wish to bring 
 back upon Christmas day the sweet old traditional 
 observances. I love them well, even those that 
 are known to me only by hearsay and were out- 
 grown in that shadowy period alluded to as " be- 
 fore the war." But no one thing is indispensable 
 to happiness with any of us, unless with children, 
 and not even with them if judicious substitute is 
 made. Whatever we have, or whatever we lack, 
 the quality that makes the occasion is the spirit we 
 bring to it. Good will never fails to create a good 
 time. It finds merit in rain, lifts fog, and lights 
 a cheery blaze within that passes for the sunshine 
 in its absence. And good will has not passed away 
 with chivalry, nor perished under the onrush of 
 science. It lives and breathes now, and is here at 
 this moment to light our Christmas fires and swing 
 incense before our altars. All we need do is to 
 recognize and adapt it, even as old Scrooge did 
 when he flung up his window to inhale the crisp, 
 sparkling air, and embrace all humanity in his 
 overflowing thankfulness that the time was still his 
 own to redeem his useless past. 
 
 I hope none of us has such a past to redeem. 
 Very few people have not at some time in their 
 lives labored to brighten the lives of the poor or
 
 234 The Spirit of Christmas 
 
 bring joy to children. No dearer privilege is ours 
 than this. Children are easily made happy if one 
 understands them. Not what we give them so 
 much as what we do for them insures their grati- 
 fication. They want our sympathy, our com- 
 panionship, our hearty co-operation in what inter- 
 ests and engrosses them. Perhaps this is one 
 feature of the Santa Claus myth that endears it to 
 these young monopolists. The idea of a benefi- 
 cent saint who is all their own, literally devoted to 
 their interest, is entrancing. 
 
 The tendency of our day is to pull down this 
 idol and let in a prosaic, every-day light upon the 
 rosy glamour of fairyland. But at what a cost is 
 this initiation into practical truths accomplished ! 
 Childhood is, par excellence, the age of faith and 
 love, and these two combined create a region of 
 beauty where miracles of heroism and generosity 
 are accepted as natural happenings. All too soon 
 must our little ones learn the caution and calcula- 
 tion that teach us to expect just so much as we 
 confer, and make of life a sad affair of barter and 
 exchange. Do we not hear ten-year-old Alice re- 
 cite her obligations to her schoolmates for so many 
 bonbons and illuminated cards, and lament with 
 candid avarice that she has been overreached in 
 her transfer of presents ? And our wise eldest- 
 born, listener to too many councils as to the family
 
 The Spirit of Christmas 235 
 
 exchequer, betrays a selfish determination to exact 
 his due to the utmost, that is much less manage- 
 able and altogether more ignoble than the most 
 extravagant demands of credulous youngsters 
 upon the exhaustless bank of Santa Claus. 
 
 But modern children are wise so early that they 
 scarcely carry out of their cradles the credulity that 
 once kept them serenely unobservant of the clumsy 
 aids we offered to their pretty fancies. Most of 
 the elaborate embroidery about the bare fact that 
 there once lived a benevolent Saint Nicholas who 
 gave good gifts to children has been wrought from 
 the imagination of the children themselves. Give 
 an ingenious child a single idea as a basis and he 
 imagines a whole epic. But, on the other hand, 
 destroy that foundation, and all he has dreamed, 
 constructed, and cherished falls to pieces, carrying 
 something with it that it is a pity to deprive him 
 of, indeed; that calm acceptance of the marvellous 
 which grows later on into lofty self-abnegation and 
 the courage that knows " no such word as ' fail.' " 
 Yes, from the ranks of imaginative children, credu- 
 lous to a fault of all the myths of fairy lore, is re- 
 cruited the army of workers in the higher realms 
 of the world. Faith is the germ from which genius 
 grows. We may well strive to preserve in them 
 at least the tendency to " believe all things, hope 
 all things," and if Santa Claus ceases, <by the time
 
 236 The Spirit of Christmas 
 
 they can pronounce his name, to be a veritable per- 
 sonage, and fairyland has become something more 
 shadowy than the golden castles reared in the 
 clouds every sunset, it is to be hoped that enough 
 of the power to create illusions still survives to 
 glorify plain matters of fact that have scarcely of 
 themselves a welcome aspect. 
 
 Little cynics are abhorrent to all lovers of child 
 nature; infant skeptics pitiable in their inca- 
 pacity to exult over pretty fables and innocent 
 illusions. Tell children the truth, if we must tell 
 them everything in its naked simplicity, but do 
 not let us force them out of childhood's natural 
 realm, full of verisimilitudes flashing in rainbow 
 hues into our logical but calculating atmosphere. 
 The delight of youth is innocent, transparent exag- 
 geration. Holiday-time presupposes leaving off 
 customary pursuits and the abandoning one's self 
 to impulses that need not be greatly distrusted if 
 they spring from good hearts. 
 
 Herein persons whose daily lives are not too rich 
 in pleasures have an advantage over satiated favor- 
 ites of fortune. They can enjoy because they can 
 appreciate the contrast between working days and 
 holidays. And if we would give zest to our chil- 
 dren's merry-making, let them embrace some en- 
 joyments that are rarely experienced. A little 
 excess is craved at times by all of Adam's frail
 
 The Spirit of Christmas 237 
 
 children. No prudent elder will encourage the 
 total abandonment of the checks that control appe- 
 tite, and yet the Christmas feast is an inevitable 
 accompaniment of the splendid day; and just as 
 matron and master prepare themselves to groan a 
 little internally, when the holiday is past, for their 
 self-indulgence, the smaller ones must have their 
 hour of forgetfulness and their subsequent resolves 
 of future moderation; for this is part of life's 
 training. And slowly would our training proceed 
 if we did not have occasion to bring ourselves up 
 smartly at times for our over-relaxations. 
 
 Gift-making is one of the most gracious features 
 of Christmas, and one that I pray may survive all 
 other outgrown customs. When love and sym- 
 pathy are close counsellors there is little fear that 
 we shall make the mistake of leaving out of our 
 little one's stocking the particular thing he has set 
 his heart upon getting. And if his choice is be- 
 yond us to gratify, let us come as near to it as we 
 can, and not convert this season into a sort of con- 
 venience for ourselves, thrusting upon his reluctant 
 acceptance such prosaic articles as shoes, hats, and 
 other essentials of the toilet. Far prettier is the 
 German custom of bestowing gaudy trifles that 
 have no use in themselves, but are part of the glit- 
 ter and fashion of the holiday. When it is pos- 
 sible, nothing is so good to have as the traditional
 
 238 The Spirit of Christmas 
 
 Christmas tree. In after-years memory hangs 
 about it fondly, and we bless in our hearts the kind 
 hands that took so much trouble to give us 
 pleasure. 
 
 Then the stocking hung up on Christmas eve 
 has a romance all its own. The breakfast-table 
 dressed with holly-berries and gifts piled under 
 snowy napkins is a graceful custom, and is far 
 nicer than the blunt handing out of our gifts. 
 Some trouble should be taken to create the wel- 
 come element of surprise. We all like it, but it is 
 one of the greatest delights in a child's experience. 
 He finds out before we would choose to have him 
 that what is looked forward to most eagerly seldom 
 turns out well. It is sad philosophy, yet true, that 
 it is dangerous to set one's heart on anything in 
 this world. But the love that hides its intention 
 until the hour of fulfilment, and then lets out its 
 secret in an outburst of generosity, is the best sub- 
 stitute that is ever offered for the special Provi- 
 dence — Santa Claus, and all other gracious myths. 
 
 An example of generosity is seldom lost upon 
 children if its true, not artificial. They are very 
 willing to live up to their little knowledge, if we 
 allow them the chance, and part of our duty to the 
 day is to encourage in our young people the same 
 kindliness we cultivate in ourselves. It is so much 
 easier to learn in youth to be genial, sympathetic,
 
 The Spirit of Christmas 239 
 
 and generous than it is after embittering experi- 
 ences have hardened our hearts. Fresh, unspoiled 
 natures readily take to themselves the lesson of the 
 Christmas Carol, and to children Bob Cratchit's 
 holiday is a perfect picture, lacking in no element 
 that is essential to a good time. Heaven pity the 
 sophisticated ones that find it too simple and primi- 
 tive for their taste! Yet if our means are ample, 
 let us not be frugal in our preparations at this sea- 
 son of lavish, free-handed giving. Dickens' Christ- 
 mas spirit of to-day was no niggard, and looking 
 upon him we must forget to reckon what we needs 
 must do. and instead, do all we can. 
 
 Ah ! that jolly Christmas ghost, with the holly 
 wreath upon his broad brow, the mirth in his kind 
 eyes, and the mountain of good cheer under his feet, 
 to which of us has he not often appeared in fancy, 
 fitly representing the bounty and generosity of the 
 ideal Christmas-tide ? And not one among us but 
 can learn anew from this inward revelation our 
 duty to the day. " Let the dead past bury its 
 dead; " we are concerned with what belongs to us 
 now. The spirit of Christmas present enjoins upon 
 us what every foregoing spirit would entreat, were 
 they all in line chanting the carol that is everlast- 
 ing, " Peace on earth, good will to men."
 
 Kittens and puppies that are members of large families, 
 and have brothers and sisters to frolic with, learn to play 
 without scratching and biting. And the same remark ap- 
 plies to children. To have a large family is not always a 
 matter of rejoicing with parents, but when a child has sev- 
 eral brothers and sisters he is from the first in the natural 
 position of being a member of a little community, and learns 
 to adjust his wishes and plans to the wishes and plans of 
 others, and to be accommodating and conciliating. It is as 
 hard for an only child to be unselfish as it is for the pro- 
 verbial rich man to go to heaven. Where a child is the only 
 one he ought to be as much as possible in the company of 
 other children that he may get the benefit of their frank 
 criticism upon his manners and habits. The judgment of 
 one's peers is essential to self-knowledge.
 
 The Washington Pickaninny 
 
 He lives on the street. Not on those beautiful 
 asphalt roads which are the great mark of the prog- 
 ress made by the past ten years in the city, but on 
 those by-streets, as yet untouched by the corpora- 
 tion, where mud abounds, ashes lie about in heaps, 
 and tumble-down shanties, rented to pay taxes on 
 improving ground, stand as an eyesore to lovers of 
 neatness and order. 
 
 Out from these crowded huts pours every morn- 
 ing a tribe of frisking youngsters, dirty, half clothed, 
 probably hungry, yet bright and saucy-looking, 
 with the " peartness ' : that is the distinguishing 
 feature of the Americanized negro child, early 
 thrown out to make shift for himself, and gain by 
 his wits that living the world owes him. Whether 
 he is born with it, or whether it is told to him as his 
 first lesson, certain it is that the toddler of two or 
 three seems to feel, as he struts about on his bowed 
 legs (nearly all pickaninnies are bow-legged), that 
 white folks are his natural patrons and supporters. 
 He looks with admiration upon the school children 
 and accosts them familiarly and confidently, taking 
 
 rebuff and encouragement with the serenity of a 
 
 24a
 
 242 The Washington Pickaninny 
 
 person who feels quite secure of his own position, 
 and sure to get finally what belongs to him. 
 
 All this shines out in his beady black eyes and 
 frankly spread mouth as he sits on the curb, chal- 
 lenging the white boys to play marbles, with the 
 " shooters " fished out of the ash-barrel, or 
 " grabbed " from some unwary little property 
 holder. The darky has the far riiente of the 
 Italian " gamin," without the latter's melancholy. 
 If he is ever serious it is because he is sullen, brood- 
 ing over some injury to his dignity. Generally he 
 is cheerful to the point of geniality. Although not 
 much given to laughing, he is prone to mirthful- 
 ness, and looks at things from the humorous point 
 of view. He is the most companionable of crea- 
 tures to pass an idle hour with, and it is no wonder 
 that white children, when allowed to exercise their 
 taste, gravitate quite naturally to his society. 
 
 The little darkies, whose parents have belonged 
 to the old dispensation and still retain their attach- 
 ment to old ways, are the true " pickaninnies." 
 They are a mixture of bashfulnes and assurance, 
 and no sense of awe can keep their impudence in 
 check. 
 
 Thoroughly imbued with the principles of 
 " liberty, equality, and fraternity," it never enters 
 their heads that ragged clothes and grimy faces 
 are any bar to good society, and they press them-
 
 The Washington Pickaninny 243 
 
 selves quite as readily upon the notice of the young 
 aristocrat who issues forth in velvet knickerbock- 
 ers astride a bicycle, as they would hobnob with 
 the Irish newsboy. With even greater relish, 
 for the darky has no love for the " poor white," 
 and feels more at home in superior circles. 
 
 A Northerner can scarcely understand the free- 
 masonry that exists South between the white chil- 
 dren and these " pickaninnies." His taste is 
 shocked, and liberal opinions to the contrary, he 
 shrinks from actual contact with the " blacks." 
 But Southern children have equally in their blood 
 the instinct of fellowship with them. They patron- 
 ize and domineer over the inferior race at the same 
 time that they permit themselves to be used, as 
 the cunning little darkies do not hesitate to use 
 their more prosperous friends. It is no unusual 
 sight to see a tatterdemalion careering up and 
 down the street on a borrowed bicycle or toy cart, 
 while the youthful owner stands meekly waiting for 
 a chance to use his own property again, or to see 
 a talkative, ingenious little darky girl sitting on 
 the back stoop of some house where her mother 
 is employed, monopolizing for the nonce the dolls 
 and tea-sets of her obliging baby hostess, and 
 glibly giving her opinion as to how things should 
 be done. 
 
 She is always ready for any situation. Upon no
 
 244 The Washington Pickaninny- 
 inducement could she be made to confess her igno- 
 rance of " proper ways," and she has no hesitation 
 in giving lessons to her companions in " manners." 
 " Seems like you d'know how ter act, no way," 
 will exclaim with dignity some little ace-of-spades, 
 drawing herself up; but the hauteur is only mo- 
 mentary. There is so much rollicking humor 
 about these children of the street that it breaks 
 out in bursts of mimicry and droll speeches, so that 
 their anger seems like the harmless wrath of 
 monkeys. Yet they can be vindictive. There is a 
 dark streak in the grain of the African nature 
 which shows in occasional ferocity that appalls the 
 observer. Emotional creatures always have it in 
 them to be cruel, and the darky — the uneducated 
 darky, the old-fashioned stock bur ct simple — is 
 wholly emotional. 
 
 Superstition is rampant. The small children 
 have a sign for everything, and will avoid anything 
 quickly, if told that it is " bad luck." This makes 
 it possible to impose upon them and beguile them 
 into obeying when they are inclined to re'bel 
 against orders. Under orders they usually are. 
 It is the destiny of the ignorant to serve, and the 
 " pickaninny ' : unconsciously fulfils his mission. 
 Sometimes he is dumbly subservient, and some- 
 times loud in self-assertion, and yet, somehow, in 
 the tossing to and fro of the social balls, his is sure
 
 The Washington Pickaninny 245 
 
 ultimately to lodge underneath. This may be be- 
 cause there is an awful supremacy which he realizes 
 about mind. He has a certain jealous respect for 
 learning, and particularly at present when the ma- 
 jority of colored children attend school, and show 
 the result of this advantage in the proud display 
 they make of their school-books and the fragments 
 of learning. The injured " pickaninny " who must 
 mind the babies at home, or is debarred from his 
 schooling otherwise, has a sense of inferiority that 
 makes him the easy prey of persons of superior 
 understanding. 
 
 Colored parents are rather harsh to their chil- 
 dren. They beat them into submission while they 
 are babies, and naturally the young ones become 
 liars and cowards. A truthful, courageous colored 
 child is the exception among the class we are deal- 
 ing with. Of course, the educated colored family 
 is entirely different. The " pickaninny " is a selfish 
 little animal from the start. Otherwise he could 
 not survive. All the conditions are against him: 
 In the shanty smoke, scolding, scraps of food at 
 irregular intervals, a bed shared with three or four 
 others, perhaps; cold, dreariness, and discomfort 
 to the creature who has as innate a love of luxury 
 as a cat; out of doors nothing of earthly good 
 except what he can beg or steal. It is too much to 
 ask them to be moral. The old adage always
 
 246 The Washington Pickaninny- 
 seemed to me erroneous: " Cleanliness is next to 
 Godliness." Should it not run, " Cleanliness must 
 come before Godliness " ? Surely this is common 
 sense. But after all, wisdom must come before 
 either. A person must know a great deal before 
 he can conceive cleanliness. A propos is an anec- 
 dote of a colored mother who was rather a superior 
 person in her class. She had taught school once, 
 'and was now the sedate wife of a cartman and a 
 ' householder." Her oldest hopeful, a bright boy 
 of twelve, was " in service," and she was making a 
 call upon his employer to talk matters over. The 
 lady, a true Southerner in her readiness to haul her 
 servants up for misdemeanors of any description, 
 complained of the boy's dirtiness. " For good- 
 ness' sake, Fanny, why don't you make Will wash 
 himself ? " 
 
 Fanny had a way of drawling when she was seri- 
 ous, and leaning forward in her chair, she said now 
 very impressively: " Mis' Carleton, I know a man 
 what has a bathtub, and jest's soon's spring comes 
 (it was then November) I'm agoin' ter borrer it 
 from him, and give every one of them children a 
 bath ! ' But Fanny was an exceptionally devoted 
 mother. 
 
 A characteristic of colored parents is that they 
 will permit no one else to abuse their child. 
 They are even more " touchy " upon this point
 
 The Washington Pickaninny 247 
 
 than white parents, because of the memory of 
 that time when the " massa " possessed absolute 
 authority over their offspring, and they were 
 merely the rulers pro tern until such time as their 
 own flesh and blood should be given over entirely 
 to the legal owners. The simplest remark is often 
 construed into a threat which they resent. 
 
 Civilization, however, will soon do away with the 
 ' pickaninny ' : in his outward semblance. The 
 spirit of him will survive perhaps for generations, 
 but it will not be recognized. The fair capital city 
 is rapidly spreading its wings of progress over 
 every suburb, and that portion of its poor that it 
 cannot assimilate it will drive off. The " picka- 
 ninny " will be sent to school eventually; he will 
 be washed, clothed, and taught grammar, and to 
 disbelieve in the devil. He will cease his gambols 
 in the gutter, and become a staid citizen with inde- 
 pendent opinions in politics that cannot be bought, 
 and his children will be more and more like white 
 children, but they will not be so funny. Perhaps 
 not so jolly. Certainly not so interesting as they 
 are now.
 
 Early in his career, if at all, the child must learn that 
 knowledge, success, and wealth are not the only tangible 
 and valuable things in life, but that deep down where the 
 plummet of science never falls are springs of feeling and 
 wells of truth, from which the soul that would grow wise 
 and strong in its power to help others must continually hope 
 to be refreshed.
 
 Faith 
 
 There are some robberies which the law is 
 powerless to punish, and of which society takes no 
 account. And yet it were easier to part with 
 goods and chattels than to be deprived of one 
 thing which people habitually and in wanton 
 thoughtlessness take from little children. This is 
 hope. To be hopeful and enthusiastic is to believe 
 in one's power to do, and in the prospect of suc- 
 cess; it is to be buoyed up above the plodding, 
 every-day level into a region where inspirations 
 float towards us; it is to be helped and quickened 
 in a thousand ways during trials which otherwise 
 would overcome us. 
 
 And yet this mental attitude so strong to resist 
 hardships is of a poise so delicate that a breath of 
 cynicism coming from one whose opinion we re- 
 spect, the shock of cruel laughter, is sufficient to 
 destroy it. Of hope the poet might sing, as of truth, 
 that crushed to earth it shall rise again. But never 
 to so lofty a height. Each ascent after a downfall 
 is feebler than before. Finally it ceases to rise at 
 all, and the soul settles down in that noisome val- 
 ley of despond where only evil things live and 
 
 249
 
 250 Faith 
 
 where health, beauty, and energy rapidly die away. 
 
 Whoever discourages a little one, whoever takes 
 the heart out of his small enterprises and shadows 
 his bright fancy with ill predictions begins in that 
 young mind a process of destruction that may ex- 
 tend to all its energies. Carlyle, himself the queer- 
 est compound of hopefulness and despondency, 
 casts one of his Jovian thunderbolts at the crawling 
 foe whose venom had eaten into his own life. 
 " For scepticism is not intellectual only; it is moral 
 also; a chronic atrophy and disease of the whole 
 soul. A man lives by believing something; not 
 by debating and arguing about many things. A 
 sad case for him when all that he can manage to 
 believe is something he can button in his pocket. 
 . . . Lower than that he will not get." 
 
 Faith, then, is life. It does not so much matter 
 what thing we choose to do as that it should seem 
 for us at the time the most important thing in all 
 the world. Work done in this spirit is in some 
 way effective, and will count, although it may be in 
 itself trivial. 
 
 Children naturally work in this way, and play in 
 this way at whatever they undertake of their own 
 accord, and it is a grave mistake to interrupt and 
 interfere with them, to belittle their self-elected 
 tasks, and persuade them of the uselessness and 
 folly of something that may look to us inane.
 
 Faith 
 
 251 
 
 How do we know but that they are getting from 
 these pastimes the very training that they most 
 need ? How can we divine the heat of enthu- 
 siasm, the serious purpose, the lofty faith that ani- 
 mate their persevering efforts ! At the instant we 
 see nothing but folly, the way is perhaps being pre- 
 pared for some work the world will value; for long 
 before any great act is performed the mind is disci- 
 plined and attuned to its purpose by exercises 
 seemingly little related to it. The miniature feats 
 enacted in the child-world are prophetic and pre- 
 paratory for the life drama of the larger future. 
 
 Let us, then, leave to the child his enthusiasms. 
 We have no right to utter in his presence those 
 dreary axioms with which we quench many of our 
 own truest impulses. " Enthusiasm," avows Bul- 
 wer, " is the genius of sincerity, and truth accom- 
 plishes no victories without it." What one of us, 
 wearied and half beaten in the struggle for exist- 
 ence, would not eagerly live over again, if it were 
 possible, one of those happy hours far back in 
 youth, when all our faculties were alert and alive, 
 when the present seemed desirable, the future 
 roseate, and we ourselves godlike in capacity ! An 
 illusion, perhaps, but it is out of such illusions that 
 spring inspirations of genius. One of our most 
 brilliant essayists wrote an elaborate treatise once 
 to prove that all the great work of the world had
 
 252 Faith 
 
 been conceived and often begun in youth. And 
 it is certain that unless the impulse is given then, 
 it never will be. 
 
 The period comes when scarcely anything seems 
 possible; the spirit of enterprise wanes. Lifting up a 
 chair to carry from one room to another may seem 
 harder than it would once have seemed to have 
 invented a new language or to have built the Suez 
 canal. But in such seasons of dulness let us re- 
 frain from spreading our personal disease. 
 
 Beware, above all, of bringing the cloud of 
 doubt and discouragement into the child's inno- 
 cent, fearless eyes. Encourage him to believe in 
 the sanity of his own faculties, and he will then 
 nurse into sturdy life energy that may accomplish 
 something well worth the doing.
 
 Several of the interesting books issued as " studies " in 
 child psychology, reveal the fact that incidents repeat them- 
 selves in the lives of most imaginative persons. Certain 
 stages of development are usually marked by certain ex- 
 periences. Jean Ingelow, Margaret Deland, and Frances 
 Hodgson Burnett all give us a. view of the strangely sub- 
 jective lives led by children under the semblance of healthy 
 commonplace activities. They enact the most extraordinary 
 dramas under our very eyes, and we know nothing about 
 them. They build cities, rehearse the deeds of their favorite 
 characters, invent new languages, and play all the fantastic 
 tricks that an uncurbed fancy can suggest. In reading some 
 of these autobiographical sketches we are often surprised to 
 find that some incident that belonged to our own childhood, 
 and that we fondly believed to be unique, was an experience 
 shared by strangers.
 
 Infant Hoodooism 
 
 The shadow of superstition falls darkly upon the 
 child of the South. But in the merry fashion of 
 children he sports with it and turns into play the 
 weird fancies that at their first approach chill his 
 blood with terror. The ancient " mammy," once 
 a family institution, has vanished, but she has left 
 her trace. She whispered secrets to her grand- 
 children, and it will be long before the public 
 school eradicates that impression. And what her 
 white nurslings heard at her knee they stored up 
 unconsciously, to tell as legends to their own off- 
 spring, who were sure to have this fascinating lore 
 reinforced by mysterious hints from the colored 
 servants, who believed and trembled, even while 
 they scouted the tales of " ole maum Liza " or 
 " maum Nancy," as the case might be. 
 
 " Conjuring " is an art whose mention strikes 
 terror to the hearts of the blacks, and awes the 
 white children who are sufficiently under their in- 
 fluence not to care to contradict stories they do 
 not entirely accept. These tales of " how de debil 
 'peared to uncle Ike one night in de da'ak woods," 
 or how " HI' John was mos' sca'at out o' he wits by 
 
 254
 
 Infant Hoodooism 255 
 
 de figer in white w'at laid a spell on him," obtain 
 place in their memory with the folk-lore of India 
 and Arabia which they gather from their fairy- 
 books, and their alert imaginations construct of 
 all this material queer little creeds which they hug 
 in secret, and out of which spring some of the 
 oddest pranks it could enter into the head of a 
 child to play. 
 
 It is almost with a qualm of conscience that the 
 author turns state's evidence and draws the veil of 
 secrecy which shrouds these scenes from the pro- 
 fane gaze of the unsympathetic " grown-up," and 
 she only does it upon the express understanding 
 that if any occurrence narrated should be located 
 by some suspicious parent, no penalty is to attach 
 to any little culprit who shall be by these means 
 found out ! So, bespeaking pardon in advance, the 
 acknowledgment may follow that the quiet back 
 yards of many staid and respectable houses witness 
 the enactment of scenes which would cause the 
 hair to rise on the head of the dignified pater- 
 familias, and make mamma avow that her innocent 
 little children were surely bewitched. But for the 
 most part, these exciting performances are the 
 work of a single agent. Rarely does the child pos- 
 sessed of a determination to exercise the black art 
 admit his dearest friend to his confidence. Partly 
 from a dread of ridicule — the great bugbear of
 
 256 Infant Hoodooism 
 
 childhood — and partly from the delight it affords 
 ;him to feel that he is in secret league with some 
 awe-inspiring power of the air or earth, he pursues 
 his frightfully pleasant little occupation alone and 
 where he is sure of being unwatched. 
 
 It is in the soft air of the southern Indian sum- 
 mer, or during the fervid heat of the " dog days," 
 that the romantic child, whose mind is full of 
 myths, legends, and ghost-stories, feels inspired to 
 try his hand as a conjurer. The impression is 
 strong, as it once was with the men who persist- 
 ently sought for the elixir of life, that there is 
 some happy combination of circumstances, which, 
 if he can catch it, will endow him with the coveted 
 power. He apprehends that it is made up of 
 words, gestures, and the right aspect of the sun, 
 or perhaps even the condition of the bricks or 
 stones in the walk, which to his fancy are full of 
 latent life, only waiting to start forth at a mystic 
 touch. Woe be it at this wonderful instant, to the 
 nurse or visitor, or even relative, who shall offend 
 the young creature in the mood to work a miracle ! 
 If she could but know it, she is in imminent danger 
 of being transformed into a donkey or even a dog, 
 at the behest of the little one who, with a few drops 
 of water in his hand, waits for her to turn her back 
 so that he may besprinkle her to the accompani- 
 ment of some muttered words, the weirdest and
 
 Infant Hoodooism 257 
 
 most unlike his mother tongue that his wits can 
 devise ! 
 
 Or it may be that leaning from an attic window 
 and holding on to some quaint object, whose odd- 
 ity might well entitle it to be the repository of oc- 
 cult power, the child goes through those " woven 
 paces and waving arms " which the Arabian en- 
 chanter, as well as the fabled Merlin of whom he 
 has probably not heard, made the prelude to some 
 mighty incantation. Ever on the outlook for the 
 spell-working thing which he needs, and is sure 
 of ultimately finding, he eagerly seizes and hoards 
 whatever has about it the slightest tinge of mys- 
 tery. There was an old carpenter's level lying 
 about in a certain house, that had strayed into the 
 family from some unknown source, and it was ap- 
 propriated by a little girl whose fanciful mind en- 
 dowed the drop of mercury, that flowed from the 
 end to the side of the stick as she inclined it, with 
 the property of life. She convinced herself that it 
 was a fairy imprisoned by an enchanter, and spent 
 many an hour dallying with it and longing for the 
 magic word which could set the captive free. 
 
 This magic word is a continually craved posses- 
 sion. The child feels that the common language 
 of his country will not furnish it, and so an out-of- 
 the-way phrase has a fascination for him, particu- 
 larly a scrap of a foreign tongue. One little creature
 
 258 Infant Hoodooism 
 
 set a high value upon " abracadabra " as an ex- 
 pletive, and only lost faith in it when repeated trials 
 under varied surroundings proved its inefficiency 
 to transform her foes into animals, or stones into 
 diamonds. Colored waters prepared in certain 
 ways are supposed to have peculiar properties, and 
 real witches' broth is prepared upon occasion by 
 stewing frogs' legs, brick-dust, and — excuse me, 
 dainty reader — earthworms. A never-to-be-for- 
 gotten scene took place in the far end of a garden, 
 where remote from help, a poor little child, de- 
 spised 'by the other village children and dubbed 
 ' May Jane Crazy," was half cajoled, half com- 
 pelled by a naughty boy to partake of this witches' 
 broth, and in the momentary consternation which 
 followed her swallowing it, the youthful enchanter 
 tried to change her into a horned owl. 
 
 But of this added insult the injured one remained 
 happily unconscious. It is to be remarked that 
 the intended victims always are unconscious of the 
 harm essayed. Great would be their consterna- 
 tion if they should wheel around at some unpro- 
 pitious moment, and catch the little conjurer in the 
 very act. There is upon record one instance of 
 such a mishap occurring, and the chief actor long 
 looked back to that day as the one of evil import, 
 which made the turning-point in his life. This 
 boy of eleven had had the peculiar good fortune
 
 Infant Hoodooism 259 
 
 to have been taken care of by an old " mammy " 
 who was at the time of his birth a great-grand- 
 mother. Innumerable were the legends with 
 which she rilled his baby ears, and dark and sig- 
 nificant were the warnings she conveyed of what 
 would happen to him if the " Tom Lofflin " who 
 lived up in the dormer windows ever caught him 
 loitering around the yard after he had been 
 naughty. Putting her detached tales together, the 
 ingenious young gentleman evolved a certain 
 philosophy of diabolatry with which to turn the 
 tables on his ancient guardian. He made a private 
 collection in his tin treasure box of such things as 
 he deemed needful, and when the hour had arrived 
 he persuaded " mammy " to sit out on the door- 
 step in the gathering dusk of a strangely sultry 
 evening, and tell him her best ghost-story. As 
 she grew increasingly enthusiastic and engrossed 
 in her own creation — after the fashion of her tribe 
 — Jim seized the opportunity to steal behind her, 
 and throwing over her head a mosquito-net 
 weighted with stones at each corner to keep it 
 down, he shouted in a gruff, and what he hoped 
 was a sepulchral tone, " Get on your knees, nigger; 
 I'm Tom Lofflin come to carry you off ! ' : And, as 
 it would happen, there came at that instant a vivid 
 flash of lightning, followed by a clap that shook 
 the house. The startled old woman tumbled back
 
 260 Infant Hoodooism 
 
 in a fainting fit, and when the repentant boy had 
 summoned assistance the net was found entangled 
 over her head, and the whole naughty plot was laid 
 bare. For some time the negress vowed that Jim 
 had " conju'ed " her, and the child really believed 
 that he had done so. But the effect being so seri- 
 ous, he gave up the practice of magic, for which he 
 had rare ability, and settled down into a common- 
 place boy. 
 
 The delightful feature of hoodooism, to the 
 child, is the mystery and uncertainty which attend 
 it. Always confident that something is going to 
 happen, he never can conjecture what it will be, 
 or whether it will involve him in unpleasant conse- 
 quences. Nothing would astonish him more than 
 to have some of his tricks succeed. But whether 
 he scrutinizes the gardens and fields for the rock 
 with a ring in it which will reveal, when pulled up, 
 stairs leading to fairy-land, or whether he revels by 
 night in masks and sheet draperies, or goes deeper 
 into conjuring by slyly stealing hairs from the 
 heads of his unsuspecting relatives to put through 
 some process which will give him power over 
 them, the child of all climes has it in him to be, as 
 the child of the South pre-eminently is, an infant 
 hoodooist.
 
 "Children," says some one who evidently sympathizes with 
 the feelings of a little one perpetually goaded beyond his 
 inclinations, " should never be hurried. When a child is 
 old enough to go to school, is early enough for him to learn 
 that time is valuable. When it is little, let it develop slowly 
 and naturally, expanding its life as deliberately as the rose 
 or lily unfolds its buds."
 
 The Passing of Childhood 
 
 At fourteen or fifteen the " May I ? " of the 
 child changes into the less deferential " Shall I ? " 
 or " Would you ? " of youth, and our young 
 daughter and son begin to avoid the necessity of 
 asking leave to carry out their wishes. They are 
 not so ready as they were a little while ago to ex- 
 plain all their plans, nor do they show so much 
 anxiety for our co-operation. It is the tale of in- 
 fancy repeated. Yesterday baby clung tenaciously 
 to the mother's outstretched finger, not daring to 
 loosen his grasp for an instant, as his little feet 
 made the circuit of the room; to-day he stands 
 alone and shakes his curls in answer to her offer 
 of help, and his eyes glow with triumph when he 
 finds that he can support himself on his own two 
 sturdy legs. 
 
 Baby learns that he can walk, that he can reach 
 things, that he can open and close doors, that he 
 can select from many articles before him the par- 
 ticular one he wants; and so soon as he is con- 
 scious of his ability to act for himself he does it. 
 
 But birthdays come and go, and John is thir- 
 
 262
 
 The Passing of Childhood 263 
 
 teen, and alive in every nerve and fibre with the 
 full-pulsed life of the American temperament; he is 
 ambitious, and seeks ideals and models from the 
 great world outside the walls of home, and he talks 
 excitedly of what ' other boys '' do, and finds 
 precedent for the individual liberty he is beginning 
 to pant and chafe after. Mary, with the first lustre 
 of life yet fresh on her brow, has shed infantile 
 docility like a garment, and has haunting visions of 
 the joys of independence. It all seems sudden to 
 the parent, and it is not quite pleasant. There is 
 a pretty sentiment in favor of prolonging baby- 
 hood, and the world is brutal and ugly, and inno- 
 cence is precious. Besides, the instant our fledg- 
 lings are out of our sight untold anxieties begin 
 for us. We are inclined to put off the evil day. 
 
 This is the way a sentiment can make us selfish, 
 and fears for the future make us unjust. We have 
 no right to choose what is easy for ourselves, how- 
 ever, rather than what is best for our children. It 
 is the growing manhood and womanhood in them 
 that begins to assert itself and claim recognition. 
 The wings meant for wide flight ere long are rap- 
 idly unfolding, and the courage soon to be essen- 
 tial is manifesting itself in the feeling of pride and 
 dignity which makes our boy long to go and come 
 as he pleases, and our girl to make her own en- 
 gagements and decide upon her own affairs. This
 
 264 The Passing of Childhood 
 
 looks alarming, but, after all, it is no great matter, 
 for what the children really crave now is liberty 
 to exercise their own judgment. 
 
 John is dying to establish radical differences be- 
 tween himself and the little " kids " whose duty it 
 is to be under watch and ward. He knows he is 
 not a member of the Small-fry Society any longer; 
 he has been living and learning for a dozen years 
 and more, and he knows enough now to take some 
 responsibility upon himself. And the girl is no 
 less womanly in her own estimation; she feels 
 herself worthy of trust, and at this juncture, if a 
 mother is wise she will gratify this natural and in- 
 evitable ambition. It would be most injudicious 
 to draw the lines closer when youthful high spirits 
 begin to pull upon them. Liberty is to be re- 
 tarded only for a year or so at the most, and for 
 every restraint imposed there will be a correspond- 
 ing excess. It is well known that some of the 
 wildest youths, the friskiest young women, were 
 kept down to a strict regimen as long as parental 
 oversight lasted. They came to regard restraint, 
 even when kindly meant, as an evil, to like their 
 own way just for its own sake; and the result is 
 anything but pleasant when young persons with 
 untrained wills and judgment are turned loose 
 upon the community. If they are not wilful they ;> 
 are weak; and accustomed to yield to stronger
 
 The Passing of Childhood 265 
 
 minds, they become the prey of unscrupulous 
 leaders. 
 
 The world claims our children from us in good 
 time, and our constant aim should be to prepare 
 them within the sanctuary of home for the self- 
 government they ought to exercise as soon as they 
 leave our care. The preparation must consist in 
 a gradual substitution of their own judgment for 
 ours. Beginning in trifles it should extend to 
 nearly all matters by the time they reach fourteen 
 or fifteen. After that, in a well-ordered home, com- 
 mands should be obsolete. This is not to say that 
 government should be suspended. There is no 
 such thing in all this world as entire independence. 
 We are all " under the law," but in enlightened 
 communities not offensively so; not subservient, 
 only rationally deferential. And this is the rule 
 for parents to observe with their half-grown chil- 
 dren; to have them feel that they are not so much 
 under government as at one with it; that they, in a 
 sense, make their own laws by being reasonable, 
 and deferring to larger experience where their own 
 falls short. 
 
 Never was there more need for tact and forbear- 
 ance upon the parents' side, for at best, and even in 
 homes where there has always been confidence, 
 affection, and sympathy between their children and 
 themselves, this period when childhood is fading
 
 266 The Passing of Childhood 
 
 into the background with all its graces and beau- 
 ties, and giving way to adolescence with its un- 
 couthness and its crudities, is a trying one. To the 
 onlooker who cares nothing about the young bud 
 struggling through its rough green covering, the 
 period of adolescence is simply an ugly period, to 
 be borne with, as far as possible, as one bears other 
 periodical afflictions; but to the eyes of love it 
 has other aspects. 
 
 There is something pathetic in the struggle of 
 the child to cast aside its child nature and put on 
 the nature of manhood and womanhood. He is 
 beset internally by misgivings, even while he is 
 urged on by ambition. He wants — he scarce 
 knows what; but something new, and never be- 
 fore possessed. Perhaps, in a nutshell, the great 
 desire of his soul is to be left somewhat to himself, 
 yet with sympathy within call, and to be trusted. 
 It is a great evidence of tact now for the mother 
 or father to say, with a kind smile, " Do What you 
 think best about this matter, my son. You are old 
 enough to judge what is right." Happy respon- 
 sibility ! Delightful confidence ! influence is 
 never stronger than when it withdraws slightly 
 into the background, leaving its object apparently 
 free. 
 
 A good deal is said nowadays about the extraor- 
 dinary freedom our children have. Seemingly it
 
 The Passing of Childhood 267 
 
 is so. But looking here and there an observer 
 notes little real change among the average people. 
 
 A young friend of mine, whose happy married 
 life has not yet driven from her memory a cramped 
 and embittered youth, confided to ime that the one 
 idea that haunted her from eight to eighteen was 
 that of running away from home. If she had been 
 less conscientious, a little more reckless, what a 
 gulf of ruin her innocent feet might have plunged 
 into, to escape the intolerable nagging and inter- 
 ference she was subject to in her father's house ! 
 
 We little know What effect our thoughtless and 
 meaningless words of comment and childing for 
 every small matter that goes wrong produce upon 
 the half-grown girl and boy. They are apt to be 
 reserved, and to become sullen under restraints 
 they dislike, and when this sullen attitude once sets 
 in we may say farewell to all confidential inter- 
 course between parent and child. To avert such 
 an evil we will do well to apply all our powers of 
 tact and kmdness. Let us avoid arousing the 
 spirit of perverseness that stirs in every young 
 creature at this period of life, and by enlarging his 
 opportunities for action as his ambition extends, 
 soothe any budding revolutionary ideas and inspire 
 in him the trust and confidence in parental benevo- 
 lence that will be his safeguard when he needs ad- 
 vice and assistance. For youth never stands in
 
 268 The Passing of Childhood 
 
 deeper need of wise guidance than at this time 
 when there is a desire to dispense with it. But 
 the guidance must be so wise, so tactful, so gentle, 
 that even the most independent young soul ,will 
 feel that love, and not force, is the motive power 
 that draws him toward what is best, and that he is 
 restrained by nothing except his own honor and 
 trained sense of right.
 
 The " awkward age " is with some happily balanced chil- 
 dren little more than a name, but with many it is a period 
 of real trial and a time of mortification and uneasiness to 
 their parents. They are ungainly and noisy, and make the 
 speeches that interested friends blush to hear. They are, in 
 a word, infelicitous in every way, and one has to fight a 
 strong desire to banish them out of sight until they nail 
 have come into better relations with their surroundings. 
 Yet there is no doubt that these unfledged men and women 
 undergo as much suffering themselves as their maladroit con- 
 duct inflicts upon others, and the only thing that we can do 
 for them now is to let them alone. In time, all the careful 
 training they have had during their childhood will show 
 results, and their chaotic ideas and opinions will settle down 
 into an orderly arrangement, just as their arms and legs 
 will grow less conspicuous from being brought into proper 
 proportion with the rest of their bodies. The parental van- 
 ity that makes us sensitive to their defects of person and of 
 manner must be conquered enough to keep us quiet and 
 patient while nature turns our ugly duckling into the swan.
 
 Planning for Our Children 
 
 Long ago, when I was a child myself in years, 
 I read this sentence in Macaulay's Essays, and 
 copied it into my note-book: " Nothing is more 
 conducive to happiness than the free exercise of 
 the mind in pursuits congenial to it." The experi- 
 ences of later life have confirmed that swift-leaping 
 recognition of a great truth, which impressed me 
 then rather with a prophetic sense of its import 
 than as advice to be considered as immediately 
 applicable. What was dimly perceived then as 
 touching upon certain constraints and limitations, 
 against which my young protests were strongly 
 excited, has grown more distinct and taken a wide 
 range as I have come to observe the unhappiness 
 wrought in other lives through thwarted instincts 
 and mistaken application of energy. 
 
 One of the most natural things in the world is 
 the belief that what is agreeable to ourselves is 
 good for other people. Selfishness disguises itself 
 under the name of solicitude, and when an uncon- 
 genial acquaintance is wanted out of the way he 
 is assured that the climate of Algeria will benefit 
 him. Society offers many temptations of this sort, 
 
 270
 
 Planning for Our Children 271 
 
 but our influence over friends is according to the 
 measure of their weakness. If they know what 
 they like, no persuasion from us can make them 
 prefer our suggestions to their own ideas, and our 
 power lies only in the way of affecting their imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 But over our nearest and dearest we exercise 
 the strong influence of affection and intimate re- 
 lationship. If there is one member of any family 
 who has a passion for management, he is likely to 
 make life very anxious for the rest. ' I should 
 like to know if there's anything in the world you 
 don't feel called on to see to ! ' exclaimed the 
 grandmother in " Old-town Folks " to her strong- 
 minded daughter Lois, when that spinster had 
 taken away little Horace's Latin book so that he 
 might the better centre his ambition upon the 
 shoemaking for which she destined him. Such 
 acts of interference are not uncommon, and they 
 are not, unhappily, confined to spinster aunts, 
 whose decrees are subject to revision by those in 
 greater authority; but wives foresee their hus- 
 bands' peculiar fitness for certain careers, and art- 
 fully cast a glamour over something utterly re- 
 moved from previous experience; husbands take 
 the liberty of deciding the province in which their 
 wives' talents lie, and, above all, parents plan the 
 future lives of their children, and surround them
 
 272 Planning for Our Children 
 
 from the cradle with a network constructed of 
 their own preferences and prejudices, so that only 
 the most resolute and original minds escape to en- 
 ter upon the life for which nature has designed 
 them. 
 
 Among my young friends is a lad who has 
 shown from his kindergarten days decided taste for 
 literary studies. He was unfortunately early de- 
 prived of the care of a tender mother; and his father, 
 having a craze for science, has fairly bullied the 
 child out of pursuits he loves and set him at the 
 grind of a manual-training school. The chemical 
 laboratory, which to minds having a bias that way 
 would be delightful, is to him merely : ' a bad 
 smell." He once walked fourteen miles in a pelt- 
 ing rain to procure a Latin grammar, and pores 
 over it every spare minute, while his short-sighted 
 parent dins what he terms " common sense " into 
 his unwilling ears, and binds this natural student 
 to work that has a demoralizing effect upon his 
 not over-strong nerves. 
 
 Another instance of misplaced ambition is that 
 of a mother who decreed that her only son was to 
 go through Harvard. He was a ruddy-cheeked, 
 boisterous young fellow when I first saw him, and 
 his soul was set upon things aquatic. His whole 
 talk was of steamships, catboats, wherries, etc., 
 and he had picked up a really surprising amount of
 
 Planning for Our Children 273 
 
 information from library books, and was enthu- 
 siastic upon this one subject, while dumb as an 
 oyster when the conversation turned upon other 
 matters. I suggested sending him to Annapolis 
 to prepare for the navy, where family influence 
 might have materially aided in his career, but his 
 mother stubbornly resisted any interference with 
 her plans. The other day the news came to me 
 that the boy had run away from school and was on 
 board a cruiser bound for Japan. 
 
 This running away is the almost certain expe- 
 dient of determined natures. History teems with 
 stories of boys fleeing from uncongenial occupa- 
 tions, and not nearly so often to shirk work as to 
 enter upon work for which they feel themselves 
 fitted. Yet this wrench which sets them free from 
 unbearable tasks parts them also from the tender 
 ties of home life, and exacts a sacrifice of affection 
 which even genius must weep over. I know of a 
 woman who, as a precocious girl of fourteen, was 
 restrained from revolt against the scheme of edu- 
 cation arranged for her, when, to her fancy, the 
 world offered no enchantment equal to an artist's 
 brush and a box of colors, by reading the following 
 sentence in Charles Kingsley: " I have known girls 
 think they were doing a fine thing by leaving un- 
 congenial parents and cutting out for themselves, 
 as they imagined, a more elevated or useful line of
 
 274 Planning for Our Children 
 
 life than that of mere home duties, while, after all, 
 poor things, they were, in the name of God, neg- 
 lecting the command of God to honor their 
 father and mother." Conscience-bound, she went 
 through the routine appointed for her for six long, 
 weary years, when accident, not her own decision, 
 made an artist's career possible to her. " But I lost 
 six of the best years of life," she said, sadly, " be- 
 cause my poor mother was convinced that she 
 knew me better than I knew myself." 
 
 It is certain that in early youth people often 
 know themselves better than after the world has 
 pulled them out of shape. The longings and as- 
 pirations of childhood are sometimes heaven-sent 
 visions of our true vocation in life. Not always. 
 Some natures seem to require a certain amount of 
 experimenting before the right work can be found. 
 (The happiest gift a person can possess is the ability 
 Tto recognize his own powers early. The earlier 
 the better, for education grows constantly more 
 complex, and the preparatory steps to each 
 specialty are longer now than they used to be; so 
 that time and energy are precious and not to be 
 lightly wasted. Ordinarily children do not think 
 much about what is to come after their school days 
 are ended, and it is not well to force upon them 
 the view of their coming responsibilities. Let 
 them have their period of dalliance and lightness.
 
 Planning for Our Children 275 
 
 But we can, without their knowledge, gain much 
 insight into their natures and aid them in a true 
 self-development. We can direct their activities 
 into useful channels and learn what they can do 
 by their method of doing what we set for them. 
 " Our work," said Carlyle, " is the mirror wherein 
 we first see our natural lineaments." 
 
 The trouble with educators is that they are apt 
 to see in the young a reflection of themselves, and 
 interpret signs wrongly. We want to force our 
 own individuality upon others when perhaps they 
 have individuality of their own entirely different. 
 This would not occur if all parents were convinced 
 of the truth of Macaulay's saying, that " happiness 
 is chiefly to be found in congenial work." Such 
 a large part of the lives of most of us must be 
 passed in work that it is heart-rending to think 
 how many people are passing the day in uncon- 
 genial labors, going about their tasks mechanically, 
 while deep down in their souls is some yearning 
 that shall never find expression in this world. No 
 matter if it is a yearning for something not so good 
 as the thing they are doing, not so high nor so honor- 
 able. High and low are only conventional words, 
 and have nothing to do with happiness. The one 
 perfect bliss is an inspiration, and it comes at times 
 to every one who is pursuing his natural vocation. 
 In the midst of pain and despair it flashes over the
 
 276 Planning for Our Children 
 
 artist at his easel; while he stammers and fears to 
 fail, it breathes sweet suggestion into the ears of 
 the orator; perplexities and weariness are forgot- 
 ten by the little dressmaker who, loving her art, 
 feels the stimulus of a new idea. And who shall 
 interpret the deep joy of the born sailor as he gazes 
 upon a starry night over the infinite waves and 
 feels himself afloat in his natural element ? How 
 do we know but that the scissors-grinder who pre- 
 fers grinding scissors has his moments of pleasure 
 over a well-ground blade, even as the cook tri- 
 umphs in the success of her entree. It matters not 
 what work we do in the world so that it is our work, 
 and the gratifications attending congenial occupa- 
 tion are so immense that even partial success in 
 life — that is, less money and less rank than we wish 
 — gives us, upon the whole, more happiness than 
 a complete prosperity gained at the expense of 
 much dull and embittering grind in an occupation 
 chosen solely with a view to that end. 
 
 It is true there are facile, adaptable natures that 
 seem able to accommodate themselves to any cir- 
 cumstances and can do one thing as well as an- 
 other; but people of this sort usually need a large 
 amount of pleasure outside of their work, if they 
 do not shirk work altogether. There are many 
 drones in the great human hive, but they are not 
 born intentionally. The world needs persons of
 
 Planning for Our Children 277 
 
 talent, of energy, and, above all, of rightly directed 
 industry. It is the duty of parents to see to it that 
 their children's steps are early set in the path that 
 may lead them to usefulness and contentment; to 
 give them, as far as possible, a chance for develop- 
 ment of their natural abilities, and leave them 
 liberty of choice as to their life pursuit. 
 
 There is a certain amount of general culture 
 essential to every rank of life, and as regards this 
 we cannot abate duties to humor a child's whims. 
 But let us repress the disposition, so natural to a 
 parent, to make a child the vehicle of our own 
 ambition; let us refrain from appointing the infant 
 to a particular niche, or ordaining that at any cost 
 of pain to him he is to accomplish a certain destiny. 
 Such planning is presumptuous. There is a tend- 
 ency in every being to unfold in a fashion of its 
 own, and our duty is to watch, to help, and to en- 
 encourage, and to respect the wonder of indi- 
 viduality 
 
 We should not put a young mind through any 
 mill because that mill is fashionable, nor because 
 it has always been patronized by our family. Tra- 
 ditions and customs are bagatelles compared with 
 the welfare of a single human being. Yet they 
 are larger in our eyes because easier understood 
 than character. To that we are apt to attach less 
 importance than to worldly success. But oh, that is
 
 278 Planning for Our Children 
 
 such a will-o'-the-wisp ! Our planning cannot se- 
 cure it for our children. After taking the greatest 
 trouble we may see them perish of want, no matter 
 what we may have chosen for them. Let us plan 
 but little, then; let us leave their souls free. Suc- 
 cess ! — success is doing well the thing we were 
 formed to do. 
 
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