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THE THOUGHTFUL MOTHER
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN C02VIPANV f
B05TON tf
B05TON
NKWYORK
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NOTE
ALL rights in the stories and poems in this volume
^ are reserved by holders of the copyrights. The
publishers and others named in the subjoined hst are
the proprietors, either in their own right or as agents
of the authors, of the stories and poems taken from the
works enumerated, of which the ownership is hereby
acknowledged. The editor takes this opportunity to
thank both authors and publishers for the ready gen-
erosity with which they have allowed her to include this
material in "The Kindergarten Children's Hour."
"Thinking and Answering," and "The City Beauti-
ful" (from "The Child's Day," by Dr. Woods Hutch-
inson) ; published by Houghton Mifflin Company.
"The Garden of Bluebells," and "The Secret" (from
"With the Little Folks," by Isa L. Wright); pubHshed
by Houghton Mifflin Company.
"A Child's Right to Noisy Play," "A Child's Right
to a Happy Home," and "A Child's Right to Work,"
by G. W. Tuttle; "Toys Made in America," by Mrs.
Martha Gallaudet Waring; "Teaching Children True
Values," by Emma Gary W^allace; "How I Made my
Home Attractive for the Young People," by F. G. B.,
and "The Bad Child," by Henriette E. Delamare (from
"The Child Welfare Magazine"); pubhshed by the
National Congress of Mothers and Parent-Teacher
Associations.
NOTE
"Child Nature and Child Nurture," by Edward
St. John; published by The Pilgrim Press.
"Reading Aloud to the Child," by Hamhn Garland;
published by Bureau of Education and National
Kindergarten Association.
"A Dream," by Annie E. Allen (from "St. Nich-
olas"); pubHshed by the Century Company.
"Social Education," by Dr. Colin A. Scott; pub-
lished by Ginn & Company.
"Little Lights" (from "Fables from Afar," by
Catherine T. Bryce) ; published by Newson & Company.
"The Search for a Good Child," by Maud Lindsay;
published by Milton Bradley Company.
"My Neighbors," by Miss Mary E. Laing; pub-
lished by Benjamin H. Sanborn & Company.
"The Story of a Child," by Pierre Loti (translation);
published by C. C. Birchard & Company.
"Mottoes and Commentaries of Froebel's Mother
Play," translated and edited by Susan E. Blow; pub-
lished by D. Appleton & Company.
"Education of Henry Adams"; pubhshed by Hough-
ton Mifflin Company.
Selections from "Noble Lives and Noble Deeds," by
E. A. Horton; pubhshed by the Unitarian Sunday
School Association.
PREFATORY NOTE
THE chapters, ''The Helpful Child," "The Sing-
ing ChUd," '*The Questioning Child" (in part),
"The Social Child," and "The Evening Prayer," were
written by Miss Elizabeth Colson, whose cooperation
and interest have been of value in the preparation of
this book.
Lucy Wheelock
CONTENTS
I. The Thoughtful Mother 1
n. Whose Child Is It? 7
in. The Soul of a Child 13
IV. The Healthy Child 19
V. The Five Senses 30
VI. Child Play 39
Vn. Playthings 49
Vm. The Little Workman 59
IX. Thrift 67
X. The Helpful Child 77
XI. How Children Learn 88
Xn. The Listening Child 99
Xm. The Story 108
XIV. The Dreamer 114
XV. The Child and His Book 129
XVI. The Little Actor 135
XVn. The Little Artist 143
XVni. The Singing Child 149
XIX. The Little Musician 160
XX. The Questioning Child 171
XXI. The Light-Bird 186
XXn. The Social Child 193
XXni. Habits 201
XXIV. The Obedient Child 209
XXV. The Honest Child 216
ix
CONTENTS
XXVI. The Angry Child 228
XXVn. The Careless Child 235
XXVin. The Truthful Child 245
XXIX. The Good Child 278
XXX. The Bad Child 293
XXXI. The Evening Prayer 305
XXXn. The Little Citizen 313
XXXin. Brothers and Sisters 326
XXXIV. The Home 333
XXXV. Home Festivals 341
XXXVI. The Mother and the Teacher . . . 355
Appendix
Methods and Means of Studying Children 365
Thinking and Answering 372
The City Beautiful 377
Reference Lists 385
ILLUSTRATIONS
The Thoughtful Mother
From a drawing by Katharine R. Wireman. Colored Frontispiece
Title Page (in color) . From a drawing by Alice Ercle Hunt
Supper From a painting by Ernest Fosbery 22
Out for a Drive From a photograph 40
The Little Builders (in color)
From a dramng by Alice B. Preston 50
The Boyhood of Raleigh
From the painting by Sir John Everett Millais 100
The First Inspirations of Columbus
From the statue by Giulio Monteverde 118
The Boy Michelangelo carving the Head of the Faun
From the statue by Emilio Zoccki 144
The First Music Lesson . From a painting by Francis Day 162
The Questioning Child (in color)
From a dramng by Alice Barber Stephens 178
The Little Samuel From the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds 308
Brothers and Sisters (in color)
From a drawing by Alice Barber Stephens 328
THE BIU\^ST BATTLE
The bravest battle that ever was fought;
Shall I tell you where and when ?
On the maps of the world you will find it not;
It was fought by the mothers of men.
Nay, not with cannon or battle shot.
With sword or braver pen;
Nay, not unth eloquent word oi- thought,
From mouths of wonderful men.
But deep in a woman's walled-up heart —
Of woman that would not yield.
But patiently, silently bore her part —
Loi there is that battlefield.
No marshaling troop, no bivouac song;
No banners to gleam and wave;
And oh! these battles they last so long —
From babyhood to the gravel
Yet, faithfid still as a bridge of stars.
She fights in her walled-up toum —
Fights on and on in the endless wars.
Then silent, unseen — goes down.
Joaquin Miller
TALKS TO MOTHERS
I
THE THOUGHTFUL MOTHER
**In praise of little children, I will say,
God first made man then found a better way
For woman, and his third way was the best
Of all created things the loveliest
And most divine are children."
William Canton
MARY kept all these things and pondered them in
her heart." All women like to talk. Mothers like
best to talk about their children. They like to tell of
their children's ways and of their sayings. There is
nothing more interesting to tell and nothing more im-
portant to discuss. So these talks to mothers are to be
about children. By talking together we may learn some-
thing more about them and become more wise in caring
for them. At this present time, when we are making a
"new world" and facing a "new order," the education
and training of children take on a new value. We must
wait, perhaps, for the coming generation to grow up
before we see the old order change for the better. You
hope that your boy may grow so loyal and true and fine
that he will be a leader in the new world. You train your
little girl to be helpful and brave and self-reliant, that
she may take her part in securing better conditions in
the world to be. You know that your part in the world's
1
TALKS TO MOTHERS
work is to send out from your home good men and
women. So you long to know all you can about your
children.
Child study is a new study. It belongs to our age.
There are many ways of studying children. There is the
scientific way of the university. There is the way of the
teacher who tests and measures the growth of her
pupils. And there is the way of the mother who keeps
all these things and ponders them in her heart. You do
not need any scientific training for this method of study.
You need only the loving, watchful observation of one
who wishes to know the meaning of all that she sees.
This method of observation does not need any special
time, for it goes on all the time. Nothing which concerns
the care and welfare of your children is unimportant.
It is well for a mother to keep a journal or record of
her baby's growth and development. On what day did
the baby first smile? When did the first tooth come?
When did it notice sounds and lift its head? When did
it begin to prattle? What was its first word? WTien did it
notice movement? When did it begin to imitate? When
did your child say, "I want a drink of water," instead
of "Mary wants a drink of water"? Record some of the
bright sayings which you may later like to remember.
Such records may be valuable to other mothers. They
are interesting later to the children who may read the
beginnings of their fife history in the mother's book.
They help us to fix the normal periods of growth and
progress. We all need the inspiration and guidance of
other observers in any field we have chosen for study.
There are many books for mothers. One of the first,
2
THE THOUGHTFUL MOTHER
and the most discerning and helpful of all, is Froebel's
book of Mother Plays. When the book was published
in 1843, it was a novel venture. Friedrich Froebel was a
pioneer in child study. He had no children of his own,
but he played with all the children of his neighborhood
and talked with mothers. He says he learned his secret
from them. His secret was a loving interest in all chil-
dren and a gift for divining what was in a child's heart.
He lived in a quiet country province away from the bus-
tle of great cities. He had time to learn about trees and
flowers and to watch the ways of children. He devoted
his life, his strength, and all his worldly goods, which
were few, to the study of children and to the discovery
of the best means of education. He gave to mothers the
record of his many years of loving observation in his
Mothers' Book. He gave to the world the kindergarten
system which is to-day one of the great means of rebuild-
ing a shattered world. He discovered the "deep meaning
which oft lies hid in childish play." He was not content
with finding the meaning and value of play. He made
songs and plays for mothers to use. He made for the
kindergarten and home use building blocks and balls
and many other play materials which have an educa-
tional value. In his "Mother Play Book" he shows us
by a series of pictures and songs the common, ordinary
events in a child's life which may be clothed in a gar-
ment of play. The children, pictured in this book, do
just what your children do. The baby kicks and plays
in his crib. Boys climb trees, and watch for birds and fly
kites and wade in brooks. The little girl plays with her
doll and runs to the fields and sometimes knits with her
S
TALKS TO MOTHERS
mother. In other books in this series you will find some
of the plays and songs of the kindergarten, and hints
and helps for hand-work. In our talks in this book, let
us try to find some of the lessons which we may learn
from Froebel's mother — the mother who lives with
her children.
First, the mother must have the "understanding
heart." The man, called the wisest of men, asked for
this gift when the choice of all the world's goods was
offered to him. Solomon became wise, because he had an
understanding heart. Do you find your child hard to
understand?, Do you say, "Whatever shall I do with
him?" "What makes him do that?" "John never did
that and Mary was so different." The person who can
most surely follow the thread of life back to his own
childhood is the best guide for children, says Froebel.
May be you will guide yourj child better if you recall
your childhood days. Do you remember the day when
you were unjustly reproved for something you had not
done? Do you remember when you were disgraced be-
fore your playmates? Do you remember when you were
ignored and forgotten in some pleasant plan? Do you
remember broken promises? Do you remember the
nights you wet your pillow with tears for grief over
something you could not tell? When you burned with
anger for some injustice? Were you ever afraid? May
be you were the child who was thrilled to sadness by
the sighing of the wind or certain strains of music.
Do these recollections help you to understand? Do
they make you more careful, less hasty, more just?
Modem psychology is teaching us what we have not
4
THE THOUGHTFUL MOTHER
known fully before. The moods and feelings of cliildhood
become influences for good or ill in later life. Forgotten
fears and terrors of cbildren cause nervous troubles and
strains years after. A harsh father may so terrify a timid
child as to cause serious results ail through life. Many
tragedies of life could be averted if children were better
understood. There would be fewer misfits in life if all
mothers pondered in their hearts the things which con-
cern their children.
Look at the first picture of Froebel's "Mother Play."
See the mother sitting by the brook with her four chil-
dren! She has snatched the hour from her busy day to
be with them as they play. As she watches them she
thinks, "What will each become? What must I do to
guide each one in the best way?"
The four children represent four familiar types. There
is the active, inventive boy, who has rigged up a water-
wheel and placed it in the rapid stream, where it turns
merrily.
Have you such a boy? Do you give him tools and a
chance to use boards and nails? Do you give him a space
on your kitchen floor to run his railroad tracks? Or if
you have it to spare, do you give him a bay-window
for his work-bench, or a work-room?
The other boy is the thinker. He sits quietly by and
watches the play. What will he become? Does he need
books? Do you answer his questions patiently?
There are two Httle girls in this scene. One is bold and
energetic, wading out to try the force of the water. The
other is timid, and sits holding on to the mother's skirts.
What do these two different natures need?
5
TALKS TO MOTHERS
The one must be restrained and guided: the other
must be encouraged and pushed out into active play and
work.
What problems are more important than these? What
task more diflScult? The mother's day is not an eight-
hour day. It is a twenty-four-hour day. She is never free.
No wonder she is tired and impatient sometimes.
What keeps her tender and happy and cheerful? The
understanding heart which sees the promise of the oak
in the acorn, which recognizes the child as father to the
man. Thoughtful mothers, like Mary, ponder their chil-
dren's ways that they may understand them.
Raphael's Sistine Madonna shows us a mother with
the deep look in her eyes which scans the future. In her
gaze we see the hopes and fears of all mankind. In the
child's face is the same long look toward things yet hid-
den and unknown. The artists of the Renaissance loved
to paint pictures of the Madonna and child because they
told of the new hope and faith coming into the world.
They painted one aspect only of mother love. To-day
we would show the beauty of all the little daily services
a mother renders her children.
II
TVTHOSE CHILD IS IT?
"Good Christian people, here lies for you an invaluable Loan;
take all heed thereof, in all carefulness employ it : with high recom-
pense, or else with heavy penalty, will it one day be requu-ed back."
Cablyle, Sartor Resartus
A WOMAN was walking through a city park drag-
ing along with her a tearful boy. The woman was
tall and could take long strides. The boy was short and
small and took little steps. The little boy was crying
from exhaustion and pain, but the woman paid no atten-
tion. A policeman, believing her to be the child's nurse,
went up to her and said, "What is your name, and the
boy's name.f^ I shall report you to your employer. You
are abusing the child."
"It does n't concern you what my name is," was the
reply. "The boy's my otvti and I shall do what I Hke
with him."
At another time I saw a woman dining in a railroad
car with her little boy. The child was tired and fretful.
He had made various requests which were unheeded and
finally began to cry. The mother then rose angrily and
gave the boy a smart box on the ear. This brought loud
cries. All the passengers in the car were aroused to in-
dignation. A fellow traveler sitting across the way
said, "That mother does not know that she may injure
the child for life by such a blow. Some one ought to
tell her. I am going to do it."
7
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Better mind your own business," said her husband,
" * BuUers-in' never get any thanks — "
"It is my business," said the woman — "injustice to
a child is everybody's business."
So, as the mother and weeping boy hastily passed out,
the friendly observer detained her to say, " Do you know
that your child may be made deaf by such a blow? You
do not wish to injure him. I thought I ought to tell you
of the serious consequences of striking a child about the
head."
And this mother replied, "The child's mine — it's
nobody's business what I do to him."
Is this true? Whose child is it? To whom is the mother
responsible? In a chapter in "Sartor Resartus," Carlyle
pictures the gift of a child to a humble man, Andreas,
and Gretchen, his wife. A mysterious stranger brings the
sleeping baby in a silken-covered basket into the room
where the simple, friendly man and wife are sitting. As
he deposits the basket, he says, "Good Christian people,
here lies for you an invaluable Loan: take all heed
thereof, in all carefulness employ it: with high recom-
pense, or else with heavy penalty, will it one day be
required back."
Andreas and Gretchen accept the child as a sacred
trust. The story goes on to tell us how they surrounded
the little one with every good influence. The little boy
ate his supper on the orchard wall where he could spell
out the letters of the story Mother Nature was telling
him. He looked with wonder at the winding Entepfuhl
road, at the starry heavens, and the beauties of field and
meadow spread about him.
8
WHOSE CHILD IS IT?
Mother Gretchen taught him of the good God who
rules in heaven and on earth. Andreas told him stories
of brave deeds in war and fostered the spirit of patriot-
ism. The old men in the village square filled his imagina-
tion with stories and legends, which made history real
to him, and created for him a great world beyond the
village scenes. So the boy grew, blessed by loving affec-
tion, and the kindly atmosphere of a good home and
the wholesome influence of a simple, happy, out-of-door
life.
Carlyle's story is a parable. Every child born in any
home is a sacred trust, given to that family to rear, to
cherish, to nurture. The child is not the mother's to do
with as she pleases. She is responsible to the child, to the
State, to God, for her guardianship of the life committed
to her keeping.
"With great recompense of reward," or with the pen-
alty of neglect it w^ll one day be required of her. She is
a trustee for the State. She must give the State a good,
law-abiding citizen as her share in the universal good of
the community which provides for the common welfare.
To the child to whom she gives life, she owes the chance
for the best life possible. The helpless child whom she
brings into the world depends on her for the care and
training which make the gift of life either a curse or a
blessing.
"To be or not to be?" is a question not decided by
the individual. His parents decide for him and take the
tremendous responsibility of his existence.
Shall it be a healthy child?
Shall it be a beautiful child?
9
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Shall it be a loving child?
Shall it be a happy child?
Shall it be a good child?
Shall it be a strong child?
The mother largely decides the answer to these qucsK
tions.
The woman's highest responsibility is to the great
source of all life, which so wonderfully makes her a part
of the great process of creation. Every woman conse-
crated to the great office is like Mary of old, "blessed
among women." She receives the child as a trust from
the hands of God.
Do we have so many Dorothys, Dorotheas, and
Theodores because so many parents believe their chil-
dren to be "gifts of God"? That is what these names
mean.
John, Mary, Paul, and Elizabeth and other names are
favorites because the associations of these names sug-
gest what we wish our child to be. The family names are
handed on with the hope that the good tradition of the
name will be perpetuated.
Whose child is it? The child of the family, the child
of man, the child of God.
This is what Theodore Roosevelt says about the
training of children:
the destiny of the wobld in
mother's keeping
"Into the woman's keeping is committed the destiny
of the generations to come after us. In bringing up your
children you mothers must remember that while it is
10
WHOSE CHILD IS IT?
essential to be loving and tender it is no less essential
to be wise and firm. Foolishness and affection must not
be treated as interchangeable terms, and besides train-
ing your sons and daughters in the softer and milder
virtues you must seek to give them those stern and
hardy qualities which in after life they will surely need.
"The way to give a child a fair chance in life is not
to bring it up in luxury, but to see that it has the kind
of training that will give it strength of character. Even
apart from the vital question of national life, and re-
garding only the individual interest of the children
themselves, happiness in the true sense is a hundred-
fold more apt to come to any given member of a healthy
family of healthy-minded children, well brought up,
well educated, but taught that they must shift for them-
selves, must win their own way, and by their o-rti exer-
tions make their own positions of usefulness, than it is
apt to come to those whose parents themselves have
acted on, and have trained their children to action, the
selfish and sordid theory that the whole end of life is
*to taste a few good things.'
"To sum up, then, the whole matter is simple enough.
If either a race or an individual prefers the pleasures of
mere effortless ease, of self-indulgence, to the infinitely
deeper, the infinitely higher pleasures that come to those
who know the toil and the weariness, but also the joy,
of hard duty well done, why, that race or that individual
must inevitably in the end pay the penalty of leading a
life both vapid and ignoble. No man and no woman really
worthy of the name can care for the life spent solely or
ghiefly in the avoidance of risk and trouble and labor.
11
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Save in exceptional cases the prizes worth having in life
must be paid for, and the life worth living must be a
life of work for a worthy end, and ordinarily of work
more for others than for one's self."
Ill
THE SOUL OF A CHILD
"Who is there among you, if his son
ask bread, will he give him a stone?"
DID you share in the Child-welfare campaign in
1918? At the beginning of the year we were send-
ing our sons and brothers and husbands to join in the
Great War to make the world a safe place for little chil-
dren to live in. The homes and the mothers must keep
it a safe place. The strength of a nation is the health of
a nation, and the health of a nation depends on good
babies. During Children's Year babies in every city and
town were weighed and measured. Mothers were told
how to feed and clothe their children. They were told
of the need of fresh air and open windows at night. They
learned the need of pure milk. They learned the impor-
tance of regular hours of feeding. They found out how
dangerous it is to give solid food to a baby. We know
now that we can measure a baby's good condition by its
increase in weight, so we must watch for the proper gain
in size and weight. You know that your first care is to
secure a sound body for your child. Do not forget, how-
ever, its other needs. Your child can love and think.
You must give it, not only bread for its little body, but
the bread of life. During Children's Year, a Children's
Cottage was established on Boston Common. The house
was open daily to mothers and other visitors. Nurses
and teachers were in attendance to answer questions
13
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and give information. Charts and diagrams were hung
on the walls to show food values, to show how to keep
the milk and other foods safe and clean. A doll was
used to teach mothers how to bathe and dress a baby.
Nurses gave demonstrations of the best treatment of a
sick child.
All this was to secure good health and growth.
One member of the Committee insisted that to this
exhibit another should be added, which should show
other needs of children. She thought of the playing
child, of the busy child, of the singing child, of the
artist child, and of the learning child.
Another exhibit was installed. You could name some
of the things in this exhibit. There were well-chosen
story-books, picture-books, song-books, home-made
toys, carefully selected playthings, seeds, garden-tools,
sand and shovels. Pictures were hung on the wall to
show the plays and occupations of children in a good
home.
It was difficult, however, to interest the average visitor
in these things as much as in the food and clothing.
Mothers can see when a child is hungry. He tells us his
wants. But the starved soul makes no cry. Do you some-
times stop to think of these other needs of your children?
A weak, undeveloped body excites our sympathy; but
what do we know of the dwarfed mind and the longing
heart?
In an early book, Froebel says: "It takes very little
trouble for those around to supply what childhood
needs. Rich is the inner life of a child, and we see it
not; intense is its life, and we feel it not. Failing to nur
14
THE SOUL OF A CHILD
ture and develop the inner germs of a child's life, we let
it sink discouraged under the burden of its own endeavor
and grow dull, for it breaks loose at some weak point,
and then we see wrong inclinations and impulses in the
child, like morbid outgrowths of a plant. We should be
glad now to direct the growth otherwise, but it is too
late. The infant life that y> e should have led on naturally
to boyhood, we misunderstood and repressed.'*
In "Richard Baldock," Archibald Marshall has drawn
a pathetic sketch of a neglected child. Richard's mother
died at his birth, and the boy was left in the charge of a
harsh father and a stern nurse. "If he grazed his knees
she did bind them up, although she allowed his lacerated
spirit to heal of itself. . . . His everyday wants were
attended to. In fact he was cared for, and if he was cared
for, as has been said, without tenderness, not knowing
what tenderness could be, he did not greatly miss it."
Richard's father took little notice of him, and when he
did, it was to correct him, "so that the child's dawning
knowledge of his father, if he could have analyzed it,
would have been of a man who existed chiefly for the
purpose of saying, 'Thou shalt not.'"
By way of contrast, Mr. Marshall gives a beautiful
picture of a happy child. He says: "It is a pleasant thing
to think of the first steps along the pathway of life taken
by the child of good and happy parents. He is lapped
round by love and knows nothing of any other char-
acteristic of humanity. The world he has come to must
be very like the world he has left. Neither of them con-
tains for him selfishness, anger, cruelty, or any of the
evil passions of humanity, for with all our faults on our
15
TALKS TO MOTHERS
heads, we show him nothing of our nature that is not
godlike. He sets out upon his journey through a country
empty of danger or darkness, its air warm and kindly,
its meadows smiling with flowers, protected on every
hand, but knowing not the need of protection, and so
fearlessly drawing on the measureless stores of love
around him."
Would you like your child to live in such a happy,
loving world.? You create it for him. You make sunshine
for his path.
He is like a plant, which needs sunshine and care for
its right growth. Nurture is a finer art than training or
instruction. Nurture means taking care. It means sup-
plying the right atmosphere. All the world your child
knows is his home. From that he forms his ideas of the
great world. Shall it be a good world, full of love and
beauty? You can create such a world in your home.
Babies reared in an institution are well cared for
physically. Their little bodies are kept warm. They are
properly fed. They have good beds and sunny rooms.
They are put on a regular schedule for feeding and sleep-
ing. All bodily needs are supplied. But these babies do
not, as a rule, thrive as well as babies in an ordinary
home. They do not gain in intelligence as rapidly as
babies cared for by loving mothers.
What is the reason? They lack nurturing, loving care.
No one sings to them. No one speaks mother talk to
them. There is no lullaby and no mother play. Some-
thing within the baby answers the mother's smile and
the loving tone of the mother's voice. Mother talk and
prattle arouse slumbering f eehngs and awaken dawning
16
THE SOUL OF A CHILD
perceptions of self and the world around. It matters not
whether the baby has the most up-to-date nursery, or
lies in a cradle in a kitchen, he responds to the same call
of life. Much handling and fondling of infants is harm-
ful. Fond grandmothers and aunts should keep hands
off, most of the time. But the "let-alone" treatment
which dooms a child to constant solitude is most harm-
ful. It denies the mothering which Nature ordains for
all her young. The baby is a social being. He was not
meant to be alone.
A "mother's helper'* came to me once with a sad tale
of two children recently placed in her charge. These
children were in a wealthy home. They had been in the
care of a trained nurse who was forced to follow the
scientific method of treatment. The children were never
touched. The cause of their cries was never sought. The
nurse fled to the kitchen to escape them. As a conse-
quence, the little ones did not thrive. They were peevish
and cross. At last the mother discovered that something
was wrong. She thought maybe they needed playthings.
She sent to consult a teacher as to the child's real needs.
Not playthings, so much as loving care, was what those
children needed. A happy spirit helps to build a strong
body.
The busy mother must often leave her baby alone.
It is well that it should be so. The child must learn to
"command neither persons nor things by his cries."
The normal, well baby should have long periods of rest,
undisturbed and untouched. But there should be some
one ready to give him companionship and love when the
time comes. To these he responds with the trustful
17
TALKS TO MOTHERS
confidence and the answering smile which make the
beginning of all human relationships. The bond between
mother and child is the first link in the chain which binds
together the whole human family.
IV
THE HEALTHY CHD^D
"Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy and wealthy and wise.'*
IT was Christmas Eve, and Percy was allowed to sit
up until eight o'clock to share in the Christmas
party. Percy was "half -past four," and he confided to
me the pleasant fact that it was his first party, and if
he told me that there was to be ice-cream, he would be
sent to bed. It was a gay party, and Percy enjoyed it
all, especially the ice-cream.
Eight o'clock came, and Mother came to take Percy
to bed.
He demurred. "Just a little longer," he begged. "I am
not sleepy now." But Mother was firm.
"Do you wear the pink pajamas you told me about?"
I said. "I should Hke to see you in them."
"I'll show them to you," he said. "But I'm not going
to put them on yet."
However, the gay scene was left and Percy mounted
the stairs and soon stood by his crib in the pink pa-
jamas. Then he climbed into the crib to show me that he
was as long as the crib and must soon have a big bed.
All the time he protested that he was not to stay; but
when he stretched out in the cool, soft bed, he felt so
comfortable and so tired that in a moment he was
asleep.
19
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Percy's first party had no ill results because his
mother kept firmly to the reasonable hour Gxed for his
departure. He knew all the time that no protests would
be heeded.
One summer night I attended a concert given in the
Town Hall of a country village. It was a community
event. Everybody came and brought all the children.
Many babies were there in their mothers' arms. After
the concert there was dancing. At ten o'clock the babies
were all wide-awake. Some were crying, but no one was
ready to leave. I am sure the mothers paid a high price
for their pleasure. There must have been many fretful,
crying children the next day.
Regularity is one of the first laws of health. "Early
to bed" helps to make a child healthy. We can sympa-
thize with the child whose plaint Stevenson has voiced!
"And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue.
And I should like so much to play.
To have to go to bed by day .5*"
It does seem hard. Sometimes too tender mothers
yield to a child's plea and say, "Well, just ten minutes
more." The ten minutes often grow to twenty. The child
becomes overtired and excited. There are tears and cries
when the final decree comes, and a nervous child is put
to bed, to whom sleep will not immediately come. Con-
tinuance of such indulgence results in a nervous, high-
strung child, trying to his family and more trying to
friends and relatives, who call him naughty and dis-
agreeable. Regular and long hours of sleep are more im-
portant than any other one factor in a child's growth.
20
THE HEALTHY CHH^D
Experiments made on dogs and kittens have proved
that loss of sleep is more fatal to a creature than lack
of food. No late supper, no press of work, no engage-
ment should interfere with putting a child to bed at the
appointed time. Up to six years of age, six o'clock is a
good bedtime hour. A seven-year-old child may sit up till
seven and an eight-year-old till eight. If the mother is
"constant as the northern star " and there is no varia-
tion "nor shadow of turning " there will never be fric-
tion nor complaints. A baby may be trained to look
forward to his cool, quiet crib and to enjoy the restful
feeling of the darkened room.
If a child goes quietly to bed with maybe a quiet talk
or a soothing lullaby there is peaceful, restful sleep.
Such a child wakens at a regular time rested and re-
freshed and ready for a happy day. Mothers should also
arrange a regular time for a baby's nap. Every child up
to the age of five or six should rest for an hour or two
during the day. The older child may not sleep, but he
can rest and relax upon his bed and so keep his temper
calm and sweet.
In the congested quarters of our great cities we often
see boys and girls and little children playing on the
streets until late in the evening. There is no one to call
them home. No one to put them to bed. Often, alas,
there is no real home to which to go. WTiat do these chil-
dren lose? Health, strength, growth, and innocence.
Excitable, nervous, lacking control, they become the
victims of all kinds of evil influences.
Have you ever noticed children at the "movies"?
Their eyes are bright, their cheeks are flushed, they are
21
TALKS TO MOTHERS
living at a high tension during the hours they should be
sleeping. What is the price paid for these evenings of
entertainment? Lack of nerve-control, lack of nerve-
force, an undermined constitution, and the need of more
and more excitement.
"Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy — "
It also makes him "wealthy and wise" because it en-
ables him to safeguard his strength and to control his
powers for the serious business of life. A child that is
trained to early and regular hours is trained in the way
he should go. When he is old he will not depart from it.
"Every night my prayers I say.
And get my dinner every day;
And every day that I 've been good,
I get an orange after food."
Robert Louis Stevenson
Regular hours for meals are important as well as regu-
lar hours for sleep. A growing child needs simple food at
meal-times with possibly a piece of bread and butter or
a glass of milk at eleven o'clock when there has been
a light breakfast. The habit of running to the cooky-jar
at any time during the day for a cake or a cooky is very
unwise. Lollipops or other sweets should be eaten only
after meals and then with moderation. Dr. Woods
Hutchinson^ gives some wise advice about choice of
foods :
"Some people like one thing, and some another. Do
all of you like onions? I think not; but those who do, like
them very much. The same thing is true of tomatoes and
In A Child's Day.
SH
HK"! ''^^^^^^^^^^^Ki
Im
■9
ijfe'^^te^■
w
From a Copleij i>rint, Comiright by Curtis 3f Cameron, I'ubtt.-'/ic
SUPPER
THE HEALTHY CHILD
tweet potatoes and red raspberries and oysters and
many other things. But there are some things that
almost everybody Hkes; and our grandfathers and great-
grandfathers and great-great-grandfathers ate them.
One of them is called the * staff of life ' because we lean,
or depend, on it so much; we have it for breakfast, din-
ner, and supper. That is bread, of course. Meat and eggs
and milk and butter, too, are among the foods that we
all like.
"These might be called our *main foods,' and we
should eat one or two or even three of them at each
meal. Meat and milk and eggs and butter, animals give
us. But these are not enough; we need besides some of
the foods that plants give us, because, we need different
kinds of food at one time to keep the body fires going
briskly.
"What are some of the foods that plants give us?
Bread is made from a plant — from wheat. Oatmeal
comes from the oat plant; and hominy, from corn. Some
of our plant foods, such as potatoes, turnips, onions,
sweet potatoes, parsnips, and radishes, grow under
ground. Some, such as peas and beans, grow on vines.
Then there are lettuce and cabbage and celery. And
there are fruits — cherries, apples, peaches, plums,
pears, melons, tomatoes, berries.
"Nature has given us all these foods, and many more;
and she wants us to use them all. She wants us to use,
every day and every meal, some foods that come from
plants and some that come from animals.
"A good dinner would be a slice of roast beef or mut-
ton, a potato, a helping of some sort of vegetable like
TALKS TO MOTHERS
peas or beans or onions or tomatoes or celery; and a dish
of milk pudding or apple dumpling, or stewed fruit with
bread and butter, or pie that has only an upper crust or
its under crust very well baked. When you are eating
bread, remember that the crusts are the very best part,
because they are well cooked and really taste the best.
They are good for your teeth, too.
"Perhaps, while I am talking about a good meal,
I ought to talk a httle about the way to eat and how to
make mealtime pleasant.
"Of course, to make our food soft, we must take little
bites, eat slowly, and chew each mouthful a long time.
Be sure to remember this. So many of the children I
know eat so fast that you 'd think they had to catch a
train ! Did you ever see any one try to talk and chew at
the same time or forget to shut his mouth while he was
chewing? Was n't it a very awkward, disagreeable sight. ^^
Think a moment, if you are tempted to talk with your
mouth full, or put your knife into your mouth, or make
a noise while you are eating, that these things are not
pleasant for your neighbors.
"Do you tell funny stories at the table and talk about
happy tramps you have taken or games you have played,
or about your pets or your books? If you do, your food
will do you more good, and you will be helping the other
people at the table, too. Mealtimes should be the happi-
est times in the day."
"Make the house, where gods may dwell.
Beautiful, entire and clean."
The poet Longfellow in these lines speaks of the body
as a house. It should be kept beautiful and clean because
U
THE HEALTHY CHILD
it is the place where the spirit lives. It should be fit for
gods to dwell in. Saint Paul calls it the temple of God.
One of the textbooks of physiology is called "The House
Beautiful." Dr. Woods Hutchinson ^ writes of the body
in this way :
"Often we think of the body as a beautiful house.
Now a house does not look very beautiful when it has
dust and crumbs on the floor, buckets of greasy dish-
water in the kitchen, and smoke from the furnace in the
air! You could not live in such a place. No, the smoke
must go out up the chimney, the dust and crumbs must
be swept away, the dirty water must be drained off in
pipes; the house must be not only cleaned, but kept
clean all the time. This is true of your body, too.
"Now Mother Nature sends the smoke from the body
out through the lungs, and the crumbs and sohd dirt
down and out by means of the food tube. But the waste
water — how does she get rid of that.^ The waste water,
you remember, is in the blood vessels, mixed with the
blood. How does she get it out of the blood? She sends it
through three magic cleaners, or strainers, — the skin,
the liver, the kidneys.
"That the skin is a strainer, you already know; for
you know how the skin lets out the waste water in per-
spiration, or sweat, and how important it is that we
keep the little holes of the strainer open and clean. And
you know, too, that most of the water that passes out of
the body goes first to the kidneys.
"The liver, however, is the largest cleaning machine
of all and has to work very hard. The blood comes to it
1 In A Child's Day.
25
TALKS TO MOTHERS
full of foods and poisons. This wonderful cleaner picks
out the food it needs and takes up many of the poisons,
too. *What does it do with the poisons?' you ask. Some
of them it changes into good food, and others it makes
harmless and sends away down the food tube in a fluid
called bile. If we are strong and healthy, the liver has
the power to kill many of the disease germs that get into
the body. That is why sometimes, when you have had
a chance to take mumps or grippe or some other * catch-
ing' disease, you don't take it. Your liver kills the
germs, or seeds. See how carefully Mother Nature has
planned that we may be clean inside as well as out-
side.
"But you must not overwork your liver. If you do, it
may become too tired to do anything at all. Then all
these poisons will spread through the body; the skin and
the whites of the eyes will grow yellow, and you will be
what is called *biHous.' When this happens the poisons
go to your brain, too, and make you feel sad; you/
tongue looks white instead of pink, and you have a dis-
agreeable taste in your mouth. Your happiness depend?
very much on your liver.
" *How shall I keep my liver rested and in good work'
ing order? ' By eating only sound, wholesome, pure food;
and avoiding dirty milk; by going to the toilet regularly
every morning after breakfast; by keeping your win-
dows open and avoiding the poisons and disease germs
in foul air. Then, if you run and play and work out of
doors, so that the muscles move a great deal and you
breathe in plenty of oxygen to keep the body fires burn-
ing briskly, that will help a great deal.
THE HEALTHY CHILD
"K you eat proper food, you help not only your
stomach but your Hver, too; for it has not so many
poisons to get rid of. While you are helping your stom-
ach and your liver, you are helping your heart and
your brain, and so on. So what you do to help one
helps all."
"Cleanliness is next to godliness," so runs the old
adage. We know more about cleanliness to-day than our
grandmothers did. We know how much harm may come
from impure water'or milk and from tainted food. We
know that meats and vegetables should not be exposed
in public markets without proper protection from flies
and dust. We know that fruit bought from the open
push-carts on the streets or from open markets should
be carefully washed before using. *'Swat the fly!" has
become a slogan in every household.
We used to say a little rhyme to baby :
"Baby-by, here's a fly.
We will watch him, you and I."
We watch him now. We admire his ready eyes, which
give warning when anything approaches him. We wonder
at the tiny feet with which he clings to the ceiling. But
we know that those little feet are covered with disease
germs. If the fly lights on our open sugar-bowl, or on our
plate of cake, he may leave some dangerous germs
which will cause typhoid or other sickness. The legs of
the fly are covered with tiny hairs which carry the dis-
ease germs until they are rubbed off on our food or some-
times on our skin. So you see screens are necessary and
covers for food in the pantry and when placed on the
table.
27
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Good-morning, glorious sun!
How I love the light of the sun!
God sends the bright spring sun
To melt the ice and snow.
To start the green leaf -buds
And make the flowers grow."
This is one of our kindergarten songs. Sunlight makes
the flowers grow. It makes children grow too. A plant
kept in a cellar or dark room grows yellow and sickly.
It dies if it is not put in the light. Children, too, grow
pale and weak if they are deprived of sunlight. The chil-
dren who must live in basements and court-rooms in our
crowded "slums" can never be strong and healthy. The
more sunlight and the more fresh air, the safer and
healthier the house. People who build high on hills, with
plenty of windows, are wise builders. They know that
sunlight is a purifier and a healer. The mother who keeps
her blinds shut and her curtains down, in order not to
fade her carpet and furniture, is making her furniture
more important than the health of her family. Let us
have faded carpets and rosy children rather than rosy
carpets and faded children, and do not be afraid of fresh
air by day or by night.
Our grandmothers were sometimes afraid of the night
air. But it is all the air there is, so let us take all we need
of it. Cold fresh air is better than cold bad air. Let in
God's sunlight and God's good air and let out the poison
from our breaths and the dust from our rooms. Open
windows, now and then, from top to bottom to air the
room. And at night be sure the children have an open
window and breathe fresh air during the long hours of
sleep.
28
THE HEALTHY CHILD
"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber.
Holy angels guard thy bed."
This is the old lullaby. The child who has had a happy
day with simple food, sunlight, and good air, and proper
work and play, will slumber well. The angels of good-
health and good- will guard his bed.
V
THE FIVE SENSES
"What hears is mind: What sees is mind:
The ear and eye are deaf and blind."
AN Indian passing through a forest will find his way
by marks or blazes on the trees which an ordinary
man would not observe. The Indian will also tell of the
recent passage of a deer or some other animal by a bent
bough or a broken branch. A small band of Indians was
sent to France in the Great War for scout purposes be-
cause they were so keen of vision and so quick to hear.
A sailor at sea will tell of the approach of another vessel
by certain signs unnoticed by the passenger on the same
ship. The conductor of an orchestra is able to follow the
tones of all the many instruments. He knows when a
violin falls below pitch or a flute fails to come in at the
right second. His ear is trained to listen to tone and
pitch. A tea-taster can tell you the brand of any kind of
tea he sips and its price. The molasses dealer puts a drop
of syrup on his tongue and tells its grade instantly.
The eye of the Indian or of the sailor is like any other
eye. They have trained themselves to attend to certain
things in which they are interested and to interpret
appearances. The musician has no different ear from
yours and mine. He has only learned how to listen. The
senses are trained by use. The clerk who sells ribbons
learns to match shades by constant practice and careful
attention to tints and tones of color.
30
THE FIVE SENSES
Sense-training begins in the home when the baby
learns to notice his sensations and to fix his attention on
them. Taste is the most active sense in infancy. It is so
strong that baby wishes to put everything in his mouth.
A shoe, a handkerchief, a spoon or a rattle, all are tested
in the same way — by the sense of taste. A mother may
train her child to discriminate. She gives him sweet and
sour. She says, "Good, good!" for the sweet, or she
puckers her mouth over the acid. Baby does the same.
She gives a taste of bitter, perhaps a bitter medicine,
saying, "Good for baby. Try it." Discrimination is the
first step in knowledge, because it means attention.
Baby learns from what secures his attention. Because
the sense of taste is so keen there is danger of over-
indulgence. Children like sweet and like much of it.
Self-control may be gained through limiting the desire
for too much. This is the beginning of temperance. Too
much food, too much sweet, too highly seasoned dishes,
all of these are harmful and lead to ungoverned desires.
I once knew a father who made a Welsh rarebit every
Sunday night for supper. He gave a plateful of this rich
dish to the children, four, six, and seven years old.
When some one pointed out to him the harmful effects,
he answered: "I like rarebit and I eat it. My children
like it and they shall eat it." He might as well have
argued: "I walk five miles a day and like it. My children
like to walk. They shall walk five miles a day."
Sauces and condiments unduly excite the sense of
taste. They spoil the natural appetite and lead to later
excess in food and drink. Tea and coffee are stimulants
most injurious to children. Older persons whose tissues
31
TALKS TO MOTHERS
waste more rapidly than repairs can be made may need
such stimulus; but growing children are over-stimulated
and excited by them. Growth is arrested and nerve-
force depleted.
THE SENSE OF SMELL
The sense of smell is also very active in babyhood. See
how a baby buries his nose in the carnation, or in the
rose or in sweet peas ! How he sniffs the sweet perfume !
Here again there is an opportunity for a lesson in con-
trol. Lilacs make a pleasant odor in the room: but too
many load the air with perfume and cause headache.
A few lilies are agreeable in a parlor or in the church; but
too many cause a heavy, sickening odor. Enough of the
sweet and pleasant — not too much — is the lesson we
learn.
It is well for children to distinguish odors, and so to
transfer interest from physical enjoyment to a real per-
ception of the same. In the kindergarten we have a play
for this purpose. We sing or say :
"Oh, lovely, fragrant flower.
Pray come and join our game.
And to our little playmate
Tell softly now your name."
The child whose eyes are covered smells the flower, —
violet, rose or lily and whispers its name.
SENSE OF TOUCH
The sense of touch is exercised in many ways in the or-
dinary course of handling objects and materials. Chil-
dren Uke to feel velvet, satin, and silk. They touch stems
THE FIVE SENSES
of plants and classify them as hairy, sticky, or smooth.
They pass their hands over leaves and call them smooth
or rough. I saw a little boy recently in a Montessori
school pass his hand again and again over the strips of
sand-paper pasted on a board; then he rubbed his hand
on the smooth board. Apparently he was gaining pleas-
ant sensations from the contrast of rough and smooth.
In an ordinary home environment, children get ample
opportunity for touching and handHng things. They play
with sand and clay and dough. They feel the bark of
trees, the smoothness of wood and the surface of shining
plates and cups and the many objects handled during
the day. A very slight suggestion on the part of the
mother makes them attentive to the "feel" of different
substances.
SENSE OF HEARING
Have you ever watched a baby as he listens to a sudden
sound — a voice in an adjoining room, a note on the
piano, or the song of a bird in the tree outside? The baby
is alert and keen. He turns his head to try and locate the
source of the sound. He is beginning to listen. Later we
have various games for the sense of hearing. Do you re-
member the game of "Magic Music" which you played
in your childhood? You listened to the piano to help
you to locate a hidden object. The music was soft when
you were "cold" and loud when you were "warm."
Another familiar play is "Dog and Bone." A child, who
is blindfolded, sits in a chair behind which a clothes-pin
or stick has been placed for a bone. Another child creeps
up carefully to the chair to get the bone. The listening
33
TALKS TO MOTHERS
child calls "Bow-wow,'* as soon as he hears a sound.
This is a very good way to secure attentive listening.
" Who Calls Me? " is a play which trains the ear to listen
for voices. One child is blinded and says, "Who calls
me? " Other players call the name and the listening child
must tell who calls. Blind persons are very expert in
recognizing voices. They have trained themselves to
listen from the need of repairing the loss of one sense by
the added usefulness of another. A blind woman once
told me that she could read the character of a stranger by
listening to the voice. She said she was never deceived.
Children like to make various experiments for testing
the sense of hearing. They make "musical glasses" by
filling tumblers with water at different heights. The
finger moved around the edges of the glass produces
musical tones, varying in pitch according to the amount
of water in the tumbler. Spoons, suspended on strings of
varying lengths, when struck against a hard substance,
give musical tones. It is a good exercise to connect the
tone with the length of the string. Is the string long or
short? Is the tone high or low? Satisfactory drums may be
made by putting brown paper ends on cardboard cylin-
ders. The drums are of various sizes. How do they sound?
"There's a merry brown thrush
Sitting up in a tree;
He is singing to you, he is singing to me.
And what does he say.
Little girl, little boy?
Oh, the world's running over with joy.
Don't you hear, don't you see?
Hush, look here in my tree;
Oh, I am as happy as happy can be."
34
THE FIVE SENSES
The country child has a great advantage over the city
child in the matter of sense-training. The sounds he
hears are the song of the brook that chatters as it goes to
join the brimming river, the song of the thrush, or the
song that the bluebird is singing. He hears
"The wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies."
He listens to the chorus of insects chirping the fare-
well to dying summer.
Do your children listen to all these songs? Can they
distinguish the different bird notes? Do they try to imi-
tate them?
Is it not a great help to happiness to grow up, listening
to a thrush who tells us that the world 's running over
with joy?
Are your children learning to listen to directions and
commands?
"What hears is mind." How often a person asks a
direction and straightway forgets whether it is the first
or second turn, or whether one goes right or left. The
words have been heard; but the mind has not heard.
The person has not really learned to listen.
You can help your children to listen by making it a
practice not to repeat a direction or command. If you
say the same thing over two or three times a child will
depend on getting a second chance to hear. You send a
child up>stairs to bring your veil — he stops on the way
to say — "Where did you say it was?" Why? He had
not listened the first time. The Great Teacher con-
demned certain persons because "having eyes, they see
not, and having ears, they hear not." They hear words,
35
TALKS TO MOTHERS
but do not really listen. They do not think of the mean-
ing of the words. Children should gain in the home the
habit of listening as they hear. Dull ears lose much of
the sound and melody of the world in which we live.
THE SENSE OF SIGHT
"The eye it cannot choose but see." Most of our first
knowledge of the world comes from the sense of sight.
Think of what baby learns in a day ! He is learning the
forms and uses of various articles of furniture. He is
learning color. He sees many things, bright and shining,
dull and dark, big and little. He gradually attaches
names to them and begins his mastery of the world.
A Frenchman has written of "A Voyage Around my
Room." He points out how much knowledge a child
gains by looking about his one little room. Outside there
is the great world of nature, trees, flowers, birds, stars
and the sun! It is "a wonderful, beautiful world."
Happy those who have eyes and see! But eyes are
trained for seeing as ears are trained for hearing. There
is an old story of "Eyes and No Eyes." Two men went
out together to walk through a field and wood. When
they returned their friends asked what had been seen.
"Oh," said the first man in a dull tone, "I saw only
trees and grass and moss and ferns and a brook."
"What a dull time you had!" said his friends. "And
what did you see?" they asked the second man. "Oh,"
he said in a joyful tone, "I saw waving grass and lovely
ferns and soft green moss and splendid beech trees and
oak trees, and a running brook." "How I wish we had
gone with you!" said his friends. The difference was not
36
THE FIVE SENSES
in the ferns and moss, nor in the eyes; but in the mind.
One man only looked; the other saw.
When your children have been out in the woods or
have walked to town, do you ask them to tell you what
they have seen? Do you play "Observation Games" in
your house? A good one is to put corn, beans, peas, and
other things on a tray and let the children look for a
moment and then tell how many objects they have seen.
In the kindergarten we place colored balls in a row, and,
while a child's eyes are covered, remove one or two. The
child is to tell which are gone. Another time sticks may
be placed in groups of two or three or four. The game is
to tell how many have been taken away. Matching col-
ors is a fine game. What is red? What is blue? How many
yellow things in the room? How many green things
when you look out of the window?
Children must also know form, in order to get an-
other key to the world. What is square? W^hat is round?
Cut square mats and round mats. Sort buttons accord-
ing to shape, and arrange pieces from the rag-bag ac-
cording to color. Notice the leaves of the maple, oak,
and elm. Can your children name all the trees in your
vicinity? By what marks do they tell them?
"Oh, maple leaf, have you fingers?"
And the maple leaf said in glee,
"Yes, just as many as you have;
Count them and you will see."
Rhymes Hke this will help children in their observa-
tion.
"And sure, if eyes were made for seeing.
Then beauty is its own excuse for being.**
37
TALKS TO MOTHERS
An artist's eye sees color in a country road where the
ordinary eye sees only dust and dirt. An artist sees lovely
purple shadows under the beeches where most of us see
only darkness. The poet sees in a tree what Joyce Kilmer
saw:
"A tree that looks at God all day.
And lifts her leafy arm to pray;
"A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair."
We make our own worlds largely by what we see and
hear. "He hath made everything beautiful in his time.*'
The seeing eye finds the beauty. The story of Creation
tells us that God saw all that He had made, and "lo,
it was very good." Can there be any better training than
that which makes one see that the world is good, and
that everything is beautiful to him, who sees?
VI
CHILD PLAY
'* Happy hearts and happy faces,
Happy play in grassy places —
That was how, in ancient ages.
Children grew to kings and sages."
R. L. Stevenson
THREE children in a country village were standing
around a little express cart. The boy had his hand
on the tongue of the cart, but he was not moving it.
"Are you playing expressman.'^" I asked.
"No/* he answered with a wondering look.
"What are you playing?"
"Playing nothing," was the true answer.
Later I saw the children coast down the hill on the
cart and then drag it wearily home.
Near by was a brook and a waterfall. There were rocks
near the stream, and a green wood beyond filled with
ferns and moss. There was every incentiv^e to play. A
toy wheel would turn merrily in the stream. A bridge
could be made. The rocks invited housekeeping plays
and the woods lured to hiding plays. But these country
children went into the house on a summer's morning and
the door was shut. They did not know how to play. They
had no play interests because no one had ever played
with them.
The father, who was devoted to them, was a busy
blacksmith, and the mother had died when the youngest
39
TALKS TO MOTHERS
was born. They were sent to the village school when it
was in session for six hours a day. No one knew that
they were missing the best part of their education to be
gained in play. They had lost their true world — the
world of play. The Congressman was wrong who voted
against a playground for the children of Washington,
for the reason that children did not need to be taught
to play any more than a fish needs to be taught to swim.
Every child has a right to a place to play and to some
guidance and suggestion in his play. The mother cat
plays with her kittens and the mother dog with her
puppies. The natural mother, guided by instinct, plays
with her child. The wise mother adds to her instinct all
the knowledge she can gain of children's ways and makes
herseK a true companion and playmate of her children.
No special time is set apart for these plays of mother
and child. They are the natural accompaniment of the
mother's ordinary duties. The baby who has just been
laid in his crib after his bath begins his "play of the
limbs." He kicks and stretches and follows Nature's
method of gaining muscular strength.
The mother's hands and the mother's song add zest
to the play — and more exercise is gained. Soon, how-
ever, the baby makes the acquaintance of his hands and
feet. This is the moment for "This little pig went to
market," "Pat-a-Cake," and such rhymes as
" Shoe the old horse.
Shoe the old mare.
Let the little colt go bare."
"Baby, baby where are your toes?
Hide them away where nobody knows."
40
CHILD PLAY
For pointing out the features we have the time-
honored :
"Here sits the duke! Here sit his two men!
Here sits the cock! Here sits the hen!
Here is the door! Here they run in!
Chin-chopper, chin-chopper, chin-chopper, chin!"
There are many other baby plays such as the swing-
ing of the hands to imitate the swinging pendulum; the
turning of the hand to show how the weather-vane
goes; or the waving hand for a waving flag. Singing or
rhythmic words accompany the plays; as,
"Tick-tack-too —
"What may I do?
Listen well, the clock will tell."
Or,
Or,
'Tickety-tock! Tickety-tock!
Romid and romid go the hands of the clock!'
" To and fro, to and fro !
Swings the pendulum sure and slow."
For the weather-vane we have a stock of rhymes.
"The merry wind blows
And the weather-cock goes."
Or
"Whichever way the wind may blow.
Look at the vane, and you will know."
For older children we have these verses :
"Weather-vane, weather-vane, where do you go?
I go wherever the wind doth blow.
"Weather-vane, weather-vane, what do you do?
I do my duty and so must you."
41
TALKS TO MOTHERS
No observer of children fails to note the special interest
in moving things, especially when the source of movement
is hidden as in the clock, or in the stirring of the leaves,
or waving grain or grass when moved by the wind. To the
joy of motion is added the sense of mystery and wonder.
Sense plays, as tasting sweet and sour, smelling sweet
flowers and spicy evergreens, are Nature's method of
preparing children to learn qualities of objects and to
use judgment in their use. Observation of wind and
weather, of flowers and trees, of birds and bees, of sun,
moon, and stars, is the method of learning which Nature
prescribes for all children. Such observation is guided
and fostered by imitative plays. The watching of moving
things is the baby's first training in observation. For this
reason the swinging ball is a good plaything.
Madame Bertinot, a delightful French woman, who
interests herself in the education of her grandchildren
and all other children, has devised a play table which
may be placed over a baby's crib. It has bright-colored
balls suspended on strings hanging from it. These are
hung so that the waking child may easily see them and
find something to fix his gaze and interest. Instead of
staring into vacancy, he discovers something bright and
pretty to look at. He finds that he can touch the balls
with his feet and that they move merrily. He does not
cry, because he has something to do. When strong
enough he may pull himself up by grasping the balls, or
a little swinging rod suspended from the same narrow
table. The back is strengthened by this exercise.
Finger plays come very early in the child's interest.
We have the old favorites :
42
CHILD PLAY
"This is the church! This is the steeple!
Here is the door! Here are the people!"
"Pat-a-cake," "Peek-a-boo," and "This little Pig," and
many counting plays.
The great success of Dr. Montessori's method of
teaching WTiting is due to the preliminary movements
in outlining the letters, which give the muscular move-
ments necessary for writing. We may surely claim that
the play movements of the fingers render them more
flexible, strengthen the hand and make it a better in-
strument of skill.
At the creeping and walking stage, many plays are
discovered, crawUng under and over things, climbing
on sofa arms, and up and down stairs, walking around
the room on a voyage of discovery. The ceaseless mo-
tion of the active child is tiring to its elders. The father,
taking his Sunday walk, cannot understand why the
little boy circles round him every two or three steps in-
stead of walking straight ahead. Every tree must have a
ring around it. Ten steps are taken where one would
suffice, because the muscles of the child need all this use
to grow strong. The impatient father may say, "Why
can't you walk like other people and keep out of the
way .5^" But father is wrong. The little boy is not meant
to walk like grown-ups. Sometimes he tries the charming
experiment of walking with one foot on the curb and
one in the gutter. This is very satisfying for a time until
an alluring wall is seen with just room for little feet to
walk on top of it. If a helping hand is ready, a new walk-
ing play is gained.
Do not worry if your child is perpetual motion. He
43
TALKS TO MOTHERS
ought to be. Occasional periods of quiet are necessary
for rest and for gaining the habit of self-control through
self-restraint. But the law of life is activity. All living
things move, and all growing things develop through
movement. Children must move and run and play in
order to grow. Sitting still a long time is a torture and
contrary to Nature's laws of growth.
Do you remember the patchwork squares you did?
Do you recall the tediousness of the long hour which you
measured by the weary ticking of the clock .^ Do you see
again the bloodstains on the tiny squares and the tears
which often fell upon the work? May not^ some of the
nerves of the present generation be traced back to the
nerve strain of children?
Now recall some of the loved plays of your childhood.
Do you remember the thrill when you played in the
winter twilight? —
"How far from here to Barbaree? "
"Six miles and three."
"Shall I get there by candle-light? "
" Yes, if the old bear does n't bite!"
What a fascination in the peering into the dark passage
to see where the old bear was hiding ! What joy in the
escape with the swift running feet !
And the shadow plays — when one runs about in a
nightgown trying to touch the elusive shadow on the
wall ! Happy the home with an attic or a big kitchen or
a long entry to play Hide and Seek, I Spy, and Blind
Man's Buff.
Do not complain because the house is cluttered up
with play materials.
44
CHILD PLAY
Be glad that your children have enterprise and inven-
tion to collect them. Do not say, "You must keep still.
I can't bear so much noise. Can't you ever be quiet.?*"
Rejoice that your children are alive and well and normal.
Find in their play the heart leaves of the future.
VALUE OF PLAY
Aristotle, one of the wisest of the Greeks, once said
he had little hope for a boy who was not diligent at his
play, because he did not promise to be diligent at any-
thing.
It was another Greek philosopher who discovered in
the plays of children the secret of good citizenship. He
saw the connection between law and order in the games
of boys and law and order in the community. Capacity
for organization, the spirit of cooperation, and a respect
for the rules of the game are developed in the playground.
City playgrounds with their play leaders foster these
qualities of the growing citizen. The recess and noon
period of the rural school should give opportunity for the
same kind of cooperative plays. The best games are
those in which the teacher joins. The best good is
gained where the teacher has many suggestions for new
plays. "King around a Rosy " and other ring games will
always be played because they bring the players together.
Folk-plays and dances with rhythmic and concerted ac-
tion are bom in the hearts of a people because men were
meant to play and to Hve together.
Dr. Montessori rendered a real service to the cause of
children when she made her plea for movable desks and
seats in a schoolroom. She has not been the only one to
45
TALKS TO MOTHERS
call attention to the fact that mobile children need
mobile furniture : but her voice has been heeded in many
places. Stationary seats and desks give no space for
plays and marches and gymnastic exercises which are
absolutely essential during the long school hours. The
freer activity of the modern school calls for space and
a free grouping of children.
A Parent-Teacher Association should be formed in
every school district to cooperate with the teachers and
the school boards in securing the best opportunities for
their children and the best education. The desires and
demands of the community determine what schools
shall be. Parents may ask for their children the right to
grow in stature as well as in wisdom, through the school
training.
The examinations of young men for the draft in 1917
showed that a third of our youth had some physical dis-
ability. The country districts made as poor a showing
as the city showed. What is the reason? Country chil-
dren have not been given the chance to breathe the
good air about them because of closed windows and
doors. They have not had the right physical exercise
that comes through play. The health crusade conducted
by the Anti-Tuberculosis Society in New York is an
excellent movement for the schools of the country dis-
tricts, as well as for city schools.
Every boy and girl should learn and practice the laws
of good hygiene. They should also have their place and
time to play. Mothers, give it to them in the home and
plead for it in the school.
This is what Froebel says of play:
46
CHILD PLAY
"The plays of childhood are the germinal leaves of
all later hf e ; for the whole man is developed and shown
in these, in his tenderest dispositions, in his innermost
tendencies. The whole later life of man, even to the
moment when he shall leave it again, has its source in
the period of childhood — be this later life pure or im-
pure, gentle or violent, quiet or impulsive, industrious
or indolent, rich or poor in deeds, passed in dull stupor
or in keen creativeness, in stupid wonder or intelligent
insight, producing or destroying, the bringer of har-
mony or discord, of war or peace." ^
G. W. Tuttle writes in the Child-Welfare Maga^ne
of " A Child's Right to Noisy Play ":
'* I have an idea that when my dear mother went to
heaven the angels had a nice quiet corner for her where
she could rest. Just think of seven children rushing up
and down the old stairs of the hundred-year-old New
England house, from kitchen to attic, playing *Hide
and go seek,' on a rainy day.
" It was strenuous for the dear mother, but the chil-
dren had a glorious time in that old, old house. Hiding-
places — there were hiding-places everywhere ! Possibly
my dear, patient mother should have objected to so
much noisy play upon a rainy day — for her sake, not
ours — but she did not. She dearly loved to have her
children have a good time. The dearest spot in the world
to me to-day is that old house on a Connecticut hill,
three thousand miles away.
" But houses are built differently nowadays, and the
dooryards are smaller, and unless Jennie and Edgar are
1 The Education of Man.
47
TALKS TO MOTHERS
very quiet the sensitive neighbor who Hves next door
will be ready to move to South America, or to some
other distant locality. She will say: 'I never knew such
noisy children; and their father such a quiet man.'
" She did not Hve next door to the father when he was
ten years of age; had she done so nervous prostration
would still have her in its grip.
" Fortunate the child who lives in the country, where
he has all out-of-doors to make a noise in, to exercise
his lungs, and feet, and hands, to run and jump, and
play and shout, and no one to say: *0h, Johnnie, don't;
you will disturb Mrs. Smith.'
"Boys and girls need strenuous play and exercise.
Lungs develop by use; muscles of arms and legs develop
by use. Ill fare the children who are constantly repressed;
who must not make a noise, who must sit up and look
pleasant, who must not soil their clothes, who must not
go barefoot — who must not do a hundred things that
nature intended them to do."
VII
PLAYTHINGS
"The playthings of a child should be like a distaff of flax, from
which the fancy weaves the coat of many colors."
Jkan Paul Richter
A STORY is told of some Esquimaux who were
taken to visit London. They were conducted
through the busy streets. They visited Trafalgar Square,
the Tower, and the British Museum. At the end of the
day they were weary and gloomy. "Too much smoke!
Too much noise! Too much everything!" they said.
"We go no more to see the city. We go home."
A little friend of mine had a similar feeling as he wearily
surveyed a heap of Christmas gifts. "I think I have too
much," he said with an accent of despair. The joy of
Christmas was spoiled by the burden of many possessions.
The pleasure which one or two toys might have given was
clouded by the feeling of inability to comprehend all.
The child showered with too many things is really
an unfortunate child because the delight in simple things
is denied him. Equally unfortunate is the possessor of
many complicated and elaborate toys, too difficult to
manage with his small skill. I read once of an only child,
blessed with various uncles, who delighted to bestow
gifts upon him. On a certain Christmas morning, toy
trains and fire engines, auto carts, and other mechan-
ical toys filled the space around the tree. The father and
uncles began to set up the engines, to lay the tracks, and
49
TALKS TO MOTHERS
to run the trains. They were enjoying the play when the
small boy was missed. He was discovered in the kitchen
with the cook playing with the dough. He had found
something he could manage.
TOO MANY PLAYTHINGS
The child who has few toys gets more pleasure and more
benefit from them than the possessor of many. Too often
a chest full of toys will be emptied. All will be scattered
on the floor and none used. Then there are tears and
complaints when so many things must be picked up
and restored to their place. Flitting from toy to toy,
without attention to any, breeds caprice and weariness.
Attention to one thing at a time — a habit so important
in life — is secured by concentrated interest and play
with one toy which has many possibilities of use. It was
a wise mother who gave her little boy only one or two
toys at a time. The Christmas gifts were stored away to
be produced one by one, on rainy days or days in bed,
when each toy could be enjoyed to the full. The same
mother refused to give complicated toys until the little
boy could understand how to make them work. The boy
was musical, and played the tunes he thought of on a chair
or window-seat with great content, until a friend begged
the privilege of giving him a toy piano. At that stage the
piano was a great joy. At once he fingered out, "Lightly
Row," and other songs within the compass of five keys.
THE FUNCTION OF TOYS
"The mechanical toy,'* says Froebel, "has in it an ele-
raent like the viper in the rose." The viper in the rose
50
THE LITTLE BUILDERS
PLAYTHINGS
destroys the life of the flower. The complicated toy de-
feats its own end. It destroys the very spirit of play.
The function of a toy is to stir the child's inventive
powers, to furnish materials for representation, and to
appeal to the imagination. The highly finished product
of the toy shop leaves nothing to the imagination. The
coat of many colors is finished even to the pojckets and
the fancy is untouched. This is why the rag doll is better
than the finest creation of the doll factory. One can
imagine eyes of any color and hair of any hue. The rag
doll can be cuddled and loved, arrayed in a nightgown
or silken robe. It can be taken to bed or hung over one's
arm for a walk or visit. "The little girl provident of her
domestic destiny takes by preference to a doll," but the
doll must make an appeal to her mother love. Who could
love a glassy-eyed, satin-gowned creature with painted
cheeks and stiff knees! Clothes that come off and can
be washed and ironed are essential to happiness.
Tin dishes and china tea-sets are in the class of first
choice for little girls: but nothing compares with the
broken china, set out in order on the rock, in grand-
mother's pasture lot. A whole series of housekeeping
plays are carried on there. Apples and pears furnish
royal feasts and spread the board with all manner of
dainty dishes. Acorn cups and saucers complete the tea-
set, and burr baskets furnish the sideboard. Leaf gar-
lands hung from tree to tree decorate the parlor. Visits
with birch-bark calling cards are paid at various trees
where dwell highborn dames.
Little boys may join in this play. If they are supplied
with saw and hammer and nails and balls of string, they
TALKS TO MOTHERS
add to the scene a hut or tent of boughs where shops
are set up, where Indians encamp, or soldiers sleep.
A box of blocks or a heap of sand in the yard give the
opportunity for group plays which are often continued
through a season. A village is begun and community life
pictured. Day by day houses, shops, and schools are
erected as new streets are laid out. Articles for sale in
the shops are made, sold for pins or other forms of
money. ^
The fitting-up of a doll house in a wooden soapbox
or a cardboard hatbox is a project which boys and girls
can carry on. Curtains must be made and hung and fur-
niture manufactured for the various rooms. Such plays
develop the power of construction, invention, and the
ability to work together.^
Paper dolls are dear to the heart of the older girl and
lead to a desirable interest in cutting and coloring and
design. Fashion sheets, a box of paints, a pair of scissors,
and a pencil are the tools needed. The reformation of
Jane was accomplished by paper dolls. Jane had been a
troublesome member of Settlement classes from the age
of five to fourteen. She was disobedient and disorderly.
She spoiled the order of the classes she attended, and
threw stones through the windows with the obvious
intention of breaking up other classes. Again and again
the Board discussed the need of exiling Jane forever
from the Settlement. Each time some tender-hearted
» See G. Stanley Hall's " Story of a Sand-Pile," in Some Aspects
of Child Education, for an account of such play continued over a
long period of time.
2 See Children's Occupations, vol. ii of this series.
62
PLAYTHINGS
member proposed to give her one more chance. At last,
one happy day for Jane, she was admitted to the paper-
doll class. Dolls were drawn and cut out and costumes
designed for them. Fashion plates were studied for color
and style, and each doll furnished with a full wardrobe
of street gowns, party gowns, and summer gowns. Jane
came into her own. She loved color and straightway dis-
played real talent for design. She was so busy cutting
and pasting that she forgot to be bad. She was so con-
stant at the Settlement that she was given charge of
another class and became a trusted member. One of the
Board members has become interested in her and will
give her a course in dressmaking at some school. Jane
will become a useful member of society.
NECESSITY OF TOYS
The toy is to a child what a tool is to a man. He needs to
see the world in miniature. He is not yet ready for the
realities of life. Play is his world and the plaything his
means of knowing the world. The tendency in our scien-
tific age is to hasten on to the real thing, to insist on use
and reality. A hut big enough to live in, a chair big
enough to sit on, are constructions for the older boy or
girl. They do not belong to the first period of childhood.
The small building blocks of the kindergarten have their
reason for being in the fact that they supply material
for representations in miniature and so belong to the
small child's world.
Let the little being have little things — let him live
in the world where he belongs. The scientific teacher
who would abolish dolls and other playthings and sub-
53
TALKS TO MOTHERS
stitute objects of practical use may understand the sci-
ence of practical life : but she is miles away from under-
standing child nature.
An editor, criticizing the practical tendencies of a
material age which repudiates "trifling toys," said: "It
may be that the development of science and practical
inventions may sacrifice the joys and dreams of children
to its ends and make children into little men and women;
but Heaven forbid that we shall live to see that day!"
The world has had in the Great War a startling and hor-
rifying demonstration of what industrial efficiency can
accomplish when divorced from the imagination, which
is the source of human sympathy and love of one's
brother.
CHOICE OF PLAYTHINGS
Few playthings and the many play incentives offered
in every home furnish to growing children the means
of growth. The piece-bag, the button-bag, newspapers,
picture papers, empty spools, and skewers are all desir-
able play materials. Wise friends may add to this store,
from time to time, tops, balls, reins, puzzles, picture-
books, and other playthings which suggest not one but
many uses.
If special things are kept for Sunday that day is re-
lieved of its tediousness. A dissected picture illustrating
the miracles of the New Testament was a favorite Sun-
day play in one family. That was the day, too, when the
older children took imaginary journeys on the great
map of the United States which hung in the dining-room.
"Go from Worcester to San Francisco and tell what
54
PLAYTHINGS
towns you pass through," might be one possible route.
Again they would explore for rivers or climb mountains
found all over the map.
"Do you not know," H. G. Wells ^ makes his hero say,
"that all education is cultivating the imagination?"
This large kind of education begins in the home. Any
mother may guide and direct it, if she will. She needs
only to remember that she furnishes the distaff of flax.
The child's fancy does the rest.
Dickens has painted for us, in "Hard Times," the
disastrous results of home and school training devoted
solely to gaining facts. Facts are useful only when the
imagination shows their use. Stevenson with a poet's
eye sees the value of toys and play :
"What are you able to build with your blocks?
Temples and palaces, castles and docks;
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.'*
He pictures a child's kingdom thus :
"I called the little pool a sea:
The little hills were big to me:
For I am very small.
I made a boat, I made a town,
I searched the caverns up and down.
And named them one and all."
Mrs. Martha Gallaudet Waring writes in Child-Wel-
fare Magazine of " Toys Made in America ":
" * Clear track, toot-toot, ding-a-ling, chu-chu, all
aboard ! ' all of which means that my two-year-old is at
his favorite play.
* Joan and Peter.
55
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"As I look out of my window I see him on his kiddy-
car pushing along with his sturdy legs and pulling a
train behind him consisting of an iron locomotive and
three cars. His point of departure is the * station,* pro-
claimed a center of traffic by a * wind-up auto-delivery
wagon/ a small one-horse cart full of 'wocks,' and a
two-mule cart in which sits Seraphina, his rag doll, hold-
ing her baby. His objective is *Tybee' at the other end
of the long, straight piazza, so called after the island of
that name which we frequently visit in the summer. A
gateway, built up of one-inch cubes and long brick-
shaped pieces of wood, makes the entrance to the
* island.'
"Boy has been playing this way the better part of an
afternoon, with an occasional bit of encouragement from
elder sisters near by. He is playing with things that
afford plenty of room for original work, manipulation,
and imagination, the auto-toy being the nearest ap-
proach to a mechanical one, and the one he cares least
about. Everything he has is solid and substantial enough
to be really used and enjoyed.
"As I watch him racing up and down in his kiddy-car,
I wonder at his control over it until I study its simple
and excellent mechanism. Its front wheel can turn in
any direction, its steering-gear is strong and easily man-
aged and it is made entirely of wood. Both carts are also
of wood, as well as the mule and horse, and all are well
painted and strongly put together. The cars are painted
red, white, and blue, so I know they are made in our own
coimtry. The rag babies we made ourselves, and although
they are *of a crudeness,' they are none the less be*
56
PLAYTHINGS
loved. The blocks were made by measure at a wood-
yard. Being large and easily handled, a child can build
gates, bridges, and platforms with them big enough to
walk under or upon, and strong enough to stand firm
after they are built.
"Our older children when they were small played prin-
cipally with imported dolls dressed in native costumes.
And I can remember that my brother and I had hand-
some books brought from England, that my finest dolls
were French, and his regiments of toy soldiers came
mostly from the land of militarism.
** But our boy baby, born during the World War and
forced to rely on sturdy, home-made toys, is much bet-
ter off.
" There is a twofold lesson here for us mothers. One
concerns the children themselves and the other goes far
afield into the laws of economics, world production, and
the like.
"We have found that our own substantial, wooden,
easily handled playthings are what our children need
and want. Children's books we have a plenty, the most
artistic, I suppose, in the world. And then we can de-
mand well-made, pretty American dolls. It only remains
for us to hold to all of these, and prove our patriotism
by refusing to buy foreign manufactured toys even if
they are put on the market again later on.
" A far cry, is n't it, from Baby Boy with his * Toot-
toot, ding-a-ling, chu-chu,' on the piazza, to the law of
supply and demand and the regulation of one of the
great industries of the world .^ But in just such way we
are now finding out how great problems must be handled.
57
TALKS TO MOTHERS
We are going back to our earlier and simpler days, wheii
we shall discard the non-essentials as so much waste and
rubbish. Let us begin, then, at the beginning and stick
to toys — *Made in America.' "
VIII
THE LITTLE WORKIVIAN
**Why will a child desert his play
The craftsman's work to see?
Something within him, latent still.
Stirs at each stroke of strength or skill.
Whispering 'Work waits for me!'"
ONE of the "Mother Play" pictures shows the
wheelwright at work. In the center of the scene
a man bends over his work with such absorption that
we are sure he would not look up if we entered the room
and accosted him. He is making a wheel. He wishes it to
be a good one, therefore his whole attention must be
given to it. Another part of the picture shows a man
whose wheel is done. He is testing it to see if it is well
made and runs true. A heavily laden van is moving
along the road. Its wheels are strong and good and the
cart goes safely to its destination. An artillery wagon is
shown. Perhaps the fate of the battle depends on its
good wheels. We remember the broken wheel in the
chariot race described in "Ben Hur." Trucks and bar-
rows and various other vehicles are shown in Froebel's
picture. A child's small hand-cart lies overturned on the
ground. We see that it, too, has wheels. There are wheels
everywhere to show how necessary is the good honest
work of the wheelwright.
This picture is one of the many in Froebel's book in
which the idea of work is emphasized.
59
TALKS TO MOTHERS
There are two reasons for these pictures which show
how the world's work is done.
First, they appeal to the interest of every normal
child in the activities of men and women in the everyday
life about him.
Second, they stir the desire to share in the work. They
make work seem interesting and noble.
Shall we talk a little of these two motives?
Think of the work which a country child sees going
on about him! The farmer sows his field. The farmer
reaps the corn! The farmer mows his field! The hay is
piled upon the cart and carried to the barn. Sometimes,
by glorious chance, a boy may ride on the load of hay
to the barn. Sometimes, even more glorious, he may
drive the horses. Possibly some happy day he may be
allowed to walk by the plough-horse and keep the fur-
row straight. The barefoot boy "with cheek of tan"
gains his tan, and his health and joy, by such natural
Uving in the outdoor life of the farm.
Froebel has chosen the hayfield for his picture of the
farmer. A little boy, too young to really work, has taken
a branch of a tree for a scythe and plays he is mowing,
too. This is the way work begins in playful imitation.
Another picture shows the carpenter building a house.
The forest is seen in the distance. It has given its wood.
The lumber mill is also included in the scene. There the
logs have been made into boards. Now we see the busy
carpenter fitting and framing the parts together to make
a house for some one. In this picture little children are
building with blocks. They too are carpenters.
The baker is another very interesting worker. He
60
THE LITTLE WORKMAN
makes our bread, cookies, and cakes. A visit to a bakery
is a favorite excursion for kindergarten children. Bakers
are invariably good and friendly. They show us the big
ovens. They let us see loaves of bread baking. If we are
fortunate, we watch them take out the steaming loaves
with their long shovels. We are sure to see somewhere
barrels of flour, and great mixing- troughs. We know
more about bread after this visit and we connect the
bread with the flour — the flour takes us to the mill —
and from the mill we travel the road to the farmer. So
we see how the farmer and baker must work together.
We say these lines :
"Back of the loaf is the snowy flour;
Back of the floiir is the mill;
Back of the mill is the sun and the shower,
The rain and the Father's will."
The baby who plays "Pat-a-cake" gurgles with glee
as he claps his little hands. He knows nothing of the
meaning of his play. The movement is pleasing to him,
as is the surprise at the end when we "throw it away to
bake! " But one day the little mind connects the play
with the baker's man who has brought the bread. The
baby play takes a new meaning.
*'I can do what the baker's man does. I can pat and
make a cake. I can put it into the oven to bake."
He is making his first links in the great chain of life
and service.
The charcoal-burner is another of Froebel's heroes.
In our country we substitute the coal-miners. Christina
G. Rossetti makes a lump of coal as interesting as a
diamond in these lines:
61
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"A diamond or a coal?
A diamond, if you please.
Who cares about a clumsy coal
Beneath the summer trees?
"A diamond or a coal?
A coal, sir, if you please.
One comes to care about the coal
What time the waters freeze."
A lump of coal from a coal-hod can tell us a fascinating
tale of the past. Sometimes sharp eyes find on the bit
of coal the fern picture or leaf pattern stamped there
from the forests of long ago.
WHAT THE COAL SAYS
"I am as black as black can be.
But yet I shine.
My home was deep within the earth.
In a dark mine.
Ages ago I was buried there.
And yet I hold
The sunshine and the heat, which warmed
That world of old.
Though black and cold I seem to be.
Yet I can glow.
Just put me on a blazing fire.
Then you will knov/."
And what shall we say of the miner who brings us
these black beauties from the mine? Is he our friend and
helper? He gives us coal to heat our homes. He gives the
"oal to run the railroad trains that they may bring us
flour and meat and butter and eggs and other foods. He
gives the coal to turn the wheels in the mills where the
cloth for our dresses and coats are made. The wool for
our mittens is spun in a mill. The miner must send coal
m
THE LITTLE WOROIAN
or the wheels of the woolen mill are still. How much be
does for us ! Is he a good helper in the world's work?
A collection of pictures to show how the world's work
is done is valuable in every home. You can find good
pictures in the illustrated Sunday papers and in many
periodicals. It is well as you talk of these things to let
the children collect pictures and make their own picture
books. You will think of many other workers and many
interesting kinds of work.^
RESPECT FOR LABOR
The second motive for Froebel's trade plays and pic-
tures is to give children a just idea of the dignity of
work.
"As you teach your child to respect his own hand,
teach him also to respect those who work with their
hands. Waken his gratitude toward, and consideration
for, those through whose labor he is blessed with food,
clothing, and shelter. Teach him to honor each 'toil-
worn craftsman,' however humble his calling, who wards
off danger from individuals and communities, and whose
labor directly furthers the welfare of mankind." ^
With Mrs. Browning, Froebel would say: "Get work!
Get work ! Be sure 't is better than what you work to
get."
In his earliest book, "The Education of Man," he
says: "The notion that man toils a ad w^orks solely to
1 In Children s Occupations, vol. ii, of this Series, Mrs. Nash illus-
trates the making of many common things.
^ Mottoes and Commentaries of FroeheVs Mother Play. "The Chai'"
coal Burner." See Student's Froebel, pp. 19 and 20.
TALKS TO MOTHERS
support his body — his husk — to earn bread, house, and
clothes — is an error, is lowering; to be put up with,
perhaps, on no account to be spread: for it is not true.
Originally and properly, man works to realize outside
him the spiritual — the Divine — which dwells within
him; that he may thus learn to know his own spiritual
nature, and the nature of God. The bread, dwelling,
clothes, which come to him thereby, are to boot!"
The most important figure in the world to-day is the
working-man. We depend on him for all the comforts
and necessities of life. What he is — what his attitude
to work is — is a fundamental concern of every family
and of every individual. Can mothers do anything to
train a new generation which shall not only honor work
and the workman; but find it a noble and good thing to
do work? May mothers help to the day, when work shall
be, not a curse, but a blessing !
There was happy work in the Garden of Eden. "And
the Lord God took the man, and put him into the Gar-
den of Eden to dress it and to keep it." Adam had his
work. His life was Eden. All was joy and happiness,
with blooming flowers, growing trees, and singing birds.
How did the curse come upon work? When Adam was
driven forth from the garden to hard conditions with a
wrong feeling in his heart. The man's attitude to his
work had changed. He did not rejoice in the work of his
hands. We read of a day when there shall be no more
curse. That day will come when every one finds his right
bit of work and rejoices in it.
Mothers may help more than any statesmen or law-
makers to create another Eden on earth. Every home
THE LITTLE WORKMAN
may show the beauty and glory of work. Every home
may know work and the workers. Every mother may
teach her children: "In the world's work each must help
as he ought.'*
HEROES OF LOWLY SERVICE
A PRIMARY teacher once made a series of lessons and
talks for her boys on the workers who were helping to
keep the city safe and clean and supplied with the needs of
life. She called these toilers "Heroes of Lowly Service."
The children learned to look upon the workers as
worthy of all honors. They were led to be grateful for
their service.
Do you see who some of these heroes are?
The policeman who stands at his post and never
deserts, in face of danger or threats, is a true hero. He
protects life and property even when a mob gathers and
threatens to destroy everything. Nothing makes him
desert his post. Is not this a true hero for a boy to
admire?
A fireman who climbs a tall ladder to rescue a child
at the top of a burning building is a hero. He risks his
life to save another.
The sailors on the Titanic, who stood in their places
helping women and children into the lifeboats, and went
down with the ship, were great heroes.
My friend, the primary teacher, told her boys many
such tales of toil and of faithfulness to duty. One day
she said: "Boys, these men do real work. They do it just
as well as they can, although their part is hidden and
no one ever knows what they do."
65
TALKS TO MOTHERS
A boy raised his hand. "Miss W.," he said, "people
do know. I saw a horse drawing a milk cart up this hill
this morning. The street was very slippery, but the
horse's shoes were spiked and they held in the ice so the
horse did not slip. Every one would know if the black-
smith had not shod the horse right."
"Very good," said Miss W. "A man's work tells when
it is tested. But suppose no one ever found out and no
one ever could know, should he do his work just as well.? "
The boys said, "Yes."
Then they learned these Hnes:
"In the ancient days of art
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each unseen and hidden part.
For the gods see everywhere."
Heroes of lowly service!
They serve every home !
Shall our boys join their ranks may be?
In any case shall they honor the service?
Mr. Hagedorn glorifies such service in these lines
which children should learn :
"There are strange ways of serving God;
You sweep a room or turn a sod.
And suddenly, to your surprise.
You hear the whirr of seraphim
And find you're under God's owti eyes
And building palaces for Him.'*
IX
THRIFT
**A penny saved is a penny earned."
"Many a little makes a mickle."
THRIFT is providing for the future. It is looking
ahead. During the Great War there was a national
campaign for thrift. We were told that American homes
were wasteful. We were told that a French family could
live on what was wasted at an American table. Lessons
in thrift were given in the schools. Children were urged
to earn money and to save money for War Savings
Stamps. No doubt in many homes there was real con-
servation of food and of income. Shall we remember
these lessons of the war.? Do your children still buy War
Savings Stamps? Do they save food or waste it? Do you
keep your war gardens? Do you have a bank where pen-
nies are put to buy a birthday gift for Grandma or a
Christmas present for the baby? Do you talk with your
children about providing for the winter in storing vege-
tables? Do they help you gather the corn and tomatoes
for canning? Do they pick berries for canning? All of
these activities furnish occasion for lessons in thrift.
THE THRIFTY HOME
The thrifty home is the home where nothing is wasted.
Children see how the scraps of meat are set away to
make a good dinner of "left-overs." They enjoy the
67
TALKS TO MOTHERS
vegetable salad made of various remnants of peas, beans,
and spinach. They learn to eat the crusts of bread and
to enjoy them. Perhaps they learn the old rhyme:
"I must not throw upon the floor
The crust I cannot eat.
For many a hungry little one
Would think it quite a treat."
At this time we can tell them of the hungry children
in Serbia, in France, and in Belgium. We can make
them feel a desire to save as much as possible, that our
brothers and sisters over the seas may be fed. Do you
have a piece-bag and put away bits of cloth, which may
be used for dressing dolls, for making holders, bags for
marbles, and maybe for patchwork?
SAVING MONEY
Most children have a bank where the pennies which
are given or earned are kept. Sometimes the saving habit
may make the child miserly and selfish. He may begin
to hoard for the sake of hoarding and keeping. To avoid
this, talk with your child about the reasons for saving
money. The first and most important reason for a child
is to be able to make his own gifts. At Sunday School a
child gains no real benefit of giving if he simply hands
over a penny which some one has given him. If the
money is earned and saved, it is his own. If -Tames has
denied himself candy or a top, he has gained the joy of
making a real gift.
A second reason for training children to save money
is that they may form the habit of looking ahead and
providing for some future need. This leads to thrift.
68
THRIFT
EARNING MONEY
For what shall children be paid? Not for doing little
acts of service called for in family life. James runs to
get the evening paper for his father, not because he is
paid for doing it, but because he loves to save his
father's steps. Mary takes the baby out in the carriage
because she wishes to help mother. She is not paid for
doing it.
In order, however, that children may learn the use
and value of money, some means of earning must be
provided.
A certain family living in the country gave each boy a
plot of ground in the garden. One boy raised tomatoes,
the other potatoes. The mother paid for the vegetables
at the market price. The older boy, who planted pota-
toes, raised several barrels and earned a goodly sum to
help in his college expenses.
I knew another family where a bank was kept whose
contents were to be spent on a trip to Europe. The chil-
dren denied themselves cake and candy that they might
look forward to a far-off pleasure.
A boy on a farm began his business career by keeping
hens and selling his eggs to the family. He read the
daily paper to see the market quotations. He was careful
to raise and lower his price according to the market.
Thriftless families and thriftless individuals are a
burden to the communities where they live. They live
from "hand to mouth*' and often depend on the good-
ness of their neighbors for help over hard places.
Dickens paints such a happy-go-lucky character in
69
TALKS TO MOTHERS
his famous Micawber. Mr. Micawber was always look-
ing for something to turn up, but he did not use the fore-
sight and judgment necessary to turn anything. A will
has recently been published in which the maker gives
this advice to his heirs :
"As I never speculated and never made any money
by increase of investments in value, but have accumu-
lated what I have by the hardest kind of work and by
economy in expenses, I hope my children will be satisfied
to so use what I leave them that they will make its
enjoyment last, rather than try to enjoy it expeditiously,
or seek to make more of it than common sense in invest-
ment calls for; thus with industry added to thrift the
*wet day,* *old age,' and infirmities will not be so much
dreaded. Micawber's rule about income and expenses,
which he never practiced, is a pretty good one to follow
— or at least remember."
Micawber's rule was: "Annual income twenty
pounds; annual expenditure twenty pounds nought
and six — result misery. Annual income twenty pounds;
annual expenditure nineteen, nineteen, six, — resul*
happiness."
ALLOWANCES FOR CHILDREN
In order that children may understand the value of
money it is well to give each child an allowance as soon
as he is able to reckon and to keep accounts. Nothing
teaches a lesson of thrift like finding one's self without
funds when there has been a careless expenditure. A
penny spent to-day for a bun or a piece of candy cannot
be spent again when a new need arises. The allowance
70
THRIFT
for a young child should be small, perhaps a penny a
week; but the training gained will be a good beginning
for financial responsibility.
In one family the allowance was withheld for acts of
disobedience or certain other misdeeds. This put a pre-
mium on good behavior. The father explained to the
boy that if he could not be trusted to remember what he
had been told, he could not be trusted with money.
As a child grows older the allowance may be increased
in proportion to the needs of the boy or girl. When the
time comes to leave home and go to school or college,
young people should be trusted to handle their own
funds and to pay their own bills. The knowledge of the
purchasing power of money can be gained in no other
way.
The child who spends his allowance too soon and re-
grets it later has learned a valuable lesson in choice. The
lesson is lost if parents supply the missing funds and
say: "I will give it to you this time. But remember next
time to think twice and see what you really wish most.'*
The little one will not remember. His father or his
mother has repaired his error in judgment and he will
expect the same help again.
THRIFT LESSONS
The public schools are urged to continue the Thrift
Campaigns begun during the war. The home should
cooperate with the school in the effort to curb extrav-
agance and waste. Mothers may encourage their boys
to join the Corn Clubs and the Httle girls to join the
Tomato Clubs.
n
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Will your children be interested in the following
facts?
The saving of a dime a day, if set aside regularly,
will yield great returns. If continued twenty years,
with interest at five per cent, allowed to accumulate,
the amount will happily surprise the saver.
In one year, $36.50, with an interest of $1.82, will be
effected.
At the end of five years, $201.67, with an interest of
$10.08 will be accumulated.
In ten years, the saver will have $449.05, with an
interest of $22.95.
By the end of the fifteenth year, $787.54, with an
interest of $39.38 will be saved.
Saving a dime a day will yield, at the end of twenty
years, $1206.81.
Can you not give your children some of the problems
made for the schools of Evanston, IlHnois, by Super-
intendent A. N. Farmer.^ Maybe such problems will give
a real enthusiasm to your home economics.
* Children in France need sugar —
Will you help to save it ?
"Mary needs six tablespoonfuls of sugar a day. She
eats two tablespoonfuls of sugar on her oatmeal, four
tablespoonfuls of sugar in her cooked food, and two
tablespoonfuls of sugar in her candy. In one day how
many more tablespoonfuls of sugar does Mary eat than
she really needs?
"Each day Alice used two tablespoonfuls of syrup
instead of two tablespoonfuls of sugar, in order to save
72
THRIFT
two tablespoonfuls of sugar for a little child in France.
How many tablespoonfuls of sugar did she save in seven
days?
" John puts two teaspoonfuls of sugar in his oatmeal.
John's father puts three teaspoonfuls of sugar in his
coffee. In one day how many teaspoonfuls of sugar could
be saved for the little Belgian children if John used one
teaspoonful of sugar in his oatmeal and his father used
one teaspoonful of sugar in his coffee?
"A soldier needs six tablespoonfuls of sugar a day,
Edith saves two tablespoonfuls of sugar a day. In how
many days will Edith save enough sugar to feed a soldier
all the sugar he needs for one day?
" People in Europe need flour for bread —
Your waste means their hunger.
"A woman used three cupfuls of wheat flour to make
one loaf of bread. She wishes to save flour for our sol-
diers, so she used two cupfuls of flour and one cupful of
rye flour for each of her loaves. How many cupfuls of
flour does she save in making eight loaves of bread?
"John's family eats three pounds of meat each day.
They plan to eat fish or eggs, instead of meat, two days
of each week. How many pounds of meat will they save
in one week? How many pounds of meat will they save
in one month?
"By leaving butter in their plates and throwing away
buttered bread Alice and John each wasted one teaspoon-
ful of butter a day. If they used only the butter they
needed how many teaspoonfuls of butter did they save
for the little children of Europe in one week? "
73
TALKS TO MOTHERS
THE LOW COST OF LIVING
In tlie Toronto Health Bulletin we find the following
facts:
"We hear very much of the high cost of living, but
we overlook the fact that many of the best things of
life can be had for nothing.
"It costs nothing to stand up and walk and breathe
properly.
'''Fresh air in the home is free.
''No expense to taking a few simple exercises every
morning.
" It costs nothing to chew the food thoroughly.
"It costs nothing to select the food best suited to the
body.
"It costs nothing to clean the teeth twice a day.
"It costs nothing to stop using patent medicines.
"It costs no more to read good books than trashy
literature.
"It costs nothing to have a cheerful, happy disposi-
tion, and stop having grouches.
"These things cost nothing, yet they will bring con-
tent and reduce the doctor's bill to nothing a year.'*
LOVE OF MONEY
"The love of money is the root of all evil," says the wise
man. A man's life does not consist in the abundance of
things which he possesseth. This fundamental truth
must be taught along with our lessons in thrift. Money
is saved, money is earned, to be spent wisely, not to be
counted and hoarded. We store and preserve in order
74
THRIFT
that we may be able to cheer the winter days with sum-
mer fruits. We desire also to be able to share our good
cheer with family friends and guests, so we must provide.
We work now in order that life may be comfortable
and happy in the future. To refuse to do so would be
short-sighted and foolish. But to amass and to pile up
goods beyond our needs is also foolish. It makes material
gains an end in themselves.
From you, mothers, your children are learning lessons
of thrift and of a wise provision for the future. From
you also they must learn where to lay up their real
treasures.
THE MESSAGE OF THE THRIFT FLOWER
The "Message of the Thrift Flower'* is a good message
for every home. It has been sent out for the War Savings
Campaign.
"There is a little flower that adds a gay touch of color
to many a stretch of barren country. Once it was called
*Sea Pink' and long ago it was known among country
people as * Ladies' Cushion,' but our Anglo-Saxon fore-
fathers named it 'Thrift,' and that is the name by which
it is commonly known in England to-day.
"Right well does the courageous little plant deserve
the name * Thrift,' It blossoms alike on mud flats and
windy sand hills or spreads its rosy bloom up the rocky
mountain-side. It is this power of living where any
other plant would starve that has given it this name of
'Thrift.'
"Sometimes it grows where every tide washes over it
and sometimes away from all moisture on a rocky hill.
75
TALKS TO MOTHERS
At the seaside it converts iodine and soda into plant food
while from the mountain rocks it gathers potash.* Thrift'
belongs to the small family of leadworts, but its repre-
sentatives are found in most parts of the world. This is
because the * Thrift' makes the most of its resources
and always manages to capitalize available food-supplies
into a refreshing growth of green and a wealth of bloom.
"The * Thrift' puts forth pinpoint blossoms of pinkish
purple that grow in clusters of from twenty to thirty and
thus form a showy head. With the coming of summer
the * Thrift' plant brings a flush like a rosy sunrise to the
gray downs of old England and up the barren mountain-
side. Along our own Pacific Coast the same meadows of
color may be seen stretching away among the rocky
headlands forming an enchanting harmony of purple
bloom, gray rocks, and blue ocean.
"This little plant not only manages to turn the bitter
sea salt into blossom, but puts away in each dainty
flower a tiny drop of honey. Even in its last act the
* Thrift' flower gives up to its name. When the petals
fall, the cuplike calyx remains intact and forms a dainty
and serviceable parachute for each little seed, there
being only one to a flower. On this it sails away on the
first convenient wind, to begin its fortunes all over
again in some other barren spot.
"The ^Thrift' flower carries the message the Govern-
ment is trying to send out to each boy and girl in
America: *Look around hke the "Thrift" and discover
the wealth in your corner, work your corner, make it
produce more, and save to produce still more.' "
X
THE HELPFUL CHILD
"If to a child's sole care is left
Something which, of that care bereft.
Would quickly pine and fade.
The joy of nurture he will learn;
A rich experience which will turn
His inner life to aid."
Froebel
AFTER giving us this motto, Froebel asks, "Will
you not give your children the courage and con-
stancy which the ability to give nurture implies?"
Courage and constancy ! What splendid things to give a
child ! Indeed, yes. But how? For our minds immediately
picture the lack of constancy we see in these careless,
playful, thoughtless children. And the courage must be
of the kind called fortitude, and more dijBScult to attain
than mere courage.
While a child is literally in a mother's hands to do
with as she will, she can plan for the years to come. In
Hardy's "The Woodlanders" he tells of a tree-planting,
which is interesting in this connection: " Winterborn's
fingers were endowed with a gentle conjuror's touch in
spreading the roots of each little tree, resulting in a sort
of caress under which the delicate fibers all laid them-
selves out in their proper directions for growth. He put
most of these roots towards the southwest; for, he said,
in forty years' time, when some great gale is blowing
77
TALKS TO MOTHERS
from that quarter, the trees will require the strongest
holdfast on that side to stand against it and not fall."
Habits, ideas, desires, and impulses — these are the
little rootlets that mothers must train in the direction
from which the great gales of temptation will blow in
the years to come. A mother can foresee storms, as well
as can a planter of trees. She can train in such a way
"that they may stand against it and not fall."
**0h, where, oh, where are the merry little men, to help us in our
play?
And where, oh, where are the busy little men, to help us work
to-day? "
Emilie Poulsson
Baby's ten "merry little men" are small, but they can
do a great deal of mischief in the course of a day. By the
time a child is two years old, some of his incessant
activity can be turned to account. He can stand by his
mother when she dresses the baby and hand her the
towels and little garments as she asks for them. He will
be very much in the way, but it is excellent training.
He can put away his toys before he goes to bed. At night
dolls should sit in a silent row against the wall. Precious
treasures should be put into the toy box, blocks fitted
into their own box. This is nurture, and the encourage-
ment and insistence required are wearing, but very sure
to pay in the end. A small boy, deprived of these early
lessons, because his mother was "too busy to bother,"
grew to be lawless, careless, troublesome, and six years
old, when one day something happened. As he listened
in Sunday School to the story of a boy (bigger than him-
self) who helped his mother, a little impulse to help his
78
THE HELPFUL CHILD
mother was born in his heart. The boy in the stoi^^ was
bigger and stronger than the boy with the impulse and
that made helping mother seem to be a right and manly
thing to do. This was just what the teacher intended,
hoping for the cooperation of his mother. That night he
offered to dry the supper dishes. "Oh, I can get on faster
without you," said his capable mother. Later, he asked
if he could help her put the babies to bed. "No," said
his mother; "get your picture-book, and wait till I am
ready for you." The boy looked at pictures until his
mother called that his bath was ready. That night as
the boy slept the little impulse died for lack of care and
exercise. It had not been nurtured. "The plant that is
not watered, dies." When he was older his overworked
mother asked for his help, but the service was unwilling,
and awkward — and she wondered with a sigh why boys
were so clumsy and disagreeable.
" Your gentle words he may not seem to hear.
But they will live to serve him in his need."
Froebel
"Have you made your bed.^" "Did you water your
plant?" "Don't forget to put away your rubbers."
Is n't it a comforting thought that your gentle words
will "live" and "serve"? It may help, to make out a
schedule of daily duties, with checked-off space for
markings as the work is done. If the schedules are talked
over with the children and pronounced "fair" by them,
the atmosphere will be clearer than if there is a feehng
of being imposed upon. A child should be honored by
being trusted to work his own card and a system of
79
TALKS TO MOTHERS
rewards can be devised to stimulate endeavor. The re-
ward may be a small allowance, which in turn is very
educational and saves many requests for money, expla-
nations, and arguments. Or, the rewards may be help
with whatever interests are uppermost, such as stamp
collecting, reading, furnishing doll houses or tool chests.
Many reasonable children enjoy knowing just what work
lies before them, and also the feeling that they have a
part in the making of their homes. In many cases there
will be no mention of rewards.
On the door of one boy's room the following list is
firmly nailed:
MY WORK
Vi. Sat.
X X
X X
Morning: Sun. Mon.
Tues. Wed. Thurs. I
Made my bed x x
XXX
Swept piazza x x
XXX
Filled woodbox
Evening:
Put away work
Dried supper dishes
A girl's Hst may read:
Morning:
Evening:
Made my bed
Set supper table
Dried breakfast dishes
Read stories to baby
Emptied scrap baskets
** Come forth into the light of things.
Let natm^ be your teacher."
Wordsworth
In play, children use imagination, and the use of imagi-
nation, while at work, brings work to the very borderland
of play. Singing, question games, stories — fascinating
80
THE HELPFUL CHILD
make-believe — can be enjoyed without interfering in
the least with the shelling of peas, sewing, bed-making,
dish-washing, and many other home industries.
As an instance, think how uninteresting sweeping
can be, and yet the little girl, who imagined that she
was "driving out the hordes of sin" ^vith every vigorous
stroke of the broom, called sweeping "play." There are
little sweeping songs that lend swing to the motion of
the broom. It is fun to trace the household gods back to
their sources. The broom, even to the strings that hold
the broom corn in place, grew out of doors. The handle
was the strong branch of a straight pine. Broom corn
growing is not a familiar sight everywhere, but we can
find a picture of it in the dictionary. Sometimes little
seeds cling to the brush, and they may grow if planted
in the window-box. In caring for the broom we conclude,
since every part of it grew out of doors, in rain and shine,
that it can be washed and dried in the sun. So it is with
dish-washing, bed-making, and the whole of home-
making. Touch it with the magic of imagination and
drudgery is forgotten.
"Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God."
The Bible
Setting the table is good discipline. It involves the
training of the eye, for things should be straight and
neat. It teaches arithmetic, for the table must be set for
the right number of people, and cups, spoons, and many
other things need to be counted. The child who is tail
enough to reach the center of the table is old enough to
set it, for no special physical strength is required.
81
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Appreciation and commendation are very encourag-
ing. "I know that John must have set this table," said
a father, "because he always gets things as shipshape as
any sailor." "Mary thinks when she sets the table; she
thought to put the bowl of apples in the center, and how
pretty they look!"
Even a small child can understand that it is her work
to keep salt-cellars, sugar-bowls, or match-holder filled.
Because she is small she will need to be reminded often;
the times when she forgets may be passed over rather
lightly; the times she remembers spoken of with praise.
In one family a meal is now and then planned sim^
ply and given absolutely into the hands of three little
daughters. The children love doing it, and the father
confided that since this plan had been in operation he
had gained in self-conLrol.
" If for his pets, he learns a tender care
He 'U learn ere long to cherish all he cares."
Froebel
The children who live in larger cities are deprived of the
joy of owning certain animals as pets. But even city
children may care for^kittens, canary birds, or goldfish;
living, breathing creatures, dependent upon their owners
for their lives. The child, who lives where there is space
and food for larger animals, can care for dogs, ponies,
rabbits, chickens, and any hurt or handicapped creatures
that he may find. Only when children are willing to care
faithfully for pets should they be allowed to own them,
and all animals and birds, not domesticated, should be
left to their own wild way of living.
82
THE HELPFUL CHILD
A helpful child will enjoy attending to the needs of
the wild birds when intense cold or severe drought causes
them to be thirsty or hungry. The helpful child will also
feed and clean cages, and do whatever captive pets may
need without having to be reminded often. No abuse,
either through neglect or indifference, should be al-
lowed. An excess of love and undue fondling are equally
bad. The death of a pet, because of a child's wrong treat-
ment, is a good lesson, though a bitter one. A delightful
boy in one of Kipling's poems, says to his Daddy:
"Let's go up to the pig-sties and sit on the barnyard rail!
Let's say things to the bunnies and watch them skitter their tails!"
A child's care for animals surely means that a chance
to sit on barnyard rails and watch pigs and bunnies, to
fill seed-cups and close cages, should be a part of every
child's education in helpfulness and thoughtfulness.
** Yearnings, which, wisely trained, will grow at length
To motive power, still strengthening with his strength."
Froebel
A WISE man said, "Play is God's method of teaching
children to work." The kitten that plays with the dried
leaf, as the wind stirs it, is preparing to pounce upon
mice, some day. Kittens and children learn many things
as they play out of doors. Children are learning to be
helpful when they find their own toys. Play, with corn-
cob dolls, shell tea-sets, sand pies, and "make-believe
money," is developing ingenuity and imagination. In-
doors a child loves to collect such materials as clothes-
pins, kindling-wood, scraps of cloth and paper, for the
manufacture of boats with sails, tents, and dolls. The
83
TALKS TO MOTHERS
corner behind the sofa or a window recess will appear
to be the most convenient sort of little house, and the
furnishings, although nearly all in imagination, are very-
satisfactory. Froebel, in his play of the carpenter, sug-
gests that children are impelled to furnish such play-
houses, because of an unconscious ideal, the ideal home.
They are happy at home, and home is the safest, happi-
est place there is. They think of it in their play, building
one home within another. Nothing helps a busy mother
more than contented, playful children, and if she remem-
bers that small children desire to make or to destroy she
will provide material rather than finished toys. Beautiful
dolls, watches, and mechanical toys of exquisite com-
pleteness suffer destruction, sooner or later, and teach
the child almost nothing.
It is comparatively easy to supply little children with
constructive material; but the demands of a tousled,
discontented lad are problems. A father of boys found
them difficult to understand, until he seriously thought
over his own boyhood experience. He then rigged up a
work-room, where no one was admitted except by invi-
tation. Indeed, "Private, keep out," was written large
on the door. A tool chest was built and furnished. A
shoe-blacking outfit was instituted, and the shoes of the
family blacked regularly.
The small repairs about the house were made by the
boys, and the shelves in the work-room contained collec-
tions of many sorts, undisturbed by broom or duster.
The friends of the boys came, and clubs were formed.
The boy's sister cooperated finely in the matter of re-
freshments, knocking respectfully upon the door of the
84
THE HELPFUL CHILD
work-room with offerings of cakes and apples that never
came amiss. In return, sister never lacked escorts, or
trusty messengers, and the father was favored with
many intimacies, being considered a very right-minded
man by his own boys and their friends.
The days of shell tea-sets and rag dolls fly by. Even
the hours spent in arranging collections on the shelves
of private work-rooms come to an end. The men and
women that go out from our homes are helping the world
to a new and better day. How much of this helpfulness
did they learn, as children at home, do you think?
THE child's right TO WORK
In the Child Welfare Magazine G. W. Tuttle writes:
" When the parents refuse to set tasks for a child the
Devil gets busy. He sets the tasks, then leaves the par-
ents to pay the bills.
"An idle child is not a normal child. The healthy
child simply must have something to do — that is the
healthful, normal condition of childhood.
" In addition to the active sports and games of child-
hood, simple tasks, little responsibilities, should fall
upon the child. If they are regular, daily tasks, so much
the better and more useful. The boy who brings in a
single armful of wood for his mother, regularly, every
night, is learning to do reguiar, systematic work. And
just teach the boy to do his own thinking; not remind
him every night that it is time to bring in the wood. Do
not follow a boy around too closely; just say, * Johnnie,
it is up to you to remember to bring in that wood ! ' and
then act as if it were all settled.
85
TALKS TO MOTHERS
" When Nellie wipes the knives and forks after every
meal she is doing something immensely more valuable
than simply wiping knives and forks; she is acquiring
habits of industry that will help her to be a neat, faithful
wife and housekeeper at some future day.
" Pity the children who never have a chance to form
habits of industry. Years ago our daily paper was deliv-
ered by the son of a very wealthy man. 'There is the son
of a rich man who will amoimt to something,' my wife
remarked; *his father is not spoiling him.'
"Sure enough, the industrious boy rose high; posi-
tions opened to him which could never have been his
but for the habits of industry that he had formed in
early Hfe."
LITTLE LIGHTS
By Catherine T. Bryce
One night, when the sun had disappeared and the birds
had tucked their heads beneath their wings to rest, one
of the night birds flew close to an electric light.
"Of what use are you?" asked the bird. "You give so
little light compared with the sun!"
"I do the best I can," said the light. "Think how
dark this corner would be if I were not here. People
walking and driving might run into one another and
some one might get hurt."
"That's true," said the bird, and away he flew. Then
he came near a gaslight standing apart from houses and
busy streets.
"Of what use are you?" asked the bird. "You do not
give as much light as the electric light!"
THE HELPFUL CHILD
"I do the best I can," said the light. "Do you not see
that steep bank just beyond? If I were not here, some
one might fall."
"That's true," said the bird, and away he flew. Soon
his sharp eyes spied a lamp in a window.
"Of what use are you?" asked the bird. "You do not
give even as much light as the gaslight!"
"I do the best I can. I am in the window to throw
light down the path, that Farmer Brown may see the
way when he comes home. I do the best I can."
"That's true," said the bird, and away he flew. But
iigain his sharp eyes spied a light — a tiny candle light
in a nursery window.
"Of what use are you? " asked the bird. "Your light is
so small. You do not give even as much light as a
lamp."
"I do the best I can," said the candle, "and I can be
easily carried from room to room. Nurse uses me when
she gives the children a drink of water at night, or sees
that they are snugly covered up in bed. I do the best I
can."
"That's true," said the bird, and away he flew, think-
ing, as he saw the many lights here and there, little and
great, *'All are helpers!"
XI
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
"What man tries to represent, he begms to understand."
Froebel
WE learn by doing" is one of the slogans of mod-
ern education. It is the method of Nature's
school. This kind of schooling began when children first
tried to do what father and mother were doing. It is
the best method we know to-day. Froebel was the first
among educators to call attention to the educational
value of imitation. Many psychologists and teachers
since his day have written on the significance of this
instinct. Whether we class imitation as a fundamental
instinct or a modification of some other, we cannot fail
to recognize it as a child's instinctive method of making
acquaintance with the world. Were it not for this tend-
ency of children to learn by doing, the task of educa-
tion would be much more difficult. "At the imitative
stage," says Froebel, "you may accomplish by a touch
light as a feather what later you cannot do with a hun-
dred weight of words."
A little girl learns how to hem a towel by seeing
mother do it. She polishes the spoons or washes the
glasses as mother does it. She learns good ways of doing,
or slipshod ways, according to her model.
The little boy uses the tools as father does. He learns
a multitude of things by following and working with his
88
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
elders in field, barn, and shop. What are some of the
lessons acquired by this method of imitation?
1. Knowledge of things.
2. Knowledge of work.
3. Courtesy.
4. Standards of conduct.
5. Making of personality.
Country children and city children have different
plays, because environment furnishes different stimuli
for imitative play. Consequently they acquire knowledge
of different things. Playing policeman, playing "drunk,"
and making arrests are forms of play often seen in city
streets. The quarrels of the tenement house are repeated
in the plays of the children. The slum stamps itself on
the new generation through play imitation of its speech
and ways of living.
The country child, who has birds and squirrels and
the activities of the farm as his play incentives, has a
better chance of storing up desirable knowledge.
I spent one summer at a seashore place where there
was a considerable artist colony. Artists camped on the
beach daily under large umbrellas. Soon small sunshades
appeared and two little girls started on their art career,
furnished with a large sheet of paper and a box of paints.
They held up pencils to measure distance and worked
in blue for sea and sky after the manner of their models.
In a country village some city visitors introduced a
tennis court for the first time. It was not long before a
second court was seen in the village street. The village
boys had marked off their court and made a net of twine
and wooden racquets. Invention had been called into
89
TAXKS TO MOTHERS
play and knowledge gained of materials and manu-
facture.
A little boy taken to the city for a visit was greatly
interested in the construction of a subway. For a long
time thereafter he converted the back stairs into a sub-
way and played there for hours. He was constructor of
the subway, motorman, and conductor in turn.
The trade plays of the kindergarten illustrate Froe-
bel's method of interesting children in work and proc-
esses of work. To be a farmer, a baker, a blacksmith, a
carpenter, is to understand what all these workmen are
doing. Through the play comes a desire to know what
materials they use^ where these materials are found, and
what is done with them. Seeing work is a step toward
doing work. As the imitation of work processes is pro-
longed and worked out in play, it merges into real work
and a joy in doing, which is the best training for in-
dustry.
The incentive for the play is gained from the environ-
ment. The value of the play for young children is greatly
increased by the interest of the mother and her sugges-
tions. A song of the blacksmith and a rhyme for the
carpenter, a see-saw for sawing wood, a rat-a-tap-tap
for the cobbler, takes little of the mother's time and
helps the process of a child's learning.^
Every mother desires her children to have good man-
ners. She wishes them to be well-behaved. Does she
reflect that she, herself, is giving the pattern? Loud
voices, strident tones, and poor English are copied by
listening and observant children. The schools may
^ See vol. V of this series. Songs vnth Music.
90
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
struggle in vain to teach grammatical speech to boys
and girls who hear a double negative in their homes.
Slang and strong adjectives are also copied.
In some households there is a game of adding a new
word to the vocabulary every day. At dinner-time each
one tries to introduce his new word into the conversation.
This puts a premium on reading and the use of the dic-
tionary. The elder brothers and sisters give copy to the
little ones. The family is not obliged to call every good
thing "nice" and every poor thing "fierce." Other qual-
ifying terms are discovered and used.
Intonation and inflection are copied.
The Enghsh people usually speak more pleasantly
than Americans because more attention is given to
speech in the English home. Children who hear pleasant
voices and good diction naturally adopt the same.
"Manners are not idle," says Tennyson, "but the
fruit of loyal nature and noble minds." The seeds of
courtesy lie in the loyal nature and noble mind : but the
outward forms are a matter of imitation. If the parents
treat their children with uniform courtesy, the children
respond. I know a mother with four sons who are uni-
formly polite. She never nags nor scolds them. She al-
ways addresses them as politely as she does an older
person. If an errand is to be done, she does not say,
"Here, you run upstairs and get my thimble"; but,
"Horace, will you be kind enough to get my thimble?"
There is never any reluctance. Horace goes gladly. She
never forgets to say " Good-morning " and " Good-night "
to them as she would to an honored guest, and they do
not forget the same gentle practice as they meet others.
91
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Politeness is to do and say
The kindest thing in the kindest way."
This rhyme is a good one for children to learn. It is
better to practice it. Its practice largely depends on the
manners of the parents and older persons in the home.
The kindest way is the finest expression of the kind
feeling.
The example of elders is important, not only in secur-
ing courteous forms of behavior, but in forming right
standards of conduct. What mother does makes more
impression than what mother says.
"Practice what you preach," "An ounce of example is
worth a ton of precept," are old proverbs. They speak
the wisdom of the ages and reinforce our belief in the
influence of imitation. Children copy their elders and
so come to understand their motives. Unconsciously
they form codes of action and standards of conduct.
"Why does she do this? If I do it I will know"; and
so the little one learns. And all the time he is making
himself. He is forming his personality.
Professor Baldwin, in "Mental Development in the
Child and the Race," says: "The point is this: the
child's personality grows: growth is always by action:
he clothes upon himself the scenes of his life and acts
them out: so he grows in what he is, what he under-
stands, and what he is able to perform."
A narrow personality results where there is restricted
copy. An only child should be allowed playmates to
enlarge his range of observation and his patterns of con-
duct. Exclusive friendships should be discouraged among
boys and girls, lest there be narrowed personality. A
92
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
large, full life in the home with fine examples of daily
living gives growing boys and girls materials for making
a fine personality. We grow into the likeness of what-
ever we observe daily, with admiration and love.
GUIDO AND HIS PUPIL ^
By Rev. Richard Metcalf
I WANT to tell you about a painter who lived in Italy
five hundred years ago. " Guido " was his name. At least
his mother always called him Guido, and therefore I pre-
fer to call him so, too. Yet if you should look at my copy
of his picture of "Jesus on the Mount of Transfigura-
tion," you would see on the back that it was painted by
"Fra Angelico," which was the new name his country-
men gave him when he grew up.
But for my part I think he must have been better
pleased with the name his mother called him by when
he was a boy — don't you.'^
This Guido loved painting. No one who ever saw his
pictures of Christ and the Holy Angels can doubt thaL
But there was something he loved still more — and that
was the Christ, saints, and angels whose portraits he
painted. He was not like some artists who must paint
something^ it matters little what, and who therefore are
as willing to put holy men and holy scenes on the canvas
as any other. On the contrary, you feel that he loved
holy things so much that besides thinking and talking
of them, he felt that he must paint them in order to
express his reverence and admiration.
1 From Every Other Sunday. The Unitarian Sunday School Society,
publishers.
93
TALKS TO MOTHERS
So he always used his art for reHgious purposes and in
the most religious spirit. He never touched pencil or
brush without first offering a prayer; and as he laid the
colors upon his pictures of some sacred scene, he turned
all his thoughts and imaginations to what is holy and
heavenly. It seemed a sacrilege to him that any save a
pure-minded man should try to represent the heavenly
beings; and if one of his pupils uttered an oath or a vul-
gar jest, or showed any sign of coarseness or vulgarity,
Guido banished him from the studio at once, or at least
forbade his having anything to do with the portrait of
a saint or angel. Over and over again he said to the young
men: "Only holy hands must paint a holy face. When
a wicked man draws a picture of the blessed Christ he
crucifies the son of God afresh and puts him to an open
shame."
But there was one pupil with whose character Guido
was not at all pleased, and yet he could not turn him
away. This was young Lorenzo, who was connected with
the ruling family of Florence; and the artist would have
been instantly banished from the city had he dared
banish this youth from the studio. So in spite of a vio-
lent, reckless temper, which continually showed itself
in angry words, quick blows, and fierce quarrels, Lorenzo
kept coming to the artist's room; and Guido was forced
to endure his presence and give him the instruction he
demanded. But for all that, the rules of the studio were
still enforced, and the young man was never allowed to
draw the features of saint or angel, much less of the
Holy Child Jesus. He could touch nothing but the trees,
rocks, or clouds that were introduced into the pictures,
94
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
or paint the likeness of some man or demon who fig-
ured in the scene. Thus, in the "Temptation of Jesus,"
Lorenzo was allowed to draw only the hkeness of the
Devil, and in the conflict which Saint Michael carried
on with the Dragon, he was forbidden to paint anything
except the hideous face of the fiend. In vain did he pro-
test against the rules that condemned him to this most
odious part of an artist's work. "It must be that or
nothing," the master replied. "In this studio of mine,
only holy hands shall touch the pencil to a holy face.'*
So the master kept on painting angels and growing more
angelic, and the pupil painted fiends till he began some-
what to resemble them himself.
But at last there came a change. While Guido was
frescoing the walls of Saint Mark's Convent in Florence,
he found a manuscript sermon of Tauler, the German
preacher, entitled "Holy Magic," and was led by curi-
osity about the name to read it through from beginning
to end. It was very short — in fact only about half as
long as this story — and therefore it was finished in a
very few minutes, but it was not forgotten through all
the remaining years of his life. For the "Holy Magic"
of which it told was the divine attraction in the face of
Jesus Christ. "Whoever looks at the Saviour, long and
steadily, begins to wish that he was like him," said the
preacher; "and if you look at him long and steadily
enough, you will actually become somewhat like him in
thoughts, feelings, and even in your very face." The ser-
mon closed with the New Testament words about be-
holding the glory of the Lord, and being changed by that
act into his "image," that is, into his likeness; for this
95
TALKS TO MOTHERS
is what was meant by "Holy Magic," and the preacher
asked everybody to practice it. "I'll try the virtues of
it as soon as I get home," said the artist to himself.
"I'll practice this magic on that pupil of mine, and put
its power to the test."
So on the morrow, as the pupils assembled in the
studio, the artist called Lorenzo to his side and bade
him give up the work on which he was engaged and paint
a picture of the Christ as he appeared to his disciples
on the mountain-top when he was transfigured before
them, and the fashion of his countenance was altered,
and his raiment was white and glistening. All who h^ard
the request were amazed at it, and the young man most
of all. He could not believe the master was in earnest.
It was a violation of the one law which had never been
broken in that room. He looked up to see if he could
have understood the order aright. But Guido merely
pointed to his own picture of the Transfiguration, and
signified his wish that Lorenzo should begin his task at
once.
And he did begin at once, with a mingling of eager-
ness, anxiety, and fear, such as he had never known
before; but as day followed day, he seemed no nearer
the end than he was at first. Seldom did artist ever make
slower progress. He would sit for an hour as if entranced
before the master's picture, and then would go off into
a day-dream about the glorified Christ, till the light
faded from the room, and the pupils went away, and he
was there alone without having drawn a line. Or if he
drew a little one day, he erased it the next, for he said,
"The Holy One is more beautiful than that."
HOW CHILDREN LEARN
Said the master one evening. "Lorenzo, have you
painted the Christ? "
"No, my master," he repHed; "He is too far away
from me."
"Then you must search for Him all the more," said
Guido.
And the next time, it was, "Have you finished the
Christ, Lorenzo.'^"
"No, my master; He is too high above me."
"Then you must climb all the higher," said Guido.
And^et again the question was, "Is that face drawn,
Lorenzo?"
. v"^"o, my master, I am not worthy to touch even the
hem of his garment."
"All the more reason why you should touch it," said
Guido. "She who touched that, you remember, was
healed."
So week followed week, with very few changes on the
canvas, but a great many changes in Lorenzo's nature,
till at last he seemed as if the countenance of Jesus had
been photographed on his mind. Then he began in real
earnestness to paint, and seldom ceased his labors from
the earliest dawn of light till the darkness forced him to
lay aside the brush. It was done at last; and a more
beautiful, loving, inspiring face has not often looked out
of canvas. No pupil in Florence had ever achieved so
marked a success, and the studio was crowded with citi-
zens who were loud in expressing their delight. Guido
himself praised it the most warmly of any, and declared
that few, if any, of the masters in that day could sur-
pass it.
97
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Yet, among the young man's friends, the change in
his character seemed more marvelous than his new
genius for painting. One after another tried to account
for it, but in vain. Guido alone knew the secret, and he
would not tell it to the world. "It is the *Holy Magic,' "
he whispered to himself. "Lorenzo has beheld the Lord's
glory till he is changed into the Lord's likeness."
xn
THE LISTENING CHILD
" Good stories enrich the mind with concrete types of character which
interpret human nature, and with concrete situations which interpret
the problems of human life. The merit of a story is, that it wins by
allurement. It announces no moral imperative, but appeals to admi-
ration, hope, and love."
Susan E. Blow
A COLLECTION of children's poems has been
given the happy title of "The Listening Child."
Children love to listen to rhymes and poems, but they
listen to many other things also. Froebel called the
young child, with his eager desire to see everything
about him, *' an eye." The child might also be called '*an
ear." He is always looking out upon the new and won-
derful world in which he finds himself. He is also listen-
ing all the time. Do we always realize this when we dis-
cuss all manner of topics in the presence of a child .^ Do
we think that he is really forming his ideas of people and
things from what his elders are saying? The old saying,
"Little pitchers have big ears," is a warning to older
people to avoid bitter comment, slander, and gossip in
the presence of children. Mrs. X's quarrels with her
husband or her treatment of her mother-in-law do not
afford good material for furnishing a child's mind. Not
only is there danger of innocent repetition, but of giving
wrong views of the world.
Wordsworth has written much of the influence on
99
TALKS TO MOTHERS
character of lovely scenes from meadow, field, and
grove. He speaks of the mind as
" A mansion for all lovely forms, —
The soul a dwelling-place for all sweet sounds and harmonies."
The seeing child is all the time painting scenes to
hang on the walls of his mind mansion. He is painting
them from all he sees. The garden of flowers, the meadow
dotted with daisies, the purple mountains, and the
glowing sunset make beautiful pictures. These abide and
make the world seem a lovely place in which to live. Bill-
boards and lurid pictures from illustrated papers also
become a part of the child's being and are wrought into
the fabric of his life.
Walt Whitman writes of the seeing and Hstening child
thus:
"There was a child went forth every day
And the first object he looked upon and received with wonder, pity,
love, or dread, that object he became.
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of
the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
"The early lilacs became part of this child.
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red
clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird."
Do you try to make the table talk worth while and
to keep it on subjects suitable for children to hear .5^
Those are fortunate children who can recall the bits of
news, the talks of famous men and events, the stories
that father told at dinner or in a winter's evening. More
fortunate are those who begin their history and geog-
raphy with the fascinating "Tales of a Grandfather.'*
Look at the picture of little Walter Raleigh lying on the
100
THE LISTENING CHILD
sands, listening to the tales or the Jolly Tar! The boy's
eager eyes seem to be looking upon the distant scenes
described. His ears are open to hear all that is told. The
tiny boat with which he plays deepens his love of the sea
and his desire to sail over it to find out what is beyond.
America was his dream. Did the stories of brave deeds
help to form the gallant youth who spread his cloak to
keep the feet of England's queen from the wet street?
Did the tales of the sea foster the love of adventure of
the great explorer, Sir Walter Raleigh?
The person with a story is the person most loved by
children. Thrice blessed is the mother who has many
stories.
Like Silas Wegg she should be able to drop into
poetry and into stories. She need not be versed in liter-
ature, nor does she need to take much time from her
busy day. "A twice-told tale" is better than a new tale.
"Tell it again" is the constant response of a listening
child. A book of children's tales is a good handbook for
a mother and better worth her while than a popular
magazine.
Mother Goose is the beginning of song and story for
children. Her rhymes and jingles will always be a part
of the mother's store. A small boy of unusually active
mind began at the age of three to ask constantly for his
"Mamma Goose book" and his "post-cardies." He
loved to listen to Mother Goose rhymes and later en-
joyed other rhymes and poems. Picture post-cards gave
him an interest in buildings, bridges, parks, and streets
in Boston, New York, Chicago, London, and Paris.
A little girl who had been brought up on what she
101
TALKS TO MOTHERS
called "The Child's Poerty Book," was overjoyed one
winter's morning to see the city covered by a mantle of
snow. "Oh, mamma!" she cried. "Look at the posts!
They make me think of my poerty book, where it says :
" Last night they looked like hooded monks
And now they look like ghosts!"
This listening child had gained love of poetry from her
mother's reading.
Can we overestimate the value of such a life posses-
sion? The outer surroundings may be bare and bleak:
but within is a land of beauty. Sorrow can never lead to
despair, if one can retreat into a City of Refuge peopled
by fairies and good spirits, radiant with hope and filled
with song.
The world of fancy, is like the world of play, the
child's own world. The child, like early man, sees the
world as a place of wonder. He does not know what
things are, nor what they will do, but he imagines. He
makes myths or stories to explain what he sees. Do not
fear that rhymes and fanciful tales will lead away from
truth. Facts are acquired as facts. Imagination has its
Dlace in childhood.
A few years ago this editorial appeared in The Out-
look, which I commend to all who deal with children:
"The newspapers report that a good woman in Massa-
chusetts, desirous of advancing the interests of the race,
proposes to undertake a campaign for the abolition of
* Mother Goose,' * Alice in Wonderland,' and other
stories of a similar kind. She declares that these stories
are lies, and ought not to be tolerated. The same peri-
odicity which rules in all things brings around at inter*
THE LISTENING CHILD
vals some literal-minded person who is apparently
utterly unable to understand how children are made,
what the needs of the human soul are, and the difference
between falsehood and fiction. This good woman, with
the best heart in the world, proposes to close the win-
dows through which children look out on the imaginary
world. It would really be as rational to abolish play
because it is not work as to abolish fiction because it is
not fact. If there ever was a time in the history of this
country when the creative faculty needed culture, it is
surely to-day. It would be the greatest blessing if a
group of creative men and women would appear at this
time, dealing, not with facts as they appear to the
literal-minded, but as they stand in the order revealed
by the imagination. When Mr. Gradgrind appears, from
time to time, the worst of him is not that he is deadly
uninteresting, but that he makes men unhappy by clos-
ing the windows and suffocating them; and the worst
thing about Coketown is that there is no place for chil-
dren in it. Everybody is dealing with facts from morning
until night, the air is black over the town, there are no
stars with those wonderful stories which make them
dear to the young imagination, there are no adventures
of the spirit; there is nothing but hard toil by hard hands
directed by hard brains. * Mother Goose' stands for a
great principle, a great faculty, a great service, and a
great need. She is a symbol of the life of the imagination.
Any attempt to abolish her is as futile as the historic
effort of the good lady of the strong will and the tireless
broom who proposed to keep out the Atlantic.'*
Fairy tales belong to children by divine right. Ches-
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
terton says that fairyland is tlie sunny land of common
sense. He finds his philosophy of life in fairy tales.
"*Jack the Giant-Killer * teaches us a truth much
needed to-day, that giants should be killed because
they are gigantic. * Cinderella' repeats the theme of the
'Magnificat': *He hath exalted the humble.' * Beauty
and the Beast' tells us that a thing must be loved be-
fore it is lovable. * Sleeping Beauty' brings us the
comforting assurance that death may be a sleep."
In other chapters I shall speak of the moral value
of the story and of the place of books. Here I would like
to make you see the value of telling stories in your home.
Fortunate the little being in whose family there is
some story-teller able to give the bread which feeds!
In "Sartor Resartus" — that excellent pedagogic trea-
tise — Carlyle gives a vivid picture of such a fortunate
childhood. The mysterious stranger who left the infant
as an invaluable loan for the good Father Andreas and
the Mother Gretchen selected a favorable environment
for the growth and development of the child. The sun-
set sky with hues of gold and azure, viewed from the
orchard wall where the boy had his supper; the brave
old linden towering up from the village agora like a
sacred tree; the swallows which come with the month
of May; the Harvest Home and other festivities, all
supplied influences conducive to the culture of body
and mind. But best of all were those "twice-told tales"
which opened up the world of the past and the great
world of the far-away. Carlyle says: "Doubtless as
childish sports call forth intellect and activity, so the
young creature's imagination was stirred, and a his-
104
THE LISTENING CHILD
torical tendency awakened by the narrative habit of
Father Andreas, who, with his battle reminiscences,
and gray, austere, and yet hearty patriarchal aspect,
could not but appear another Ulysses, a much-enduring
man. Eagerly I hung upon his tales, when listening
neighbors lingered near the hearth. From these travels,
wide and far almost as Hades itself, a dim world of ad-
venture expanded within me. Incalculable also was the
knowledge I gained from the old men under the linden
tree. The whole of immensity was new to me, and had
not these reverend seniors, talkative enough, been em-
ployed in partial surveys for fourscore years? With
amazement I began to discover that Entepfuhl stood
in the middle of a country and of a world; that there
was such a thing as history and geography to which I
might one day by word and tongue contribute." \Miat
an illustration of the natural method of gaining one's
knowledge of the world and of life ! It is a method hon-
ored by long usage, and dates back to those early days
when fathers instructed their children through legends,
and bards and minstrels wandered from place to place
narrating the exploits of heroes, stirring the souls of
their listeners to deeds of love and war. The interest in
such tales will never wane.
The culture of the imagination is especially necessary
in a land where we boast the biggest buildings, the
longest railroads, the most complete subways, and the
richest men in the world. \Mien the practical invades
at every point even into the toy world, where the latest
events are chronicled in the shape of aeroplanes. Cook's
sledges, Vanderbilt dolls and Kermit lions, special
105
TALKS TO MOTHERS
effort is needed to keep children in the realm of fancy
which is theirs by right of eminent domain. The pathetic
lines of Charles Kingsley could be revised to-day:
"I lost my poor little doll, dears.
As I went to the shops one day.
For I found she was all out of date, dears.
So I had to put her away:
For kangaroos, lions, and bears, dears.
Are now quite the thing, they say.
But for old time's sake, just once, dears,
I should like to have dolly and play."
If a boy is unable to manage these intricate mechan-
isms, falsely classed as toys, he can have cowboys and
cavalrymen mounted on horses, with heads that come
off in case any of them are slain. Shades of the prison-
house! One cannot even imagine a dead soldier: but
press or turn a peg and the head comes off. All the more
need of a continuous course in fairy tales, myths,
legends, fables, and nonsense rhymes, beginning with
Mother Goose, that depository of the wisdom of the
ages touched with the magic gold of childhood.
We may be able to supplant the repartee of Kidville
and the rhymes of Foxy Grandpa, by other equally
rhythmic verses; as, for instance:
"Peterkin Paul was so very polite
That he said to the stones on the street,
'Excuse me, I pray, for stepping on you.
But there's no other place for my feet.'"
Wonder rhymes and tales are desirable in an age
which attempts to explain everything even to babes
and sucklings. Let us still believe and say that it is a
** Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world."
106
THE LISTENING CHILD
The stories should be true in that deep sense in which
Hans Andersen says of his tales, "And this is a true
story." They should conform to that truth which abides
when so-called facts change and vanish, like certain
phenomena of the North Pole. The ideals of the story
should be those which furnish helps over the hard places
of everyday life. They should make compelling the in-
ward injimction, "Go, and do thou, likewise."
xm
THE STORY
"A story, when used at the proper time, is a mirror for the mind.'*
Froebel
WE do not need to create a story interest among
children. It is forever there. The land of fancy
is the land in which they mostly dwell. To the child
of to-day, as of yore, the thunder is the voice of Jove,
and the lightning the arrows of his wrath; the sky is
the floor of heaven, and the stars the lamps hung out
to light the traveler in the dark. The floating cloud,
moving from hill to hill and lighting on each one, is
the winged horse which bears some noble hero on his
quest. The sea is full of mermaidens, who rock them-
selves to sleep among the billows and dance in the
twilight on the shore behind the curtain of the mist.
Every tree has its dr^^ad, and every fountain its nymph.
The fairies dance under the spreading tree, and the
rivers run on golden feet shod with the wealth of Midas.
It is a "great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world," and
the story is forever the natural form of its interpreta-
tion. As an agency of the school there is danger that
it may be sacrificed sometimes to the teacher's zeal to
impart information of the useful order or to teach scieg^
tific facts, or it may be subjected to the analytic m^^hod
destructive of the life and interest of any subJ6i^.,The
story is not a means of didactic instruction, nor a me-
108
THE STORY
dium of conveying knowledge to unwilling minds, but
rather, as Froebel says, "it is a strengthening bath for
the mind," a means of self -disco very, self-expression,
and self -expansion. There is less temptation to pervert
the story in the home than in the schoolroom. The in-
trusion of the didactic and scientific is less possible.
The mother should be "the person with the story."
All depends upon her choice of a story. In content and
form it must be suitable to the age of her hearers. It
must be simple, dramatic, and full of fancy.
Animal life possesses an absorbing interest for young
children. For generations the popular vote has favored
such tales as "Chicken Little," "The Little Red Hen,"
"Three Pigs," and many others. Such modern tales as
"The Kitten Who Forgot to Mew," "Little Black
Sambo," and the Br'er Rabbit series have secured the
stamp of approval from many groups of children. Let
us not fail to add "Jungle" stories, and "Just So
Stories," and even some of those more advanced tales
such as "Lobo and the Wolf."
The picture story has always been a favorite since
the time the cave dwellers scratched on their rocky
walls outlines of the animals they hunted, and the
strange things they had seen, and rehearsed their ad-
ventures to their children. "Little Black Sambo" is
an excellent type of this kind of story where the in-
terest is sustained by suspended narration, and by
fteljuent pictures. A sharp stick, and the sand of the
se^sEb^, OP the playground sand-heap, when smoothed
andT)repared by the children, offer a good opportunity
for crude illustration, and may beget some sand artists
lOd
TALKS TO MOTHERS
among the children. A piece of colored crayon and a
sheet of rough paper may occasionally be used also.
The argument for the Sunday colored supplement
rests on the delight of the children in adventure, and it
is assumed that the rude and disgraceful deeds of
Buster Brown and his colleagues, and the sad plight
of their venerable victims, are the kinds of adventure
demanded. The flaunting colors are added to satisfy
the barbaric taste which is supposed to survive in the
young of every generation. The sanity of this argument
is only rivaled by that which responds to an American
boy's delight in noise and to his stage of racial develop-
ment by furnishing him w^ith cannon crackers and air
guns to celebrate the birth of our National Independ-
ence, while most of his neighbors lament, for that day
at least, that they were not born in any other country
where independence is not confounded with license and
patriotism is not expressed by explosives.
The schools teach harmony of color and design. The
taxpayer furnishes such teaching to educate his chil-
dren in art, and then vainly hopes that such knowledge
will be more effective in awakening the color sense and
appreciation of art than the constant appeal to the eye
made by the barbaric colors and the monstrous draw-
ings sti'etched out on the porch and in every room
where a Sunday paper is taken, "to please the children."
That children delight in color and adventure is true.
It is equally true that both must be supplied, and the
story is a right medium. Would that the skill that
artists now employ in devising tricky and vulgar situ-
ations could be turned in the direction of illustrating
110
THE STORY
some of the old fairy and hero tales which are full of
interesting and delightful scenes ! Would there be a dim-
inution of revenue for the Sunday supplement if it
gave a course of sketches from "Cinderella," "Jack
and the Bean Stalk," "Sleeping Beauty," "Jason and
the Golden Fleece," tales of Theseus and Perseus, and
made a serial story of the adventures of Siegfried, The
Cid, Achilles, and King Arthur? For the very little
ones, the old picture-books with rhyme stories, or the
scrap-book made by the mother herself with picture
stories, are a perennial delight. Mother Goose, the
"Sing-Song" of Christina G. Rossetti, and other jingles
are often desirable, as steps to the real story, and a
means of gaining power of attention. A kindergartner
in one of the centers of foreign population, where the
children knew little English and had few ideas with
which to interpret tales, found herself obliged to begin
with such a simple story as,
"I had a little doggie once.
Who used to sit and beg.
My little doggie fell downstairs.
And broke his little leg."
The mental pictures suggested were familiar, and the
'children understood and listened with delight and called
for the story again and again. Gradually they listened to
longer rhymes, and eventually to a simple story. If the
children do not enjoy a story, it is the fault of the
narrator. She has not chosen the right story. Maybe
the story goes "over the heads" of her hearers, as we
say. Maybe its theme is not one to interest young
children.
Ill
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Much depends on the manner of teUing. The story-
teller should know her story so well that she does not
hesitate for a phrase nor stumble over a situation. She
should use simple language, avoiding words the mean-
ing of which would be unknown to her hearers. She
should be dramatic. That sounds like a difficult de-
mand. It is not. Any one who really sees a situation
can describe it in a vivid way. He can picture it so well
that another person can see it too. That is dramatic art.
K you have ever heard a person who has been in a rail-
way accident tell what happened, you have had a
dramatic story. If you have heard the account from
some one who has it second-hand, you have probably
missed much of the dramatic interest.
Pause in the telling of the story just before some im-
portant happening and you will arrest attention. A
question often helps too; as, "Where could he go then?"
or, "What do you think he did?" After children have
become familiar with a story, they like to supply a
missing word; as, "The Duck family lived in the . . .";
"Mother Duck said to her baby ducks: *My children,
now you must . . .' " Good phrasing and inflection add
to the interest and value of the story.
Little David loved to hear stories told or read. A new
helper came into the family who was not a fluent reader.
David asked for a story, but said, "I don't want her
to read to me."
Do not hesitate to tell the same old stories over and
over. Children love twice-told tales. They love them
better as they grow more familiar with the scenes and
the personages. They love the oft-repeated form of
lis
THE STORY
words. For this reason a story with much repetition is
desirable, as "The Little Red Hen," "The House that
Jack Built," "The Pig and the StHe" and "The Tree
and the Nest."
Mothers should know many stories. They should
love their stories and live with them.
Would that all mothers were like Barrie's mother,
who made him see the towm in which he lived through
her eyes by the charming stories she told him of its
past and the people who used to live there! Your best
story begins: "WTien I was a little girl."
Stories are the beginning of literature. Mothers who
tell stories are the first teachers of literature. They give
their children the key to the great realm where dwell
the great and mighty of all times.
XIV
THE DREAMER
"Why William on that old gray stone.
Thus for the length of half a day.
Why William sit you thus alone.
And dream your time away?"
Wordsworth
ONCE there were two boys who hved in the same
home. One was quick, alert, and ready to help.
He had "gumption." He knew what to do with his
hands. He helped his father in the barn and in the shed,
and did his work well. He was never in the way of his
mother. He did his task and then ran out to play. He
could run fast. He could make high jumps. He could hit
a mark with an arrow or a ball. "A fine lad," said his
father. "He will make a man." And he did. He became a
good business man, energetic in his work, prosperous
and respected by his fellow townsmen.
And the other boy.^ The other boy was a dreamer.
He worried his mother because he "sat around" so
much. He did not care to run and jump and climb trees.
He could not do any of these things well. He was clumsy
when he tried to do jobs, and did not see things to do.
He was sometimes found in the attic, lying on the floor,
leaning on his elbow reading an old book. Sometimes
he fled to the deep woods to lie on the ground and watch
the clouds sailing in the sky. He loved flowers and birds
and spent hours watching them. Sometimes he scribbled
114
THE DREAMER
something on odd sheets of paper which he would hide
away when any one looked.
He was slow at school and the teacher thought he
would never "get on." "A dull lad," said his father.
"What will become of him?"
But the mother loved this dull lad. She bought him
books and gave him a desk and a quiet corner to keep by
himself.
This lad became a singer of sweet songs and his words
were sung around the world.
The Bible story of Joseph tells us of such a dreamer.
His brothers were good workmen, who bound their
sheaves and did not trouble themselves about dreams.
"But Joseph dreamed a dream and he told it to his
brethren: and they hated him yet the more. And he
dreamed yet another dream, and he told it to his father
and his brethren. And his brethren envied him; but his
father observed the saying."
The father loved the dreamer more than all his chil-
dren; but his hard-working brethren scorned him. "Be-
hold the dreamer cometh," they said in derision, and
they cast him into a pit, thinking to be rid of him and
his troublesome dreams forever.
But Joseph's dreams became the means of saving
his own life and the lives of all his brethren. Because he
dreamed dreams and thought upon them, he was able
to interpret the dreams of the chief butler and of King
Pharaoh himself.
The boy who dreamed and who learned to interpret
dreams found that they all came true. He became ruler
of Egypt. He remembered his dreams and stored food
115
TALKS TO MOTHERS
against the time of famine. When his brethren came
to him for food, he remembered the dreams which he
dreamed of them. They bowed to him even as he
dreamed and the dreamer had the power to rule over
them and to help them.
The dreaming child is often difficult to understand
and difficult to manage.
"I don't wish to go to kindergarten to-day," said
little Paul one morning.
"Why not?" asked his mother. "You have always
liked to go."
"Oh, she disturbs me," said Paul. "She says, *Paul,
Paul, why don't you attend to me?' I don't wish to
attend to her. I am making plans."
All Pauls are trying, no doubt. Is it wise sometimes to
try to find out what their plans are rather than to force
ours upon them?
REMEMBERING OUR CHILDHOOD
If we recall our own childish feelings of wonder and
deUght over many things we saw and heard, it will
help us to understand the wondering child. Agnes
Edwards writes sympathetically of the feelings of the
child who is sensitive to the world of w^onders. She
says:
"It is curious that grown people foi^et so soon the
delights and griefs of childhood. They forget the vague
feeling of bewilderment that creeps up from all sides
when one is beginning to get acquainted with the
world. They forget the utter bHss of swinging in an
old hammock under the trees, and gazing up into the
116
THE DREAMER
sky and crooning some song with a long monotonous
refrain.
*'They forget the feeHng of isolation and self -com-
pleteness of living with one's fancies — during that
mystical time when the real things are the things that
grown-up people never see, and when common events,
like washing one's face and coming in on time to meals,
are quite unimportant and uninteresting. And they for-
get that sense of complete trust and faith with which a
child puts her sleepy arms around her mother's neck and
is carried upstairs and slipped into bed in a dozy haze of
comfort.
"Surely grown people must forget all these things or
they would never break so rudely in upon the reveries
of their children, suggesting the moving-picture show
to replace the visions that float by the eyes of every
child — offering fancy creams and college ices to one
who is quite content with the sprinkle of sugar on a
rose leaf.
"I saw a child the other evening who is everything
we mean when we say *a lovely child.' She has lived all
of her five years in the country with her mother as a
companion and gentle guide. This little girl has for toys
her flower-bed and her own watering-pot; she knows
every tree for acres around, and each soft baby leaf is
welcomed with a ripple of delight, or with the gentlest
touch of tiny fingers. The soft grass is caressingly loved,
and each wee green thing that pushes its head up
through the earth is anxiously waited for and tenderly
guarded.
"Can you think of anything more exquisite than a
117
TALKS TO MOTHERS
little child who feels a kinship with everything in
Nature? Can you think of a better school in gentle-
ness than the garden, or a wiser teacher of observation
than Nature herself in pasture or in wood?"
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE
We should be less impatient with the dreaming child
if we realized to what his dreaming may lead.
Thomas x\quinas was called a cow by his teachers
because he seemed so dull and far away. He was really
thinking the long thoughts which led to his later med-
itations. These have become a world possession.
I suppose Watt's grandmother was a good deal dis-
turbed when the boy fussed around the kitchen stove
with her tea-kettle.
Was any one disturbed by the dreams of little
Christopher as he sat on the sands looking far across
the sea, dreaming of the lands beyond?
Annie E. Allen, in "St. Nicholas," has pictured him
thus:
"O little lad of Genoa,
Did you not dream when still a child
Of ships that onward sailed and sailed —
Of gleaming pearls — of forests wild?
"Did splendid lands no eye had seen,
As fair as morning, bless your view?
Did you not often dream and dream
Until it seemed your dream came true?
"O little lad of Genoa,
Of what avail skill, compass, chart?
Steadfast, could you have found your goal
Without the dream that filled your heart?"
118
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THE FIRST INSPIRATIONS OF COLUMBUS
THE DREAMER
Hans Andersen was a dreamy, awkward boy. His
sufferings are hinted in "The Ugly Duckling":
"And the Duckling sat in a corner and was mel-
ancholy; then the fresh air and the sunshine streamed
in; and it was seized with such a strange longing to
swim on the water, that it could not help telling the
Hen of it.
"*What are you thinking of?' cried the Hen. 'You
have nothing to do, that 's why you have these fancies.
Purr or lay eggs, and they will pass over.'
"*But it is so charming to swim on the water!"
said the Duckling; *so refreshing to let it close above
one's head, and to dive down to the bottom.'
"*Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure truly,' quoth
the Hen. 'I fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the
Cat about it — he 's the cleverest animal I know —
ask him if he likes to swim on the water, or to dive
down: I won't speak about myself. Ask our mistress,
the old woman; no one in the world is cleverer than she.
Do you think she has any desire to swim, and to let
the water close above her head.-^'
"*You don't understand me,' said the Duckling.
"*We don't understand you? Then pray who is to
understand you? You surely don't pretend to be cleverer
than the Tom Gat and the old woman — I won't say
anything of myself. Don't be conceited, child, and be
grateful for all the kindness that you have received.
Did you not get into a warm room, and have you not
fallen into company from which you may learn some-
thing? But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to
associate with you. You may believe me, I speak for
119
TALKS TO MOTHERS
your good. I tell you disagreeable things, and by that
one may always know one's friends. Only take care
that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out
sparks ! '
"*I think I will go out into the wide world,' said the
Duckling.
"'Yes, do go,' replied the Hen."
THE CHILD WHO WONDERS
In Dickens's "Child's Dream of a Star" he describes
the child who dreams of what is beyond the world of
sense :
"There was once a child, and he strolled about a
good deal, and thought of a number of things. He had a
sister, who was a child too, and his constant companion.
These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered
at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the
height and blueness of the sky; they wondered at the
depth of the bright water; they wondered at the good-
ness and the power of God who made the lovely
world.
"They used to say to one another, sometimes. Sup-
posing all the children upon earth were to die, would
the flowers, and the water, and the sky be sorry .^ For,
said they, the buds are the children of the flowers, and
the httle playful streams that gambol down the hill-
sides are the children of the water; and the smallest
bright specks, playing at hide and seek in the sky all
night, must surely be the children of the stars; and they
would all be grieved to see their playmates, the children
of men, no more."
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THE DREAMER
The child who wonders and questions has started
on the road that leads to a vision of the divine.
Beware lest we hinder this quest by neglect or by
foolish answers to the wonder questions !
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky."
Froebel says: "As the child looks out into the new and
strange world he seeks explanations of all he sees. He
accepts what is told him whether true or false. It is im-
portant for his understanding that the truth should be
told him. It makes a difference whether he looks for the
man in the moon, or whether he looks upon the moon
as a beautiful, swimming ball of hght, whether the stars
are golden pins or lamps, or whether they are distant,
glowing suns. The first explanation is dead, although
it seems to connect with life; the latter has within it
the seed of truth and further development. Truth never
does harm, but error does even if later it leads to truth.
As far as they can comprehend, children should have
the truth."
THE GARDEN OF BLUEBELLS
By Isa L. Wright
Once in the days of Long Ago, there lived a wee man
in a wee house. The house was old and the wee man
was old, but his heart was as young as the springtime,
and as glad as the bluebells growing in his garden.
Such wonderful bluebells they were, deeply blue, like
the springtime skies, and a touch of gold at their
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
hearts like the sunbeams that shone upon them. From
far and wide people flocked to see them, and whenever
they entered the garden, the bluebells seemed to ring
a welcome as they swayed in the morning breeze, and
folks did declare they could hear them sing, "Come,
joy with us, for it is springtime ! It is springtime ! "
And springtime it seemed to be for them always. Sum-
mer and winter alike they blossomed on. Although snow
covered the ground elsewhere, it always melted on the
garden plot where the bluebells were growing. All the
year round they looked up at the blue sky or nodded to
the merry country folks who came to walk among them.
"They are bewitched!*' said one and all; "but it is a
sweet witchery that keeps us all glad."
And now it chanced one morning that a certain rich
man passed by and heard the happy voices of those who
made merry among the flowers. He stamped the snow
from his feet as he came up the garden path and it
melted into wee drops of water that glistened in the
sun.
"Bluebells! and growing in the winter-time.'*" he
asked; "and how is that?"
"I know not how it be," smiled the wee man, "but it
seems to be their way to bloom always and to sing."
And from every little bluebell cup a wee voice sang to
the rich man, "Come, joy \vith us, for it is spring! It is
spring ! "
"Hear them!" said the wee man, and his face was
covered with the sunniest of smiles.
"I hear nothing," said the rich man, "but the soil
must be wonderful to grow flowers summer and winter.
122
THE DREAMER
A pity it be not planted to some more useful thing than
bluebells."
"Nay!" said the wee man, "but they keep all the
country folk glad with their blooming."
"And what matters that. 5^" The rich man frowned.
"Let the country folk seek elsewhere for their gladness.
I shall speak to the King about it. Magic ground should
be planted to better advantage. A wonderful crop of use-
ful things could this ground yield, summer and winter."
"An it please you," smiled the wee man again, "what
better could a garden yield than happiness.^"
"Many things," asserted the rich man as he turned
to go.
And it came to pass just as the rich man had said, for
when he returned, days afterward, he carried with him
huge bags of money. "The King sends you much gold in
exchange for your garden plot," he cried. "You can have
now all that heart could desire, and the garden will grow
useful crops for the King."
So the gardeners went to work with plough and spade
and they uprooted all the bluebells, and in their place
they planted cabbages and beets and turnips. And the
wee man stayed in the house and lighted his little stove
and sat down beside it. And when the country folks
came to walk again in the garden, they were sad, "Ah,
me!" they cried, "'tis spring no more, but winter."
And they shivered and went home.
And the next morning the snow fell thicker and faster.
It covered the beets and cabbages and the turnips with
a white mantle and it froze them stiff. And the rich man
came running quickly when he heard of it.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"There is a bluebell somewhere in the garden," he
told the wee man. "And it has bewitched the ground.
We must search for it."
And over the garden plot went the rich man and his
workers. They dug up the frozen cabbages and beets and
turnips and they spaded the hard ground, and just as
they were about to give up, a small voice sang out,
"Come, joy with me, for it is springtime! It is spring-
time!"
"Ah! My little bluebell!" cried the wee man, as he
bent down to it. But the rich man pulled it up and tore
the blossom from the stem and threw it out into the
street.
"Now the garden will grow useful things!" he said.
That night, when none were looking, the wee man
crept out to the street and picked up the bluebell root
and planted it in a little box. And it grew and blossomed
for him in the little wee house.
And once again in the garden plot they planted the
cabbages and beets and turnips. And no sooner were
they planted than there came a swarm of locusts. No
other garden did the locusts touch, but they ate all the
cabbages and the beets and the turnips, leaf and stem
and stalk, and left the ground bare and brown.
"Now, by my word!" vowed the rich man when he
heard of it, "'tis the wee man himself who has be-
witched the ground. He must be taken away that the
garden may grow its wonderful crop of useful things for
the King."
So again he came to the wee man with bags of money.
"The King sends you more gold," he said, "and he asks
124
THE DREAMER
that you journey to the castle court and there abide that
the garden may the better grow and yield wonderful
crops of useful things.*'
"An it please the King," answered the wee man, "I
will go." And underneath his coat he slipped the bluebell
plant.
And again they planted the garden with cabbages and
beets and turnips, but no sooner were they planted than
a fierce and blazing sun scorched the leaves and with-
ered them. It crackled the stems till they snapped, and
once again the ground was bare and brown.
"Somewhere there still lives one of the bluebells!"
shouted the rich man ; " an it take the half of my fortune,
I will find it. Who knows but what the wee man himself
is keeping it alive. I, myself, will journey to the King's
castle, and see the last bluebell torn root from flower."
Even as he spoke, he prepared to journey forth.
And while he journeyed, strange things were happen-
ing in the King's castle. In a wee hut in the outer court-
yard dwelt the wee man, and though no one knew it,
there dwelt with him the little bluebell. Every morning
it sang to him, and the wee man laughed as he joyed
with it. And as it sang one morning, the King's little
lame daughter passed by on her crutches, and, hearing
it, the little Princess came up the step and pushed the
door open, saying, "Please sing the song again, wee
man."
And the wee man helped her in as he said, "Nay,.
Princess, 't is not I who sing, but the bluebell." And he«
put it in her hand.
"Sing to me, little flower! " cried the King's daughter;
125
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and the bluebell sang again, " Come, joy with me, for it
is springtime! It is springtime!"
And the little Princess laughed and clapped her hands
and, forgetting all about her crutch, she danced around
the room as a happy little girl should do. And the wee
man danced with her. And when they were tired of danc-
ing, they sat down by the bluebell and the wee man told
her wonderful stories of the spring. And those without,
of the King's household, were searching for the little
Princess in every place where a King's daughter was
ever known to go, but they found her not.
And while they searched, the rich man came to the
King from out of his journeying, and many a complaint
had he to make of the bluebells and the wee man.
''Bother me not with your foolish bluebells!" cried
the King. "Mine own Httle daughter is lost and none can
find her."
Then the rich man came closer to the King. "If the
wee man," he said, "can bewitch a garden, may it not
be that he has bewitched the Princess as well? Let us
seek him."
So the King hastened to the hut where dwelt the wee
man, and boldly he pushed open the door. It was his
little daughter who danced to meet him. "Come, joy
with me!" she sang, "for it is springtime! It is spring-
time!"
"Your crutch, my child ! " cried the King.
But the Princess laughed. "I had forgotten it. Fa-
ther," she said as she ran to the bluebell. "See the wee
man's flower ! And it sings of the spring ! "
"Ah!" spoke the rich man, "said I not so? The wee
126
THE DREAMER
man's bluebell has bewitched the garden and now would
bewitch the Princess, too. Let us rend it bloom from
stem!"
But the Princess stood up straight and tall and her
eyes flashed. "You shall not touch the wee man's blue-
bell!" she said.
Then the King spoke. "Tell us, wee man, how can a
flower work such strange miracles?"
"That I know not, O King," answered the wee man.
" It is but a flower from my garden, with leaf and stem
and root like any other. Must it be destroyed because it
sings only of the springtime.'^"
But the King's little daughter shook her head. "It
shall live, wee man," she said, "and you and I together
will plant a garden full of bluebells. And they will sing
to us, and the King, my father, will walk among them
and they will sing to him. Where shall we plant it, wee
man?"
The wee man smiled. "An it please the King to grant
it, I should like mine own garden back. Though all lands
are fair, yet is there no place so dear as home."
"And you shall have your own back again," quoth
the King, "and a shame on me that I ever made you
sell it."
And so it all came to pass as the Princess and the King
had said. Bluebells once more filled the wee man's gar-
den and the country folk from near and far came back
with smiles on their faces and joy in their hearts. Sum-
mer and winter they blossom and sing to all who enter
the garden, "Come, joy with us, for it is springtime!
It is springtime!"
127
TALKS TO MOTHERS
And the King and the little Princess walk often with
the wee man among the bluebells, for where better could
a King and his royal little daughter walk than with those
who sing ever of the springtime?
XV
THE CHILD AND HIS BOOK
"My Book and Heart
Shall never part."
New England Primer
THE listening child naturally becomes the reading
child. Stories are the beginning of literature.
The interest aroused by the fireside tale carries over
into the enjoyment of books. Do you know that you
hold the key to the kingdom of books .^^ The reading
interest is not often acquired in the school if it has not
been awakened in the home. My experience of a quarter
of a century in dealing with young women has proved
to me that the friendship with books must be formed in
the family circle. The joy in books is a joy which cannot
be taken away. The enrichment of life which comes from
wide reading is better than any other wealth. The
meager vocabulary of many young men and women is
due to meager reading. Facility in expression and cor-
rectness in language come from the assimilation of
style and thought of good authors.
"Reading maketh a full man, writing an exact man,"
says Lord Bacon. Both are necessary for a good edu-
cation. Both should be acquired in the home circle.
The early joy in a story becomes a permanent source
of happiness when the child can read. A new door is
opened to a realm wide as the world "peopled with the
great and mighty of every realm and clime." The love
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
of books is contagious. Father and mother communi-
cate it to children.
Professor Selah Howell, a teacher in the Boston
Latin School, read with his children every evening for
an hour. In his will is the following clause: "To my
three children, Fred Bardwell, Fanny Edna, and Wil-
liam Westcott, the following books as souvenirs of the
happy days of their childhood when we read them to-
gether — the books to be apportioned as they may
agree: 'Volume of the Nursery,' 'Robinson Crusoe,'
*The Swiss Family Robinson,' * Little Lord Fauntleroy,'
'Little Women,' 'Little Men,' 'Joe's Boys,' 'Jack and
Jill,' 'Tom Brown's School Days.' 'The RoUo Books'
I give to the one of my children who has the most
children. If none of them have children, which God
forbid, the 'RoUo Books' are to be divided equally
among the joys of my life, the said Fred, Fanny, and
Will." Could any father leave any richer inheritance
to his children?
The home library may be small; perhaps better so,
because the books will be read and re-read. Abraham
Lincoln formed his thought and his style, which has
never been surpassed, from much reading of these
books: "The Bible," ".Esop," "Pilgrim's Progress,"
"Robinson Crusoe," a book of history, and Weems's
"Life of Washington" — a limited list! But these
books gave great thoughts to a boy's soul and made a
great man. Another great American, Theodore Roose-
velt, owed much to the companionship of books. Books
accompanied him on his long exploring trip when bag-
gage was reduced to a minimun. His "pigskin library"
130
THE CHILD AND HIS BOOK
which he took on his African expedition has become
famous. Many of the books are beyond the interest
of the average boy or man. We are glad, however, to
find some of our favorite titles, " AHce in Wonderland,"
"Through the Looking Glass," Shakespeare, Homer's
"Ihad," "Odyssey," Longfellow, Tennyson, Mark
Twain's "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Saw^^er,"
Scott's "Guy Mannering" and "Waverley," "Rob
Roy" and "Antiquary," Dickens's "Mutual Friend'*
and "Pickwick." Roosevelt says of his books: "They
were for use, not for ornament. I almost always had
some volume with me, either in my saddle-pocket or
in the cartridge-bag which one of my gun-bearers
carried to hold odds and ends. Often my reading would
be done while resting under a tree at noon." Such a
love of books was the result of a boyhood of reading.
A settlement worker in a crowded quarter of a great
city was so successful in his book-club that soap-boxes
were in great request for home libraries. One little
girl begged the club leader to come and see her library.
With joy she showed a clean soap-box with one shelf
inserted on which was one paper book. It was a good
beginning of a library because the desire for collecting
was there. The instinct for collecting should be utilized
in acquiring picture-books and other books. A shelf
in the sitting-room or a box made into a bookcase is
the stimulus to the making of a library. The library-
grows slowly by the addition of birthday books and
Christmas books, but these books are prized more be-
cause they are few and gradually acquired. Time is
necessary for the assimilation of mental food as it is for
131
TALKS TO MOTHERS
bodily food. You mothers must aid in a wise selection.
The appetite for tales must be fed. If neither home nor
school does anything to satisfy this appetite, the boy
f«€ds himself. He spends a dime on the "Adventures of
Old Sleuth" or "Deadwood Dick."
The home should begin the reading habit which the
school fosters and develops into a love of literature and
an appreciation of the best books.
In November 1919, Children's Book Week was
celebrated throughout the United States. A national
campaign was undertaken to stimulate a love of read-
ing among children and young people, and to direct
the attention of parents to the importance of choosing
the right books. Books were displayed in bookshops
and in libraries to attract the attention of readers to
the best books.
READING ALOUD TO THE CHILD
By Hamlin Garland
The value of reading aloud to a child cannot be over-
stated. In the first place, it establishes a delightful com-
radeship between parent and child. It builds a lasting
foundation of common interest and mutual under-
standing. The child associates with the face and the
voice of his sire much of the dignity and poetry of the
book he has heard read. He infers that his father has
something of the quality of the author, and he carries
with him a grateful memory of the busy man who laid
aside his large affairs in order to give pleasure to a small
boy.
A father's voice can vitalize the printed page to his
132
THE CHILD AND HIS BOOK
son even before the son can comprehend the written
words. I commenced reading aloud to my daughters
before they could understand the spoken words for the
reason that the very music of the ballad or the drift of
the story enthralled them. It was good to see them
strive to comprehend. It developed their imagination.
They are growing toward womanhood now and they
are able to tell me that they remember those nights
when I read to them, with an emotion which they find
hard fittingly to express. I gave them both, in this way,
a feeling for glorious verse, and a love for choice words
which has been of the highest value to them up to this
time, and which will increase in value as the years pass.
The father should remember that his child's mind is
like a phonographic cylinder of most tenacious ad-
hesiveness, and in this understanding he should exer-
cise the greatest care in choosing the impressions which
he is about to lay upon it. The younger the child the
more lasting the record. To prove this the father has
but to recall his own boyhood and the words which
caused indelible scars or laid equally indelibly beauti-
ful pictures upon his own mind.
My father did not read to me, but he told me stories,
and these stories were of the greatest value to me in my
fictional work in after life. I am grateful for all his tales,
and it is a special source of satisfaction to me that I
have no recollection of ever hearing from his lips an
unworthy or ribald jest.
G. W. Tuttle in Child Welfare Magazine tells how
unother parent directs the book interest in the kome;
133
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Our little girl is now nearly two and a half years old,
and she has never tired of her scrap-books. Through
them she has become acquainted with the different ani-
mals and the sound made by each, and is able to connect
the animals and their calls.
"The number of books of this kind which would be of
great educational value to the child is almost limitless.
Birds, flowers, vegetables, trades, farming, and history
might all be presented to the child in this form. As our
little girl grows older we have planned books of harvest-
ing pictures showing the various stages in the growth of
wheat from the preparation of the soil, planting of the
seed, and so on, until it passes through the hands of the
miller and baker and finally reaches the child in the form
of her daily bread.
"Another interesting process is the building of the
home from the trees to the finished product. This book
will contain pictures of the forest where the trees grow,
the man felling the great trees, the horses and wagons
which haul the trees to the sawmill, the cutting and
planing of the boards, the train which transports them
to the lumber-yard, the boards piled high in the lumber-
yard, the carpenter at work putting the boards together,
the house in the process of construction, and lastly the
finished home and the family who lives in it. From these
process books, the child can be led to realize that it takes
rain, sunshine, and warmth to make the trees and the
grains grow, and that there are many people to thank for
providing our simplest food, and that above all, God is
the great source of everything."
XVI
THE LITTLE ACTOR
**A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral :
And this hath now his heart.
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will be fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife.
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside.
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part:
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage*
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her Equipage:
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation."
Wordsworth
I AM a queen. These are my ladies in waiting." Jane
swept past in truly regal style, attired in an old silk
waist, a long kitchen apron for a court train, and a gold
crown made of yellow tissue paper. The ladies in wait-
ing were equally elegant with long apron trains. Jane
walked as if every inch a queen. Did she possibly gain
an added sense of power and dignity from her queenly
role?
Down the street a group of boys were playing soldier
with General Pershing in command. Brown sticks were
used for rifles and the flag-bearer marched in front while
a band discoursed martial strains on a tin pan and a
toy whistle. Did some feeling of a soldier's part in stand-
135
TALKS TO MOTHERS
ing firm and true and obeying orders come from this
play? Another week these same boys were organizing a
parade to welcome returning soldiers with bands play-
ing and banners flying.
I remember well a store kept in our front yard during
a part of a summer. We made articles for the store, leaf-
garlands, burr-baskets, pincushions stuffed with milk-
weed, glasses of lemonade, dust-cloths, and many other
articles, useful and otherwise. Pins w^ere currency at
first, but later a box of toy money enabled us to make
change and to gain daily lessons in arithmetic.
A little boy was taken to church for the first time and
was especially impressed by the minister's manner. In
the afternoon he arranged the chairs of the sitting-
room in rows. Mounting an armchair he announced that
he would preach a sermon. *'Be good," he exhorted the
empty chairs. "Do what your fathers tell you. Do what
your mothers tell you. Be good ail the time. Amen."
Instances such as these could be multiplied to show
the tireless interest of children in "make-believe."
From the time the small child begins to play milk-man,
grocery-man, ice-man, or peddler, one role succeeds an-
other without any break in interest. This is the natural
method of beginning to share in the world's work.
Housekeeping plays are continued over long periods
of time with dramatic rendering of the home activities,
cooking, sweeping, washing, ironing, calling, gossiping,
and dealing with refractory children.
"You naughty child — I must punish you! You
must be undressed and go right to bed!" says the play
mother to the incorrigible doll. The tender mother is re-
136
THE LITTLE ACTOR
produced if examples of tenderness have been supplied.
A mother may recognize her own tones, when she hears,
"Now, darhng, it is bedtime. You must have your bath.
Here is your nice white bed ready for you." "Yes,
darhng, I will sing to you. You like mother's lullaby,
my precious."
Playing school is a favorite dramatization. Teachers
might often be edified to see themselves as children see
them. Mannerisms are copied; tones of voice imitated,
and lessons read which might well make the real teacher
covet the same zeal in learning for the real schoolroom.
We are beginning to recognize the educational value of
dramatic play. The dramatization of stories, playing of
dramatic games, make a part of the curriculum of the
modern school. Froebel was the first to give definite
form and guidance to the dramatic instinct in his series
of representative plays. He believed that to be a thing
is not only to understand it, but to grow into its likeness.
Therefore he chose for his plays desirable activities and
representations.
Acting out in play the life of the mother bird and the
father bird, the building of a nest, feeding the young,
teaching the young to fly, makes children watchful of
birds' ways. It also creates the feeling which made
Saint Francis call all living creatures brothers and
friends. A boy newly received into a kindergarten circle
was about to take an egg from a bird's nest hidden in
the tall grass in the field near the school-building. He
was stopped by the cry of protest from the group. "You
must not touch an egg ! The mother bird would miss it.
There's a little bird in it."
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
The kindergarten games give a wide range of repre-
sentation. We have flying birds, butterflies, prancing
steeds, hopping frogs, jumping hares, and swift-running
squirrels. Blacksmiths hammer, carpenters saw and
plane, farmers plough and sow, millers grind, and bakers
bake. In joyful reproduction the working world passes
in panorama before the eyes of the little actors who take
part in the drama. The "make-believe" tendency helps
children to learn for themselves lessons prescribed in the
great school of life. It helps to understanding of activi-
ties and processes and releases powers of self-expression.
Mrs. Alice Minnie Herts Heniger, in her book called
"The Kingdom of the Child," declares that the child
enters into his true kingdom through the imagination.
The dramatic instinct is the means of entrance. She
says, "The child and the adolescent can learn best
how to know himself by being for a time some one else.
This sounds like a paradox, and it is true, for any one
who has studied the dramatic instinct and its relation
to the life of childhood knows that this game of * make-
believe' is youth's natural means of trying to gain ex-
perience in life. Thus we see that the child who refuses
to have his dramatic instinct constantly repressed does
learn in spite of us: but the same child will learn far
more surely, more quickly, and more genially if we
cooperate with the instinct in him."
Mrs. Heniger cites many instances of the effect on
character of studying and enacting certain parts in a
play or story.
Especially suggestive is her chapter on the value of
the dramatic method in inspiring immigrant children
138
THE LITTLE ACTOR
with American ideals through plays and speeches which
present our national heroes and preserve our national
spirit. A Russian lad who knew no English grammar
caught the spirit of Abraham Lincoln from reciting the
"Gettysburg Speech." "I'll take off Abraham Lincoln
and say the speech like as if I was him," he said — and
so he did. WTien February 12th came, the lad was ready
to declare to himself and his audience of foreign-bom
that "Government of the people, by the people, and for
the people shall not perish from the earth. "
In the home circle, mothers have a constant op-
portunity to utilize the dramatic instinct for good ends.
The telling of a story is usually an incentive to play it.
A very slight interest or participation on the part of
elders fosters the desire to dramatize.
A six-year-old boy had heard the thrilling story of
David and Goliath. "Let's play it," he said. "I'll be
David. I'll get a stone for my sling. What will you he?
You can be Goliath. No, you're not big enough. We'll
wait for Uncle Charles to come home. You can be the
Philistines." I know a good grandmother who devotes
Sunday afternoons to playing Bible stories with her
grandchildren. Probably more knowledge of the Bible
is secured in these hours than in the Sunday-School
lessons.
Dr. Colin Scott was among the first of educators
in this country to advocate the value of dramatization.
In a chapter in his "Social Education" he describes
the natural way in which a family group granted only a
room with opportunity will create a series of plays. I
quote his description of one scene:
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
**A number of children, from eight to ten years old,
were accustomed to meet on Saturdays and rainy days
in the attic of the house of one of their number. Here
they continued from week to week a play based on their
readings of Sunday-School books and other sources
which had appealed to them. One of the tables in the
attic represented Africa. Here were sand and palm
trees made of grass and matches. Doors were cut out
of paper and painted black. In another place were the
South Sea Islands, with tattooed savages and canoes:
in still another, China. The dolls here were ornately
dressed, and tea and rice obtained from the mothers
lent reality to the scene. London was represented,
from which the missionaries, dressed in long black
coats, started on their journey in paper ships. Sermons
were delivered to the natives, but to no purpose: the
missionaries were duly killed and eaten up. During the
development of this play they * bothered the life' out
of their parents to find out more about Africa and such
places, but never thought of asking their teacher, who
at this time was drilling them on the boundaries of the
states and their capitals."
A play of "Little Travelers" may be the means of
gaining much information about the countries or cities
visited. The textbook in history may be dull, but it is
never dull to play the landing of the Pilgrims, or the
storming of Quebec. Little girls like to play Mary,
Queen of Scots, and Queen Elizabeth. There may be a
trunk in the attic which holds old-fashioned gowns.
These make all the costumes necessary.
I know a happy family where a special trunk is kept
140
THE LITTLE ACTOR
for all properties which may be used for tableaux and
home plays. The children in this family would rather
stay at home and give a play than go to any party.
These children do not need to go to a moving-picture
show for entertainment. They find it in their own
home. By speaking the words of a fine character they
enter into the motives and spirit of that character.
By playing many roles they begin to understand life
better.
The "movie" actor or actress has no opportunity to
reveal motives, nor to interpret vital human experience.
The quickly passing scenes of the "movie" stage give
no time for thinking of what is seen. Too frequent at-
tendance at the " movies" weakens power of attention
and prevents appreciation of the best in dramatic art.
The "movie" play can give only a temporary gratifica-
tion. It is a passive enjoyment. Often it gives a wrong
and painful view of life.
Good educational films, on the other hand, show
other worlds than ours, and add to the stock of a child's
knowledge. Cities, mountains, rivers and seas, the won-
ders of the starry heavens, fine cathedrals and grand
palaces, delight the eye and cultivate a love of the
beautiful in scenery and architecture. The events of the
day may be shown upon the screen and children see
history in the making. Such films are very desirable
and make a valuable part of education.
The spoken word, however, is necessary to truly in-
terpret a character or a story. The eyes see and the ears
hear and the mind begins to connect cause and effect
and to understand life's experiences. The actor puts
141
TALKS TO MOTHERS
himself in another's place. The little actor widens his
sympathies by the parts he plays.
A child is truly a part of all that he has seen. He de-
sires to act that part. He desires also to travel the path
of the untried and unknown, led by the imagination
which pictures forth the forms of the unknown.
XVII
THE LITTLE ARTIST
"Even the little child may be an artist. ^Vhat the child makes
may seem small and worthless, but out of the small beginning comes
something great. . . .
"All that you see about you, even the greatest things, arose from
small beginnings. . . .
"The stream whose song you hear came from a tiny source. Out
of nothing God created all you see. . . .
"Will you not see the possibilities in your child? It is your most
important task to nurture all his latent powers."
Proebel
DAVID'S pocket always holds a bit of string, a
piece of chalk, and stray pencils. David is an
artist. He likes to have his tools handy. A smooth board
on a fence may be chosen for his picture, or the wall of
the house. More often he chooses the doorstep or the
sidewalk, if it is made of stone or boards. We often find
his pictures there. Sometimes, if it is a rainy day, and
David cannot go out to play, he draws with his finger
on the window-pane. We do not like that because it
leaves bad marks on the window. Neither do we approve
of the mirror as a drawing-board, nor the polished tea-
tray. We rightly object to pencil scratches on the table-
cloth or on the wall-paper or on book margins. What
shall we do? Shall we empty David's pocket and take
away the chalk and pencils? No, indeed; we should
then despoil an artist of his means of representation.
We should rejoice that David has the creative impulse.
143
TALKS TO MOTHERS
It may mean artistic taste and point to a special line of
development. It may be only the desire of expression
common to all children. In any case, it should not be
checked or suppressed. It should be gratified and en-
couraged. We should supply proper materials and say,
"Draw all you wish. Show me your pretty pictures."
What can we supply for our little artist? A small
blackboard is best with plenty of broad crayons. If the
blackboard cannot be secured, father can make a good
substitute by tacking blackboard cloth over any common
board. This cloth can be ordered from a kindergarten
supply store. A large, old-fashioned slate with chalk
for drawing is also a very good medium for picture-mak-
ing. In addition to the blackboard we should furnish
freely large sheets of brown paper, such as come around
packages, to be used for drawing with brush and pencil.
David's choicest Christmas gift was a box of colored
crayons. With these he makes pictures for grandma and
birthday cards for sisters and cousins. Flower and leaf
patterns can be found to color, or he can draw his own.
For large brush work on large sheets of paper nothing
is better than the fresco paints used for tinting kitchen
and pantry walls. These are easily secured from a house
painter, and with them David can make charming
scenes. Sometimes he makes a mountain with trees and
a red farmhouse nestling at the foot of the mountain.
At one time all his pictures were of trains and engines,
and during the war he painted constantly warships and
submarines. Houses and trees are easily sketched and
call for bright colors. Gardens and orchards are also
favorite subjects.
144
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THE BOY MICHELANGELO CARVING THE HEAD OF
THE FAUN
THE LITTLE ARTIST
For finer work liquid dyes and boxes of paints should
be supplied the artist that he may improve in his work.
The string in David's pocket is very useful for draw-
ing purposes. He can wet it in a cup of water and use
it for outlining forms, on any smooth, moist surface,
such as a slate or a bread-board. He will make first,
maybe, a moon, then a three-leaved clover, a four-
leaved clover, and a rose of five petals. A burnt match
serves to guide the phable string into place.
Burnt matches are good material for picture-making.
They stand in line for a row of soldiers marching. A
change of position shows the soldiers asleep. Square
yards for them to march in may be made, beds for thenf
to sleep upon, and a row of tents for their camp.
" It is his impulse to create
Should gladden thee."
The wish to draw grows out of the instinctive dc'
sire for self-expression. A child wishes to tell what h^
sees. One language is not enough for him. He chooses
drawing as another language. He tells by his drawings
what he sees. He tries to tell all he sees. He will show
in the same picture the inside as well as the outside of
the house. He knows there are chairs and tables within.
Why not show them?
At the age of four or five or six he does not hesitate
to draw anything. The child was perfectly honest who
said to his teacher that he could draw a picture of God.
"But we cannot see God," said the teacher. "You will,"
answered the boy, "when I show you the picture."
The little artist represents what seems to him most
important and interesting. He draws a front view of a
145
TALKS TO MOTHERS
man with large eyes and mouth, because those features
impress him most. Hair is usually much in evidence
and long rows of buttons down the front of a coat.
Buttons are charming, shiny things, very ornamental.
Of course we like to see them. Notice the time when
David changes his method of drawing. Some day he
will draw a face in profile. Why has he changed his plan?
He has begun to observe more carefully and wishes to
tell things as they really are. Now he is ready to cor-
rect and criticize his own work. How can mother help?
mother's part
A CHILD grows by what he does. He clears his own ideas
by trying to express them. He begins to think as he
begins to express. He gains knowledge of things about
him by his effort to show how they look. He holds in
his hands, and in their ability to represent, one of the
keys to the world of knowledge. The cave man who lived
in the childhood of the world told his stories of the life
about him in scribbles and pictures on the walls of his
cave. We are finding those pictures to-day.
Mrs. Wharton, in "French Ways and Their Mean-
ing," tells of the discovery of painted caves in southern
France. She says:
"Proofs of the consummate skill of these men of the
dawn have been found on the walls of caves and grot-
toes all over central and southern France throughout
the very region where our American soldiers have been
camping.'* These pictures show us that thousands of
years ago there were men in France who told of the
fish they saw swimming in the river and of the stags
i4>a
THE LITTLE ARTIST
they were hunting by the pictures they painted on their
cave walls.
The baby's scribbles show the same desire that the
cave men had — the desire to represent. At first the
scribbles mean nothing. You may call them a letter to
father; but there is no likeness to anything on earth
or under the earth. One day, however, the little one
draws his Hne in a curve and lo, he has an apple or a
moon. Then he keeps on making apples and moons.
He changes into leaves and flowers and clouds and stars
and he has become an artist.
Your part is to preserve and cherish these scribbles.
Put them away as a record of the baby's growth. If
there is any really artistic tendency, foster it as a pre-
cious possession. Your part is encouragement. You
must furnish materials and a place to draw.
A teacher in New York has protested against an ad-
vertisement of a certain biscuit company. The ad-
vertisement in question shows a boy on the way to
school with his books and a package of the biscuit
under his arm. He is writing on the sidewalk, "Eat
biscuit." This teacher says that the schools
have great diflficulty in keeping boys and girls from de-
facing buildings and sidewalks. The schools recognize
the desire of children to sketch and write on any avail-
able surface. They see how strong a suggestion such a
picture is. The picture should show the boy writing in
some legitimate place. He should write. He should
draw. He should paint. But give him the right means.
Schools furnish blackboards and drawing-paper. Homes
should supply the same need.
14?
TALKS TO MOTHERS
A child's interests
David shows his interests by what he draws. His in-
terests vary. Conversation, stories, pictures, moving
things outside, suggest points of interest to him. The
effect of a story may be tested by the child's desire to
illustrate it. If the story has been dramatic and well
told, several scenes will be pictured. You may discover
the high points in interest by what the hearer draws.
Professor Earl Barnes told a group of children the
thrilling tale of "Johnny Look-in-the-air." Johnny
failed to "watch his step" and fell into the river. He
was fished out by a passer-by, however, and ran home
in his wet clothes. Mr. Barnes wished to see what
situation made the strongest appeal to the children.
The drawings revealed the interest in Johnny's rescue.
The impression of a story is deepened by giving the
hearers a chance to illustrate it. A busy mother need
not stop to retell the story. She may say, " Make some
pictures for the little Eskimo sister, or for the Dutch
Twins, or for Heidi who lived in the Swiss mountains."
The son of a college professor became so absorbed
in the pictures suggested by the Book of Revelation
that he drew scene after scene on a roll of paper. He
added to this roll from day to day till it grew so large
he had to keep it under his bed. The white throne, the
tree of life, the white horse, and the four and forty
thousand of the redeemed were all pictured. Did he
gain something of the beauty and poetry of the book
from his drawings? "We are so made that we love things
first when we see them painted." When we paint them
ourselves, we love them better.
XVIII
THE SINGING CHILD
"all their lives to music set"
IT must have been a wonderful day when men first
talked together! In the earliest days of creation
there was no need for spoken words. Life was so simple
that there was nothing to be said about it, or so they
thought. Then, those wild men of old woke up to the
fact that the world was interesting and that they must
in some way make their neighbors know it. So they
spoke; and then came song, for of course for a long time
there were too few words for all occasions. They raised
their voices in song when they were joyful, and also
when they were filled with fear and trouble. The sing-
ing voice carried the part of what they wished to say
that their few words could not express.
Babies begin their days in that same way. Before
they can speak they cry and make little sounds with
their voices. They add their noises to the noises of a
noisy world. But many noises are soothing, or delightful,
when we come to understand them.
Not long ago I walked through a beautiful field with a
friend who is also a friend of the birds. Suddenly she
stopped and said, "There! did you hear that grass-
hopper sparrow .f^" But alas! I was tuned to the jar and
rattle of city noises. I was as confused as a little child
in a new world of sounds. I heard the scraping and
149
TALKS TO MOTHERS
buzzing of insects, the wind in the tall grasses, and
bird songs, but I could not separate the song of the
grasshopper sparrow from the other sounds. My friend
helped me to listen, and out of the confusion came the
strange little song.
"AH the music that we hear.
Listening with the outward ear.
Would be powerless to win us
If there lived not deep within us
Its innate idea."
Many of the sounds that come in this confusing way
to the baby he needs to have his mother help him to
understand. There is rhythm and order in many of
the noises that we hear. Froebel, the great, tender-
hearted teacher, tells us this. He says:
"Oh, teach your child that those who live
By Order's kindly law
Find all their lives to music set;
While those who this same law forget
Find only fret and jar."
One of the sounds that Froebel has in mind, when
he speaks of "Order's kindly law," is the tick of the
clock. A baby loves to put a watch close to his ear and
say, "Tick, tick!" He has found that the watch speaks
to him in a little rhyme that he loves. It no longer adds
its beat to the general noise and rumble of life. The
train says to him, "Going home, going home," or some-
thing he is equally glad to hear. The waves on the beach,
the patter of the rain, the kitten's cry, even the pounding
of his own fist and the bobbing of his little head, make
rhymes. Many sounds come to him (if his mother sets
him in tune to hear them) in a rhyming beat, one, two,
150
THE SINGING CHILD
three, one, two, three, that rests him and sets his
thoughts in order.
"bye low, my baby"
The baby loves to hear his mother sing. It does not
matter that she has an untaught voice, if she sings to
him his own songs. First among the baby's own songs
are the lullabies. He soon begins to croon a little, as
his mother sing^. Lullabies comfort and calm him, and
the gentle measure repeated again and again, puts him
to sleep. It is sad that so many babies are never sung
to sleep!
There are the little sleepy songs, composed as you
sing; your very own songs. You hum them repeatedly:
"Rock, rock, rock," goes the chair, "Tap, tap, tap,"
lightly goes the foot, "One, two, three, one, two, three. *'
Any one who loves a baby will sing lullabies in that way.
There are, of course, the wonderful lullabies, so beautiful
that great singers sing them at concerts, and mothers
everywhere know and love them. "Sweet and low,"
and "All through the night, " are of this sort. "Bye low,
my baby, " comes to us out of the past. Songs that re-
mind us of early love and teaching are very valuable.
Our children must have such songs stored away in their
minds, for a time may come when they will be needed.
A mother once reaped a great reward for the songs she
sang to her child. Here is her story, and it is true:
A mother's song
They were pioneers, taking up a claim in Pennsylvania
in the early days of the eighteenth century. The mother
151
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and the little child spent many a long day and night
together. Often they could not even hear the sound of
the axe, so far did the man's work of clearing take him
from the little cabin home. The woman often sang, to
start the echoes, and for the sake of the child. One hymn
she loved, and she sang it often :
"Alone, yet not alone am I,
Though round me spreads the wilderness,
I know my Saviour 's ever by
Ready to comfort and to bless."
She sang it again and again. The little child joined her,
and they sang together.
One day Indians rushed upon them, and carried away
the little girl, now three years old. For twelve years the
child lived with the Indians. She spoke their language
and forgot what she knew of her own. She grew tall and
lean and brown, and her thoughts were Indian thoughts.
She knew nothing else. Many other children were stolen
in the same way.
And then the Government raided the Indian settle-
ments and took away the stolen children. The children
were taken to a certain court-house, and the people
whose children had been taken from them were asked to
come for them. How the poor, sad mothers must have
rejoiced! The singing mother went to the court-house,
a long journey on horseback. When she saw the stolen
children, her heart sank. How could she know which of
these tall, brown Indian maidens was the little child
who sang with her in those lonely days.?^ They did not
understand when she spoke to them. They were afraid,
and huddled miserably, not knowing why they were there.
15^
THE SINGING CHILD
The mother turned to go, discouraged, and then she
remembered the song the child and she had loved.
She turned back, when she reached the door, and
sang,
"Alone, yet not alone am I."
One of the stolen children rushed into her arms.
"so SHALL THEIR LIVES BRING PEACE AND JOY"
Our minds are so fashioned that there is a place where
many of the things we learn in childhood are stored.
We seem to have forgotten these things, until, when
they have been tucked away for a long time, some
sight or sound sets them free. A man who seemed to
have forgotten the things that came to him when he
was a little child, playing in his mother's kitchen, was
walking down a dirty, crowded street. He was desperate
and on his way to commit a crime. Suddenly he stopped
and listened. The children in a mission school were sing-
ing, "Jesus loves me, this I know." It came to him
through the open windows, and he went in. They said
that he was suddenly converted, but he knew better.
He blessed his mother for having taught him to sing the
little hymn, and for putting the truth that it tells into
his heart. The song that the child sang, playing at his
mother's side, saved the man. Froebel had this thought
in mind when he said, "Let us live with our children;
so shall their lives bring peace and joy to us."
"the PLANT THAT IS NOT WATERED, DIEs"
The little baby loves his mother because she does so
many delightful, comfortable things for him. Froebel
15S
TALKS TO MOTHERS
charges mothers to hold the love of their children
through every means that can be devised. He likens
love to a delicate plant, and reminds us that "the plant
that is not watered, dies." When the apron string has
been partly untied, and the child goes from his mother,
to kindergarten or Sunday School, or out to play with
other children, the need for music at home is greater
than before. We must devise mutual interests that we
may continue to be intimate with the children and hold
their love and confidence. There is never a time when
we do not need to water the plant of love. We will sing
more than ever. We will learn of the child the kinder-
garten songs or little street games that he likes. We will
teach him little nature songs and soldier songs, full of
the things that interest him the most. We will play as
we sing, for now the play spirit is keenly alive in him,
and we must meet its needs. Singing must be a natural
way for him to express joy, worship, love, and enthusi-
asm. If the child has heard the older members of the
family sing ever since he can remember anything, and
has himself sung all his life, singing will be as natural
to him as speaking. Song and the play spirit work to-
gether, and love of home, of family, and of God is
strengthened.
A MOTHER who believes in these things plays a little
singing game with her children as they start for kinder-
garten or play. She has often told them the story of the
pigeons. "A family of pigeons once lived in a pigeon-
house," she says. "Every morning when the sun began
154
THE SINGING CHILD
to shine, the little pigeons opened their bright eyes and
wanted to fly. Then the boy, whose pigeons these were,
opened the door of the pigeon-house, and out they flew.
How glad they were to go ! The little pigeons flew about
in the sunshine all day, and saw a great many things with
their bright little eyes. When the sun began to go down,
their wings were tired, and the pigeons flew back to the
pigeon-house. How glad they were to be home! How
glad they were to see their mother ! They told her about
the things they had seen. They told her about the things
they had found to eat. 'Coo! Coo!' they said. That is
pigeon talk, so of course the pigeon mother understood
every word. Then they went to sleep and the boy closed
the door of the pigeon-house. The pigeons were safe."
That is the story, and you can see how it will make a
lovely game. When the mother opens the door to let the
children go, she sometimes says, "Good-bye, pigeons!"
and then she sings:
" I '11 open wide my pigeon-house.
And set all my pigeons free
To fly east and west on every side
And light on the nearest tree."
And lo, the children are pigeons! Immediately they
flutter, with arms outspread, and away they go, with
the mother's cheery, dear little song in their ears.
When bedtime comes, they finish the game. "My
pigeons have come back to the nest," the mother says;
and then she sings:
" And when they return from their merry, merry flight.
We'll shut the door, and say good-night.
Coo, Coo, Coo.
155
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"I'm glad the mother pigeon understands pigeon talk.
She must be so glad to hear about the things the little
pigeons saw as they flew about all day. I understand
my pigeons, too, and I want to hear about the things
they saw, and what they played, all day."
A little talk, with confidences, confessions, and glad
announcements, follows. Sleep comes, and the game is
finished.
"With the years, the larger knowledge
Of life's wholeness then will come.
And its twilight hour will find them
With themselves, and God, at home."
"love, the melody of the heart"
There are play songs and work songs that give joy.
They lend, even to rainy days and housework, a charm
that increases the love of home. In singing such songs,
"love, the melody of the heart, is revealed in the mel-
ody of the voice." We can sing festivity into the things
we do. Can you imagine playing "Oats, peas, beans, and
barley grows." without singing? To say the words,
would spoil the game.
To sing as you sweep, suiting the action of the broom
to the time and tune of your song, takes away half the
work. That is the meaning of such singing, as the
"Heave-ho!" sung by the sons of toil who load and un-
load the steamers. The swing of the music helps the
men to work together, and they are so in tune that the
work is forgotten and the pleasure of singing together
remembered. Work songs that suggest the fairy side of
life rouse the imagination and relieve the strain of work:
156
THE SINGING CHILD
"Fairies of the dust, beware!
We are searching everywhere.
We will find you, though you hide.
And will sweep you all, outside."
"from sea to shining sea"
How can we "crown" our country "with brocherhood,
from sea to shining sea"? It is what we need most, in
this great country of ours, everywhere, from the Atlantic
to the Pacific. Love of country begins at home. It begins
when Httle children find happiness and music and con-
cord in their homes. It continues when they go out and
wish that the rest of the world was more like home and
desire to make it so. One love grows out of another. On
national holidays let the flags be unfurled ! Let our coun-
try's songs be sung. "Three cheers for the red, white,
and blue!" That is a fine slogan, for fathers, mothers,
and children. A parade around about the house, bearing
the flag, and singing as you go, the making of paper
soldier caps, tents, forts, and gardens (because father is
home, and he knows how), make a splendid celebration,
and the children make a discovery! Father is just as
enthusiastic about these things as are the children.
Another mutual interest to tie people together in sym-
pathy and love !
"With smiles and with singing
Our gifts we are bringing."
Song has many a lovely mission. A mother, far from
stores and with only money enough for necessary things,
heard that her husband's mother was coming to pay
them a visit. She longed to make the beloved guest feel
157
TALKS TO MOTHERS
the welcome that was hers, and yet there was no time,
no money, and little strength with which to honor her.
But the mother knew the value of song, and hers were
singing children. When she led the way to the guest-
room and threw open the door, there in the center of the
room stocd three tiny children. As the door opened they
held out gifts of wild flowers and sang:
"We are glad to see you, a welcome to you,
A welcome, dear Grandma, to you."
That was all, but it was perfect.
A song learned to surprise father on his birthday, and
carols to sing around the Christmas tree; a grace to sing,
together, on Thanksgiving Day, at dinner-time; these
things are very simple, but they count tremendously.
A woman claims that she cannot do these things. She
says, ''I have no piano, no voice, and no desire to sing.*'
There is no pity for her, only congratulations. She has
the occasions for singing, and a mother's voice. Songs
are plenty, and her children are full of the "desire to
sing."
" For 't is thus your love you '11 show
To the God who loves you so."
We all know that songs that are especially suited to
Sunday singing are dear to many a grown-up heart. To
hear little children sing "Little drops of water," "Jesus,
tender shepherd," or "I think when I read," causes
many of us to look back over the years with tearful
pleasure. Many newer songs, as well as many of the
grandest hymns, should be learned "by heart" on the
Sundays at home, for children memorize easily.
158
THE SINGING CHILD
A young giant in khaki, just returned from France,
sat one Sunday evening in the old home holding his
mother's hand. The brothers and sisters had gathered
to welcome him, and they sang as they had when they
were children and Sunday evening came.. These had been
singing children^ so, although night was falling and they
could not see to read, they sang every word of one grand
old hymn after another. Then the young giant in khaki
told of the camps and hospitals abroad. *'The boys
wanted hymns," he said, "and when they found I knew
all the words, they kept me singing most of the time.
Lots of them knew, maybe the first verse, but they
wanted the hymns, clear through."
" We are the music-makers.
We are the dreamers of dreams! "
One of our dreams is of multiplying an hundredfold
the joy in the lives of children. We do not always recog-
nize joy, just as we do not understand the electricity
that all about us goes to waste. We do not know how to
lay hold of it and make it add to our happiness in light
and warmth. But do let us capture all we can of joy, by
tuning ourselves and the children to make and to hear
music.
"A song is but a little thing.
And yet what joy it is to sing!
In hours of toil it gives me zest.
And when at eve I long for rest;
When cows come home along the bars.
And in the fold I hear the bell,
As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars,
I sing my song, and all is well,"
Paul Laurence Dunbar
XIX
THE LITTLE MUSICIAN
"Let me go where'er I will,
I hear a heaven-born music still."
Emerson
LITTLE girl loved to hear the sound of the wind
among the trees. She lived in a deep valley en-
circled by hills. At night she would lie awake to listen
to the song of the wind as it swept over the hillside.
Sometimes it was a loud, triumphant song. Sometimes
it was soft and low like a lullaby. Sometimes it shrieked
and called from hill to hill. Then little girl shivered with
a thrill of fearful admiration. When autumn winds blew
she thought the song was to comfort the trees for the
lost leaves. And very splendid it was to listen to the
crisp, rustling notes of the answering leaves as they
were swept along the sidewalk.
Little girl had not then read the lines of Longfellow
in which he says :
" I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent.
Like keys of some great instrument."
She had the same kind of feeling, however, about the
music. She loved also to listen to the whispering of the
wind-swept field of wheat or to watch the rhythmic
waves of motion. She fancied the field was rejoicing that
so many loaves of bread were hidden away in the yellow,
160
THE LITTLE MUSICIAN
nodding heads of wheat, for, of course, mother had told
her how our bread comes from the kernels of wheat.
There was a brook hidden in the woods near her home,
and httle girl would sit for an hour at a time on the
mossy bank listening to the song of the brook.
She could hear it chattering as it went to join the
shining river. She did not know what it chattered about,
but sometimes she thought a little song about it. At
twilight she would play these songs on the piano. Father
listened in the next room. He liked them better than
any other pieces she played, better than the " Shepherd
Boy" or "Annie Laurie." So she made more of them
and played more. They were not great songs, but they
brought happiness to the player and other listeners.
Maybe they helped her in later life to listen for the
"heaven-born music" where'er she went, and to find it.
Do you know a little musician in your home or in a
neighbor's.'^ What can we do to satisfy the longings of
such a child? We are not a musical people. We do not
love song nor cultivate it, as do our friends who have
come from sunny Italy. Italian children grow up loving
music, because they are born with a musical environ-
ment. We could have more songs in our homes. We
should have more community singing.
The sense of rhythm is one of the fundamental in-
stincts. Any instrument which keeps time fosters the
rhythmic feeling. A drum, a triangle, a flute, and a pipe
will make a home band.
Whistles and pipes are noisy, and the sound of the
piano jars sometimes on tired nerves. Is it worth while,
however, to give all children the chance for musical
161
TALKS TO MOTHERS
expression? It is well worth while to give the little musi-
cian his opportunity for a possible musical career.
It may be we have more musical talent in our homes
than we ever discover. In the ''Boston Herald," Miss
Mary Caldwell Howard, a supervisor of music, says this
regarding the musical ability of children:
"There are various degrees of musical ability, but no
child is wholly without musical appreciation.
"One case in particular was passed on to me as a
hopeless monotone, classified as such by some one fasci-
nated by the term, or the ease of so shifting a burden
met with in the day's work. It was delicious to see his
joy during the music lesson, but a little exciting to hear
the whole scale sung heartily on one pitch. I praised him
for his one good quality — enthusiasm — and because I
accepted it the children did.
"My interest was quickened when I discovered him
to be the drummer for the school marching. Music is
twofold, time and tune, and this boy had a wonderful
feeling for rhythm. Sometimes when his voice in singing
was becoming a little strenuous, I would have him sing
alone and ask the others to keep time. His songs were
always in good time. Because his efforts were acceptable
to me, and because he received praise rather than cen-
sure, self-consciousness disappeared. He kept up his
efforts, and in the third grade had achieved everything
but tonality. He woke up to graduations of tone in
the fourth and in the eighth grade was a dependable
bass.
"No one has the right to judge, tabulate, or condemn
a child's ability. I have discovered no monotone, taken
162
From a Copley print. Copyright by Ciirtts !f Cameron, Fuhlishers, Boston
THE FIRST MUSIC LESSON
THE LITTLE MUSICLW
in the first grade, who could not be brought out of it,
if sensibly treated, by the fourth grade.
"I met a Leland Stanford man recently who attended
all the concerts he had time for on a Western tour. He
could not express himself in any musical way, but I was
amazed to learn that he was deep in the study of har-
mony, because he hoped it would help him to understand
the music he loved. There you are ! Suppressed as a child,
I suppose, and at college age still trying to get hold of
his musical self."
Here are some stories of the childhood of great musi-
cians which show us how early the musical feeling
awakens.
HANDEL. THE WONDER CHILD
Told by Barbara Bingham
When George Frederick Handel was a small lad his
parents realized that he was passionately fond of music,
for among his playthings those that made a noise were
his favorites. His friends therefore gave him many drums
and horns, and he also acquired the accomplishment of
playing both the jew's-harp and the flute. His father
ridiculed his son's early musical attempts, and finally,
as he observed that the little fellow was wholly absorbed
in that art, forbade him the privilege of playing in the
house or visiting where he would hear music. George's
father was very desirous that his son should become an
eminent lawyer. These strenuous rules developed a
greater love of music; the little boy listened more in-
tently for sweet sounds; he heard the sacred church
music several times a week, and the tower chimes glad-
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
dened his childish heart. He was given a spinet, which,
with a wire covering to deaden the sound, he could play
undisturbed in the attic. It was here that he spent some
of the time he should have been in Slumberland. Many
nights, when all was still in the house, he crept up the
stairs to practice.
One bright, sunshiny morning the father planned a
few days' visit to the castle to see the Duke, and
when the coach made the first stop he observed his little
boy. "My son, I thought I told you to remain at home.
Why are you here?" he said.
"Please, father, I want to see the castle; do let me go
with you," Handel replied. As the child promised to be
good, he climbed up beside the older man, and they soon
arrived at their destination. The members of the Duke*s
household became attached to the lovable child and
often took him to church where they allowed him to
play the organ.
One Sunday afternoon when he was playing the Duke
and his friends came into the chapel. The child continued
and the Duke said, "Who is playing so sweetly?" He
saw it was seven-year-old Handel. The Duke soon won
the child's entire confidence, and talked with his father
so that Herr Handel gave his consent for his son to have
musical instruction. The boy always worked earnestly
and faithfully, and when he was ten years old he could
play, in addition to the organ, the violin and the harpsi-
chord. He substituted at the organ for his teacher who
soon told him that he could give him no further instruc-
tion. Then Handel began his self-study by copying selec-
tions from the old masters, and by compositions.
164
THE LITTLE MUSICL\N
Eleven years later Handel went to Berlin where he
was invited to play at court. Every one was surprised,
delighted, but incredulous when they heard he had
studied for only three years. The Prince offered to send
him to Italy at his own expense, where he could work
with the best teachers. Handel was loyal to his father,
and devoted himself to the study of law at the university
until he was seventeen years old.
Afterwards in Hamburg he became a member of an
orchestra. His salary vvas very meager and his mates
were ignorant of his talent and ability. One day when the
leader was absent, Handel was jokingly told to conduct
in his stead. "Now we shall have some fun," the rude
fellows said, one to the other. But Handel excelled even
the leader, and his fellows were chagrined. While he was
in this city he wrote four operas.
From Hamburg he traveled to Italy where he did
operatic work for three years. The Venetians called him
the *'dear Saxon," because his home was in Saxony.
One evening he was invited to a masquerade. He re-
vealed his identity, because he sat down before the
harpsichord and commenced to play. Some one ex-
claimed, "No one but the noble Saxon could give us
such music as that. It is Handel." Frequently when his
operas were given, shouts were heard of "Long live the
Good Saxon!"
When he was twenty-five years old, Handel journeyed
to England and played for King George at a concert
which was given on the boats on the Thames River.
The King appointed Handel as teacher for the princes
and provided him with a salary of two hundred pounds
165
TALKS TO MOTHERS
sterling yearly, a sum of money which was very unusual
for a poet or a musician to receive.
George Handel is remembered as a composer, not of
operas, but of oratorios. His masterpiece is "The Mes-
siah," which was written at the age of fifty-six years.
The later years of the noble musician's life were sad-
dened by blindness, but Handel still remained happy,
cheerful, and uncomplaining. In Westminster Abbey
there is a statue of this great man. He is standing with
his eyes lifted heavenward. Upon the table at his side is
carved a sheet of music from "The Messiah," and one
may read these words:
"I know that my Redeemer liveth."
MOZART
Told by Myla Cavis
Picture to yourself a city of the olden times when ladies
and gentlemen rode about in sedan chairs attired in
costly silks and velvets and adorned with jewels and
laces.
On a warm summer evening in the year 1766 such a
company assembled in a concert hall in London to at-
tend the performance of the famous child musicians who
were announced as "Miss Mozart, aged thirteen, and
Master Mozart, eight years of age, both prodigies of
nature." Every one was eager to see these young enter-
tainers who, though they were mere children, it was said
had remarkable talent, and the boy particularly aroused
great interest because of the fact that he had composed
much of his own music.
The large, well-lighted room was filled with people in
166
THE LITTLE MUSICUN
costly dress, and there was the customary confusion and
murmur of voices, when suddenly a silence fell upon the
company. All turned toward the raised platform upon
which stood several instruments and a harpsichord and
where now appeared two children attired in the quaint
costume of the day.
The audience was enthusiastic, and when he had
completed a performance which included the rendering
of his own composition, the success of young Mozart
was assured.
From this time on he was feted and petted to an extent
that would have turned the head of any child but one
brought up under the careful training of "Papa Mozart,"
and he soon built up the foundation of a fame which
has lasted to the present day.
JENNY LIND
Told by Mary N. Hyde
Jenny Lind was a famous Swedish singer. When a little
girl she sang most of the time about her work and about
her play. She sang with every step she took and with
every jump of her little feet. Often she would sit in the
window and sing most beautiful music to her cat. She
loved this pet very much and kept a pretty blue ribbon
around its neck.
One day it happened that a passer-by heard her sing-
ing to her cat and thought it so wonderful that she called
Jenny to the attention of Croelius, the singing-master
of the Royal Opera. Though she was only nine years
old, Jenny sang a selection from an opera by Winter to
Croelius, and he was moved to tears. The director of th^
167
TALKS TO MOTHERS
opera refused to hear her at first, because she was so
young and unattractive; but when he finally did hear
her he also was moved to tears. Friends at once took
steps to arrange for her education and training which
was broad and complete. When she was only ten years
old she made her appearance on the boards and showed
wonderful theatrical ability.
As a little child she was said to have been small, ugly,
broad-nosed, and shy, with apparently little hope for
development into the charming, graceful, self-possessed,
and intelligent woman which she became. She was al-
ways fond of sewing and made her stitches so they would
"never come out." This characterizes everything she
did. Her aims were high and from her early childhood
she was persevering and conscientious.
Jenny had a gentle and true nature and was much
beloved and admired by all.
ETHELBERT NEVIN
Told by Mabel C. Taggart
Into the very texture, into the very fiber of the life of
Ethelbert Nevin, music was woven. His namesake was
his uncle, who had died on the battle-field a few months
before the child was born — a death which was such a
tragedy and shock to Mrs. Nevin that her only consola-
tion as she lay in her chamber was to hear music played
softly in an outer room. She herself was a trained musi-
cian, so it was into a world of music the little son came,
who was to give the world some beautiful compositions.
The mother-love was always expressed in music and
it is said that his was a happy boyhood, for there was
168
THE LITTLE MUSICIAN
music in the river and in the trees, and music in the boy's
heart ! It was his colored nurse who taught him his first
songs and at a very early age she would push him into
a room filled with guests and insist on his showing oflF
his accomplishments.
"Now, Moses, don't touch it:
Now, Moses, you'll catch it;
Now, Moses, don't you hear what I say?"
This was the first song he rendered on such an occasion,
and as he sang it in a very funny way, he was continu-
ally called upon to sing it. At the age of three he sang
very sweetly the Civil War songs, and when five would
sit at the piano and play his own accompaniments.
Seeing his cousins start off for their music lessons, he,
too, would roll some music under his arm and pretend
to go off for a lesson.
Ethelbert did not care much for sports and games,
and more than once he was known to drop the baseball
bat at a most unexpected moment, when he really seemed
most interested, and rush into the house to the piano,
saying, when questioned, "Oh, I just thought of some-
thing I wanted to play." His soul was filled with music.
This musical knowledge, until he was eight, was
merely absorbed from his parents, and when he began
instruction he was still so small that he had to be helped
onto the piano stool. In less than a year he was compos-
ing little melodies, and at ten his first musical produc-
tion, the "Lilian Polka," written for his sister, was pub-
lished, the cover of which bore the words, "By Bertie
Nevin, aged eleven." That same year he played the
Wagner-Liszt "Tannhauser March" at a public concert.
169
TALKS TO MOTHERS
At fourteen, the family being in Dresden, he had the
fortune to be able to take lessons from Boehm, and his
mother says that many happy hours these two seemed
to spend in each other's company, playing and talking
together.
Although given the opportunity to take a college
course, and to become a business man with the prospect
of possessing material wealth, it is little to be wondered
at that a boy whose second language was music, to whom
music was life and his whole life, should beg to be re-
leased from such uncongenial work and should come to
his father with the words, "Let me be poor all my life
and be a musician." Is it to be wondered at that the
father granted the plea?
XX
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
"I know a person small —
She keeps ten million serving men
Who get no rest at all !
She sends 'em abroad on her own affairs
From the second she opens her eyes —
One million Hows, two million Wheres,
And seven million Whys!"
Kipling
CURIOSITY is an instinct that shows itself long
before a child can speak, and it seems to last
through life. Calling it a spirit of investigation, which
it really is, we see that it is a fine thing, rightly guided,
and the curious child forges ahead, acquiring valuable
knowledge every day. The baby wishes to know all
about the things that he takes into his hands. After look-
ing the article over very carefully, he puts it into his
mouth for further study. In that way he learns its taste
and consistency. The next step is to throw the subject
of his interest down, that he may know how much noise
it will make and whether or not it will break.
We all know the "small person" of Kipling's lines.
The reason for all of her "Whys," "Hows," and
"Wheres" is quite plain; she is feeling about for the
good things of heaven and earth. We can make her ques-
tions, even the idle ones a means of education, by re-
garding them as helps toward intimacy, and suggestions
for topics of conversation.
171
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"what does the crocodile have for dinner?"
If you have not laughed with the "Elephant's Child,"
you must do so at once. The "Elephant's Child" is one
of Kipling's "Just So Stories," and the little elephant,
so full of insatiable curiosity, is a very acceptable com-
panion for a leisure half-hour. The Elephant's Child
questions all of his relations, and in reply he is soundly
spanked: not with the trunk, however, as up to the
time of the story elephant's trunks were unknown. Any
patience his relations may have had with his questions
gave way completely when he asked, "What does the
crocodile have for dinner? " A fine new question that he
had never asked before. His relations all fall to spanking
him, and when it is over, he being "a little warm, but
not at all astonished," starts out to find out about the
crocodile's diet for himself. He has a great experience, for
he not only finds the answer to his question, but returns
from his expedition, having acquired a trunk. The story
is the fanciful answer to the question, "How did the
elephant get his trunk?" We learn many things as we
read this story, and we have a good laugh as well.
" In children a great curiousness is well
Who have themselves to learn, and all the world "
Tennyson
Every question, no matter how thoughtless, can be
answered in a way that will help the questioner to learn
something about himself and his world. It is difficult to
prepare for the task of answering, as one never knows
the day or the hour when the next tax will be placed
upon his fund of knowledge, nor does one know what in
172
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
the world the nature of it will be. One or two suggestions
may help. Pay serious attention to all questions if you
wish to be loved by the *' seeker after truth." If the
question is not a good one, your answer may improve
the quality of future questions, by showing the lack of
thought back of the question just asked. Then (and this
is hard) learn to say, "I do not know." Here is a chance
to develop the research method — if turning to the dic-
tionary for help, can be called by such a name. "I do
not know" — with "VvTiat do you think.?" added — '
shows a flattering deference to opinion, and this may
help the "small person" to understand deferring to
your opinion with ease and grace.
Let us think of your child's education as a ladder
which he slowly climbs roimd by round. The first round
of this ladder is curiosity. The child asks questions be-
cause he wishes to know. Some one has said that children
and wise men ask questions. Sir Isaac Newton dis-
covered the law of gravitation because he asked ques-
tions. He saw an apple fall to the ground. Many other
men had seen apples fall to the ground and nothing had
happened. Sir Isaac Newton asked, "Why does the
apple fall.?" He set himself to watch and study. He
found the answer in the law which makes all falling
bodies seek the center of the earth.
Active, intelligent children ask why questions all day
long — it is their means of gaining knowledge. Mothers
can help or hinder children in their search for knowledge.
A little boy taken by his mother to a store saw for
the first time a cash ball sent along its channel to the
cashier's window." Why does the ball roll there?" asked
173
TALKS TO MOTHERS
the little boy. "To make little boys ask questions, I
suppose," said the mother impatiently. Will that child
ask his mother many more questions? Will he stop ask-
ing questions? Or will he ask some one else? If he should
stop asking, it would hinder his gain in intelligence.
Foolish, untruthful answers are very harmful. Many
questions are beyond your power to answer. Many are
foolish. Silence is a wise method of dealing with a fool-
ish question. Silence is the best reproof and the best way
to make the child think. Froebel advises parents to walk
out with their children to see what there is in the world.
He says,^ "Father, mother, be not afraid: do not say,
*I myself know nothing; how can I teach my child?'
That you know nothing may well be; that is not the
greatest ill, if only you are willing to learn : if you know
nothing, do as the child does: ... be a child with your
child, a scholar with your scholar; and with him let
yourself be taught by Mother Nature, and by the
Father, God's spirit in Nature : God's Spirit and Nature
herself will lead and teach you, if you will let yourself
be taught. Say not, 'I have not studied; I have not
learned.' Who taught the first man. Go like him to the
fountain-head ! One great aim of the university, indeed,
is to give sight, to open the inward eye, for what is
within and without; but it would be sad for the race of
man if none could see but those who have studied at
the university! And if you, parents and teachers, train
your children and pupils as early as possible to see and
to think, then universities will become what they ought
and aim to be — schools for learning the highest spirit
^ Students' Froebd.
174
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
ual truths* . . . Follow, then, quietly and thoughtfully,
children's questions; these will teach you and them; for
these questions come from the human spirit, still child-
like, and what a child as a boy asks a parent, this a grown
man will be able to answer. But you say : ' Children and
boys ask more than parents, than grown men, can an-
swer,' and it is so. When you cannot give the knowl-
edge they ask for, you stand either at the frontier of
the earthly, or the gate of the divine; if so, then speak
out simply ('I do not know, for it cannot be known'),
and the mind and heart of child and boy will be satis^
fied; or you stand only at the limit of your own knowh
edge; then be not afraid to say so ('I know not; others
may; you will, sometime')."
A mother took her four-year-old boy to a kindergar-
ten, saying to the teacher: *'I have brought Percy here
because I can't answer any more why questions. Yes-
terday I said, * Percy, I can't answer any more why
questions,' and he said at once, * Why can't you answer
any more why questions,'^' I hope you can help to an-
swer some of his questions." "I will try," said the kin-
dergartener, "to help him to answer his own questions."
This was a wise response.
"l WANT TO SEE THE WHEELS GO ROUND "
You remember the famous story of "Helen's Babies,"
who always wanted to see the wheels go round. All ba-
bies are like Helen's babies. The ticking watch, the
swinging pendulum, the swaying branches of trees, the
whirling leaves, the sailing kite, the noisy pile-driver,
and the long train of cars — all of these moving objects
175
TALKS TO MOTHERS
arouse the interest of little children. The moving things
seem to have life, their mov-ement is fascinating. The
curious child must explore, he must see the inside of the
watch to jBnd out the source of its life. The little girl
punches out the eyes of her doll to see what makes
them open and shut. The boy destroys his toy windmill
to discover what makes it turn. Kind grandpa and
sometimes a kind father will take baby on his knee and
show him the inside of the watch or hold the watch
close to baby's ear that he may better hear the ticking.
Richard had been told that steam confined was a very
strong force. He wanted to find out if this was true. He
tied the lid on the tea-kettle and put it over a hot fire.
The lid was blown off and Richard was burned. This
was a dangerous experiment, because there was no older
person to direct; but the desire to find out was a good
one. Watt discovered how to make the steam engine
by watching his grandmother's tea-kettle.
Jacob Abbott, in his " Gentle Measures for the Young,"
^ives an incident which mothers may well ponder. Sev-
eral children were playing in the back yard. They de-
cided that they would like to dig a well. They went in
to ask mother's permission. *'Yes," said the mother.
"Put on long aprons so you will keep your clothes
clean and dry, and go to work. How will you make it.?"
*'We dig a deep hole with our shovels and then fill it
with water." "Very well," said the mother, "try it."
She might have said, "Nonsense, how foolish! Of
course water will not stay in the well — it will soak into
the soil." But this mother was wise; she let her children
discover for themselves. They poured in many pails
176
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
of water and found out that they could not make a
well that way. They began to look and to inquire how
wells are made. Every new discovery leads a child to
try more and to seek farther.
Garrets, back yards and deep woods are charming
places for discovery and exploration. Give the children
room and opportimity and materials and they will find
the answers to many questions.
Froebel named his kindergarten playthings "Gifts" ^
because they give something to a child that he needs.
They give him material to explore and to use.
There are many simple experiments which children
can make in their own homes. They watch the little
rills of water on a rainy day running down the window-
panes and making streams of water in the sidewalks
and in the gutters. They watch to see where the brooks
run away. They begin to see how brooks are formed.
They see the steps and walks grow wet and dripping.
The sun comes out and the wet disappears. Where has it
gone? Let your children fill a saucer with water, and
place it where they can watch it, to see the gradual dis-
appearance. You can tell them that the water is taken
up by the air or evaporates. They will watch to see how
slowly the clothes dry on a cloudy day and how quickly
on a sunny or windy day.
A group of children in a kindergarten had made a dye
of cochineal to color some sticks for play use. The dye
was kept in a tumbler on a shelf. The children noticed
that the liquid grew less day by day. They saw the red
rim on the tumbler where the dye had been. At last
* S«e Nora Atwood's Kindergarten Theory and Practice, chap. iv.
177
TALKS TO MOTHERS
only the minute insect bodies were left in the bottom of
the glass. " I suppose the bugs were too heavy to go into
the air," was the explanation given by an intelligent boy.
A wise man asks questions because he is wise and
knows that he needs to learn many things. A child asks
questions because he wishes to become wise. In "Talks
to Children," in vol. iii of this series, you will find an-
swers to many of the questions your children ask. Some
day they will read it for themselves. Now it is your privi-
lege to be the source of wisdom. It is a great tribute to
a father or mother when a child says, *'I know it is so
because my mother said so," or "My father said so."
The origin of young animals, including himself, sooner
or later interests the little questioner. But too often his
simple questions are sternly, and with horror, set aside.
Then, of course, he has to make a story, and legends
have developed in this way, giving us the stork, and
the babies that hide in pond-lilies, waiting for their
mothers. Legends are all very well in their way, but we
should see that all important questions are faithfully
answered, and such are the wonderments about human
creation. Edward Porter St. John in Child Nature and
Child Nurture says: "The child's natural curiosity opens
the opportunity to give such instruction in a healthful
way. The invariable questions as to his own origin, and
as to where his baby brother or sister came from, and his
observation of pets, domestic animals, and wild crea-
tures about the home, introduce the subject in the ideal
way. Thus the essential facts about the origin of life can
be clearly given at a time and in a way that cannot pos-
sibly offer any suggestion of impurity. A child who is
178
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
so taught feels as he grows older that he has always
known these things; Nature's ways seem natural to him.
There is no shock of revelation at a time when it is unfor-
tunate that his thought should be strongly directed to
these things. If the information has been wisely given,
his ideas have been pure from the first and they are not
easily perverted.
Curiosity sometimes takes a bad form. "Paul Pry" is
often held up to children as a warning against looking
into things which are forbidden and interfering with
the property of others. Curiosity like every other in-
stinct must be curbed and directed. If a child is allowed
to ask about other people's affairs and to pry into things
which do not concern him, he becomes a nuisance. He
may develop into the adult who always "wants to
know" about all the neighbors, and who rejoices in
scandal and gossip.
There are two old myths which warn us against mis-
directed curiosity. It is well to tell those to children who
are over-curious. Do you know the story of "Pandora's
Box" and "Odysseus and the Bag of Winds"? Both
teach a good lesson.^
THE SECRET
By Isa L. Wright
Pattie was very fond of fairy stories. If she had n't
been, the lovely thing that came to her could never
have come in the delightfully happy way it did. And
this is the way it all began:
^ See appendix for " Thinking and Answering," by Dr. Woods
Hutchinson.
179
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Mother was reading a story about the fairy wishing
gate, and the story said, "A wishing gate, as every one
knows, is made of two straight sticks. Just cross your
fingers and you will see what a wishing gate looks like."
So, of course, Pattie crossed her finger. "Here's my
wishing gate," she laughed.
Mother read on. "And to find the wishing gate, you
must walk and walk till you come to it. Then if you
climb upon it, and wish your wish, in the fairies' own
good time it will come true. But if you never find the
wishing gate, you will know that wishing wishes on a
fairy wishing gate is not for you."
Then the story went on to tell of a little girl who
did find it, wished her wish, and in the fairies' own good
time found it coming true.
"I am so glad she got her wish," Pattie said. "Only
I should have wished for something much nicer than
a doll."
"What?" asked mother.
Pattie thought a minute. "There are so many
things, mother," she began. "If I could only have one
wish, it would have to be something for daddy and
you and me all together. I should have to think a long
time before I decided."
And right that very mmute, mother leaned over
and whispered something — something that made
Pattie dance up and down. "That is exactly what I
should wish for, mother!" she cried.
And, of course, the next morning, she walked and
walked. Mother knew why she was walking and walk-
ing, and Bobs, the dog, was with her. Pattie crossed
180
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
her fingers. "That is the way it will look," she said to
herself. And she walked and walked and walked some
more. Then Bobs gave a funny httle bark. I do not
know what he was barking at, but Pattie said she knew,
for just when she looked up, she saw something that
made her catch her breath and run fast. Folks called
it a stile, but Pattie smiled and she climbed right up
and wished her wish. It was a delightful wish, the hap-
piest one you could imagine. If you know something
that would make your mother and father and you the
happiest people imaginable, then maybe you have
guessed Pattie*s wish. I can't tell you now what it
was, but I can tell you that Pattie was too happy for
words all the way home, and Bobs wagged his tail and
barked as though he understood, too. Pattie ran into
the house and told mother all about it, and they de-
cided, then and there, that it was a secret and must
be told to no one.
"We will tell daddy everything except the wish,"
smiled Pattie. And mother agreed.
Daddy looked very much surprised when he heard
about it. "H-m-m," he said, smoothing Pattie 's hair,
"so it is something nice for mother and father and
little Pattie. Well, I hope it will hurry up and come
true."
"Of course we all do," laughed Pattie, "but it is lots
of fun thinking about it, too."
Now the little, cuddly, yellow chickens down by
the barn began to notice how very, very happy Pattie
was. "She dances all the time," they told their mother,
"£.nd slie keeps singing to herself."
181
TALKS TO MOTHERS
Bobs, the dog, smiled. "She has a secret," he told
them all. "It is a wish that is coming true."
"How does she know that it is coming true.^" asked
the chicks.
"She wished it on the wishing gate. I was there
when she did it," said Bobs, very proudly.
"Oh, then you know what she wished." All ne
little chickens pattered close to him. "Tell us!"
"Indeed, I do not know the wish." Bobs held his
head up high. "Pattie is a girl who can keep a secret.
She has n't even told her daddy."
"Why, what can it be.^" All the baby chicks twisted
their little heads curiously. "Maybe she wished for a
new doll buggy. We heard her say the old one was
broken."
"Indeed she did not. She wished for something for
her mother and father and herself all together," Bobs
told them.
"What can it be?" the baby chicks said again. "Can
you imagine, mother.^"
Mrs. Hen opened her eyes wide. "I am not going to
try," she answered. "It is Pattie's secret." And she
shut her bill tight.
" I wonder — " said one yellow chick to himself
again.
And he was not the only one that was wondering.
The roly-poly kittens in the barn noticed Pattie the
first day they opened their eyes. "She is a very happy
little child, mother," they all said.
"She has reason to be," their mother told them. "She
has a very happy secret that is coming true."
182
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
"Does she know that it is coming true?" they asked.
"Of course!" Mrs. Pussy was quite positive. "She
wished it on the fairies' wishing gate, and in the fairies*
own good time, it will come true."
"Did she wish for a new tea-set or a box of paints?
She was playing with broken ones this morning."
"Indeed not! She wished for something that her
mother and father and herself could enjoy all together,"
Mrs. Pussy told them, as she washed their faces.
"What do you suppose it is, mother?" they asked.
"I don't suppose at all," said Mother Cat. "It is
Pattie's secret."
But the little kittens kept on wondering.
Something else was wondering, too. The little wad-
dling ducklings by the pond were talking about Pattie.
"Her eyes grow brighter every day," they said one
morning.
"No wonder," quacked Mrs. Duck. "Her secret is
coming true."
All the Httle bills opened wide. "WTien?" they asked.
"In the fairies' own good time," said Mother Duck.
"Maybe she wished for a story-book," they ventured.
"She likes fairy stories."
"No, children," smiled Mrs. Duck. "She wished for
something that her mother and father and she could
enjoy together, but I do not know what the wish
was."
"Can't you guess?" they inquired.
"I shall not try," she told them. "It is Pattie's secret.
Come on now and have your swim."
It was while they were paddling around in the pond
183
TALKS TO MOTHERS
that Pattie came out wearing her httle blue coat and
her little blue hat and her very happiest smile.
"Good-bye, little ducks! Good-bye, little chicks!
Good-bye, little kittens!" she called. "I am going to
the city to visit Aunt Mary and my wish is coming true."
And off she danced.
"Now we know! Now we know the wish!" cheeped
all the little swimmers in the pond.
"Do you?" asked Mrs. Duck, with a smile, and she
shook her wise head.
"Mother, did you hear?" peeped the baby chicks.
"We have found out the secret."
"Have you?" inquired their mother, smiling. And
she, too, shook her head.
Even Mrs. Pussy was smiling when her children called
to her, "Mother, Pattie told us her secret!"
"Did she?" Mother Pussy asked it in a very funny
way. Then she laughed.
"Well, if that is n't the secret, then what is it?" asked
all the little chicks and all the little ducks and all the
little kittens of their mothers.
"You will find out," smiled the three mothers.
It was three days after that when Pattie came back,
wearing the same little blue hat and the same little blue
coat and the same happy smile. She ran right into the
house as fast as she could go.
"Oh! oh! oh!" tiiey heard her say, and then they
heard her laugh and then they heard her sing. And last
of all, they heard her say, "I am so happy!"
"The wish has come true," said everybody. "What
can it be?"
184
THE QUESTIONING CHILD
"I know," Bobs told them. "They let me in the house
this morning. But it is Pattie's secret so I will let her
tell it."
"I know what it is," said a little chick; "it's a doll
buggy!"
Bobs just stretched himself.
"I think it is a new dress," guessed a httle black
kitten.
"She wanted one," added a baby duckling.
"Be still, children!" the three mothers said. "You
can't guess it. You will have to wait and Pat tie will tell
you."
And of course she did. In fact Pat tie brought it out
to show them, with the help of daddy, for it was too
heavy for a little girl to carry. And when it was right
there before their very eyes, Pattie said, "Look, Mother
Hen and Mother Pussy and Mother Duck! We have a
baby of our own, mother and daddy and I."
And you may very well believe that all the three
mothers and all their many children did look at the
wee-est little baby with eyes as blue as the sky and
cheeks as soft as a rose petal.
"What a lovely secret!" said all the little ducks and
all the little chicks and all the little kittens.
"The happiest secret in all the world!" said their
mothers.
XXI
THE LIGHT-BIRD
"We most do own what we own not.
But what is free to all :
A sunset light upon the sea,
A passing strain of melody
Are ours beyond recall!"
Mother Play
LITTLE EDWIN is just a year old. He crawls all
over the floor, picking up anything he sees. He
tries to pick up the spot of sunlight which lies upon the
floor where the sun shines through the windows. Yester-
day he was charmed by a picture on a magazine cover.
He patted the child in the picture repeatedly. Then he
tried to pick up the stick and ball the child was carrying.
His older brother delights in shining bits of tin, or
pieces of a broken mirror. With these he flashes spots of
light upon the floor or wall. He loves to watch their
dancing motion. In the kindergarten, we make this into
a play and call it the "Light-Bird." The children run
and spring to catch the flitting sun spots. They also love
to watch the rainbow made on the table or floor by the
prism hung in the window where it may catch the sun's
rays.
Why is it that children wish to hold in their hands
whatever attracts them.? They know no other form of
possession. Their little hands reach out for all they
desire. The bright and beautiful they wish to keep and
186
THE LIGHT-BIRD
hold, and they know no other way than by grasping.
Sometimes the desire to touch and to hold in the hands
persists into more advanced years, as witness the signs
in museums and picture galleries: "Don't touch." We
do not see a fine vase or a painted dish any better for
holding it. But many persons do not know this truth,
else we should not see "Hands off" on tables in china
shops.
There are some things which children should not
handle. A butterfly loses its beauty when it is caught.
A fish dies if it is taken out of water. A wild bird dies
when caged. Flowers perish with handling. A field of
buttercups and daisies is a sight to gladden the eyes.
It is not necessary to pull them up nor to gather them
by handfuls to enjoy them. Can we not take memory-
pictures of them? "Look well at them," we may say;
"then shut your eyes and think how pretty they are."
I was once driving with a friend along the shore of a
lovely lake set in a circle of hills. It was a summer after-
noon. The sun was low and the hills were clothed in gray
and amethyst. "I am going to shut my eyes," said my
friend, "and get this picture in my mind, then some dark
winter's day I can see it again."
At the end of a summer vacation I wrote to a friend :
**I am returning to the city. I am leaving behind the
green fields, the road winding by the shining river, and
the sunset glow upon the hills." My friend replied: "You
cannot leave behind anything which you have once
enjoyed. All the sunsets you have ever seen, you carry
with you forever. On any cold and dreary day you can
escape to the green fields and shining river. You can
187
TALKS TO MOTHERS
never lose the pictures hung in the mansions of the
mind."
The wife of a country minister with a poor and scat-
tered parish had much work to do for her seven children.
There was washing and baking and cleaning and dressing
the children, and making their clothes and getting them
ready for school and church.
"Often when I am very tired," she said, "I just sit
down a minute by myself and listen to hear the larks
sing in Ireland, as they sang in my childhood."
MAKING MIND PICTURES
Kindergarten children play a quiet game sometimes.
They close their eyes and think lovely pictures. They
see again the fish in the brook as their eyes saw them in
the last walk. Or they see mother or baby at home.
An Italian mother came to a kindergartner and asked :
"What is it you do to Niccolini that she does such queer
things.'* Sometimes she just sits quiet and shuts her
eyes. I say, 'What are you doing, Niccolini.?' and she
say: *I am making Light-Bird and I see Miss Blandy's
smile.'"
Little Eddie Foster said to this same teacher, "I
wanted to bring an Easter card for you; but I could n't
bring it."
"Never mind," said Miss Blandy; "I shall be happy
to think that you wished to bring it."
" I knew you 'd make a Light-Bird out of it, and here 's
your Light-Bird," said Eddie, as he took a bit of broken
glass out of his pocket.
The "Mother Play" book has a picture for the Light-
188
THE LIGHT-BIRD
Bird. A mother and several children are shown. They
are all trying to catch something. One brother has a
little looking-glass in his hand. He is flashing a bright
spot on the wall to amuse the baby. This is a part of the
conversation about the picture:
"* Mother what are the children doing?'
"*They wish to catch butterflies.'
"Two little girls have a net, one tries with her hand
and another with her handkerchief.
"*What is the little girl doing who stands so still by
the wall? Look, she is trying to get over the wall to help
the others catch the butterflies, but the wall is too high.'
***But the little boy can get over the wall. I could do
it. Why does n't he try? He is looking at his brother who
is trying to get the swallows under the roof, but the
swallows fly away.'
** 'But those two children sitting so still on the hilltop.
They are not trying to catch anything.'
"*Yes, my child, they are trying to get something.
Guess what?'
***! do not know.'
"* Yonder over the sea the sun is setting. They would
like to hold its golden rays. Do you think they can?'
" 'How can you think so, mother? The sun is far away
behind the hills and the rays are only shine.'
"'And yet the children can hold them.'
"'No, mother, that cannot be true.'
"'Yes, my child, they catch them through their eyea
and hold them in their hearts.
"'Do you remember father's loving eyes when he said
good-bye to you as he went away, and have you not
189
TALKS TO MOTHERS
just told me that you thought of it when you asked,
"Will not dear father soon come?" *
"*Yes, mother, I see him all the time, dear father.*
"*You see you can keep father's love even when you
cannot see him.'
"*Yes, indeed, I can, mother.'"
TRUE OWNERSHIP
"All lovely things belong to me.
The sun is shining on the sea.
The wind is whispering to the tree.
The lark is singing in the sky.
The fleecy clouds are sailing by;
I am as rich as I can be.
For all these things belong to me.
No one can take these joys away.
For in my heart they ever stay."
Is it not worth while to give children this idea of true
possession? Will it not give them a source of wealth
which cannot be destroyed? In "Prue and I," George
William Curtis describes the Sunday walk of an old
bookkeeper, who is confined to his desk all the week.
Old Titbottom says to his friend:
"*I am glad I own this landscape.'
"*You?' returned I.
"* Certainly,' said he.
"*Why,' I answered, *I thought this was part of
Bourne's property?'
"Titbottom smiled.
"'Does Bourne own the sun and sky? Does Bourne
own that sailing cloud, yonder? Does Bourne own the
golden luster of the grain, or the motion of the wood,
190
THE LIGHT-BIRD
or those ghosts of hills that glide pallid along the hori-
zon? Bourne owns the dirt and fences; I own the beauty
that makes the landscape, or otherwise how could I own
castles in Spain?'
"That was very true. I respected Titbottom more
than ever."
Jenny Wren, Dickens's dolls' dressmaker, has a supply
of treasures not known to all. She says to her friend,
Lizzie :
"* Talking of ideas, my Lizzie' (they were sitting side
by side as they had sat at first), *I wonder how it hap-
pens that when I am work, work, working here, all
alone in the summer-time, I smell flowers.'
" * As a commonplace individual, I should say,' Eugene
suggested languidly, — for he was growing weary of the
person of the house, — ' that you smell flowers because
you do smell flowers.'
"*No, I don't,' said the little creature, resting one
arm upon the elbow of her chair, resting her chin upon
that hand, and looking vacantly before her; 'this is not
a flowery neighborhood. It's anything but that. And
yet, as I sit at work, I smell miles of flowers. I smell
roses till I think I see the rose-leaves lying in heaps,
bushels, on the floor. I smell fallen leaves till I put down
my hand, so, and expect to make them rustle. I smeU
the white and the pink May in the hedges, and all sorts
of flowers that I never was among. For I have seen very
few flowers, indeed, in my life.'
"'Pleasant fancies to have, Jenny, dear!' said her
friend: with a glance toward Eugene as if she would
191
TALKS TO MOTHERS
have asked him whether they were given the child in
compensation for her losses.
*'*So I think, Lizzie, when they come to me. And the
birds I hear — Oh ! ' cried the little creature, holding out
her hand and looking upward, *How they sing!"*
So much misery in life comes from broken hopes and
vain desires, from lost wealth and disappointed struggles,
that I cannot conceive of any better lesson that children
may learn than this of the Light-Bird. In its highest
form it points us to the treasures which endure, when
moth and rust corrupt earthly treasures and thieves
break through and steal.
King Midas thought that gold would make him happy.
He longed for the touch which would turn everything
to gold. He found that his golden touch destroyed his
happiness. It turned his loved daughter to a golden
image and deprived him of all the joy of loving affection.
The gold was not worth that price, and King Midas was
glad to lose the golden touch in order to regain his child
and his flowers and singing birds and the true joys of life.
Goods and gold may be lost; but what w^e hold in our
hearts is ours forever. So let our children sing:
"But eyes may catch
And hearts may hold
The Light-Bird on the wall."
xxn
THE SOCIAL CHILD
**Up and down, and in and out.
Toss the little limbs about.
By and by in work and play.
They'll be busy all the day."
Froebel
FROEBEL tells us that if little babies are to gro^
properly, in mind and body, they must have play
and companionship. He arranged for the baby's play-
time, and the mothers who follow his play suggestions
have happy babies, and so are happy themselves. The
first simple little plays are not more than gentle exer-
cise, as the verse just quoted implies. But the baby is
interested if his mother plays with him. Babies need
mothering. We are told that hundreds of babies, cared
for well and scientifically in large institutions, die for
lack of it. Play and companionship are worth living to
enjoy. A deHcate baby, with no joy in life, which is
nothing more than the right amount of cuddhng, often
slips away to Heaven where perhaps his mother is. The
matrons of large institutions tell us that this is true.
Too much rocking, too much jumping and singing
are bad for a baby, of course. Why should it be assumed
that unless a child is being shaken violently every min-
ute, he will cry.? The years of life that lie before the baby
depend largely, for their peace and calm, upon the way
in which his first years are spent.
193
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"More closely bound.
By love, than if by iron girded round."
Froebel
The home — and Froebel thought it more important
than the school or the church — holds all of the social
side of life needed by the little child. His mother is his
first best playmate, and when he comes to play with
toys he still lacks interest in other children. He will
take his favorite plaything and indifferently leave a
little guest, retiring to a corner to play alone. Later he
longs for a playmate, and if he has no brothers and sis.
ters, he will imagine a companion. These imaginary ones
are very real. A little child was going into the house, and
the screen door closed with a slam behind her. She
looked out and said politely, "Excuse me, for slamming
the door in your face." She once talked of this invisible
playmate with her aunt, but as a rule she was very
sensitive about her. "You need somebody little to
play with when you live with aunts," she said; and then
in a lower tone, "but she's very queer-looking." The
aunts had been told to watch any playmates the child
might have with great care. This invisible intruder
presented diflSculties, but "the queer-looking," imag-
inary one taught them of the child's social need, and al-
though she came and went for several years the invisible
playfellow was no longer the child's only companion.
Character forms as children play together. The fric-
tion resulting from the fact that two or three are inter-
ested in the same play and the same toys is very refining
if lawlessness and ill-feeling are not allowed to enter in.
Certain qualities, such as justice, stability, and self-
194
THE SOCIAL CHILD
control, come through group play, as children need to
"give up" and consider the interests of others. At play-
time they learn the meaning of the Golden Rule, and it
serves them through life. It is true that mothers need to
know their children's friends. If she can survive being
the mother at whose house it is the most fun to play, she
will have every advantage. To sew or read within sound,
and perhaps sight, of the children as they play, will give
many an opportunity for training. A mother's merry
laugh or friendly comment will often turn an affair with
a serious aspect into a joke. A little sympathetic help in
the matter of costumes, and "dressing up" or readiness
in the providing of refreshments, will wnn for her many
a laurel. It is an honor to be told a secret, and of course
as many good times are surprises, secrets are plenty.
The beauty of being told such secrets is that one con-
fidence paves the way for another, and they grow more
and more important as times goes on.
When happy brothers and sisters play together there
is not such great need for inviting the neighbor's chil-
dren. But, obviously, except in the case of twins, broth-
ers and sisters play with those older or younger than
themselves. Think of the joy there is in the presence
of a chosen, intimate friend exactly one's own age !
" And he who gives a child a home
Builds palaces in Kingdom come."
John Masefield
In a real home meal-time is happy. Our grandmothers
believed that children should be seen and not heard at
table. Yet there is no time so favorable for training in
195
TALKS TO MOTHERS
courtesy as dinner-time, and children do not look with
disfavor upon lessons happily learned as they rejoice
the inner man. It is true that the seen-and-not-heard
children of long ago were less rude than are the children
of to-day. Are the mothers too tired to bother? Are
the fathers absorbed in the workaday aspect of life, for-
getting all else?
A story is told of a New England farmer, hailed by
a stranger who asked him to be set on the right road.
The stranger observed the stones and other signs of
poor crops, and with a note of scorn in his voice, he
asked, "And what, may I ask, do you raise in a place
like this?" The farmer replied without hesitation,
"Men." Lack of material comforts is a great advantage
many times in the raising of men.
No matter how simple the meal, life lessons can be
learned, and there is not the feeling that lessons have
been left around in a child's way, as fly-paper is placed
to catch flies. At table nobody should be laughed at, but
every one should laugh toith everybody. In one large
family the members take turns at playing that they are
company. The company child is restrained and well-
mannered as beseems a guest, and they all wear their
company manners so much, while being, or entertaining,
a guest, that they become everyday wear. This is good
training and great fun. So is the asking of riddles, and
the telling of good stories. In such ways the standard
of table talk is placed high, but it takes watchful care.
A little family, where the table talk was carefully
guided, entertained a stranger one day at dinner. The
guest was a business acquaintance of the father, and
196
THE SOCIAL CHILD
pride and hospitality prompted the invitation. Before
many minutes had passed, the family was horrified by
the guest's profanity. Even the little ones felt that some-
thing was wrong, and the baby, who was nearing his
fourth birthday, finally said, looking sternly at the of-
fender, ''We talk about pretty things here." There are
enough pretty things to last a lifetime, too.
"He who gives a child a treat
Makes joy bells ring in Heaven's street."
John Masefield
There are many real treats, to be enjoyed without
preparation and among the members of a family.
Reading aloud and story-telling are among the number.
It is a wise plan to lay aside a good story suited to the
ages and interests of the children, to be brought out and
enjoyed on a stormy evening or a Sunday afternoon.
Children love to act and to give little plays or charades
inviting a neighbor or two to increase the size of the
audience.
Parties and picnics are good experiences and the right
sort of moving pictures are also, especially when enjoyed
because father wants everybody to have a good time.
The atmosphere that surrounds the preparation for
the "good time" has a great deal to do with the amount
of pleasure one finds when the good time comes. An
exasperated mother hurried aboard an excursion boat,
one morning, just at sailing time, piloting five small
children. She seated them side by side, and standing
before them she gazed upon their scared little faces,
shining with soap and rubbing. "Now enjoy yourselves!"
197
TALKS TO MOTHERS
she commanded fiercely. But it is not easy to begin to
enjoy one's self at once after a season of terrible prep-
aration. The fun should begin when some one suggests,
"Suppose you get out our best hats and choose a book
to take with us, while I make the sandwiches." Yes,
the fun begins then and there, and never ends so long
as memory lasts.
Little girls adore real parties, and boys, made to at-
tend them, adjust things to taste by turning them into
groups. Simple parties are good for both boys and girls
now and then if plenty of activity is planned. Formality
seems to lead to affectation, and to the discussion of
party clothes. One little girl was heard to say scornfully
to another about a third, "She's home-made, through
and through." We have so many grown people of that
turn of mind at present that they clog the wheels of
progress. This is a needy world, and the children of to-
day must grow up able to help and not to clog.
"Merry have we met, merry have we been;
Merry let us part, and merry meet again."
For little children parties should always be in the after-
noon, and out of doors when the weather permits. Even
when children are old enough to feel that evening is
the most festive time, let everything be simple and the
hours early. The children at whose house the party is to
be given should have some part of the preparation as-
signed them. E the duty is not properly performed, the
child's idea for the party will suffer, and the need for
greater effort in future will be evident.
If the affair takes the form of a picnic, of course the
198
THE SOCIAL CHILD
boys will carry the baskets. Then give them the fun of
cooking potatoes and bacon over a camp-fire. Of po-
tatoes, Mr. E. V. Lucas says quite truly, from the hoy
point of view:
"But if you wish to taste them.
As Nature meant you should.
Why, cook them at a rubbish fire.
And eat them in a wood."
It is good training to insist upon leaving the spot
chosen for the picnic in good order. A few dainties, as
a treat for birds and squirrels, may be left, but nothing
else.
In the minds of some children ice-cream is indispen-
sable at a real party. There are so many pretty ways of
serving junkets, jellies, cakes and candies, that where
it is difficult to serve ice-cream there are delightful sub-
stitutes. Flowers, crepe paper, and processions of ani-
mal crackers make very good table decorations. The
animal crackers can be made to stand on oblong wafers
or crackers by dipping their feet in icing and holding
them for a few seconds in an upright position. But mem-
ory and ingenuity, together with current magazines and
books on the subject, are all one needs, where there is a
will.
"In all earth's happy ways, through peaceful nights and happy days.
His life may forecast Heaven."
Fhoebel
The mission of all forms of happy play is to provide the
right social intercourse, and a wholesome amount of
work and training. Wrong thoughts and wrong activi-
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
ties can be prevented, or completely routed, by filling
a child's pup of pleasure to the brim. It is a wonderful
privilege to arrange a home in such a way that it will
"forecast Heaven."
"Let me but find it in my heart to say
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray —
*This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
Of all who live, I am the one by whom
This work can best be done, in the best way.'"
Henry van Dyke
XXIII
HABITS
"Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old
he will not depart from it."
A MAN going to his office one morning discovered
a low-hanging branch of a tree over his path. He
lifted his cane and hit the branch as he passed. The
next morning he noticed the branch and again hit it
with his cane. The third morning he did the same, also
the fourth and the fifth. Finally he could not pass the
spot without repeating the act of hitting the branch. He
resolved not to do it; but the impulse was too strong
for him, and each day the branch was struck. He became
alarmed over this propensity and consulted a physician.
The physician promised to cure him. The next day he
found that the branch had been cut oS. How did the
physician reason in the matter? The man had formed
a habit by repeated acts. The habit had become so
firmly fixed that the sight of the tree prompted the same
physical movement. The only treatment was to remove
the suggestion to the action. The habit was broken by
cutting off the stimulus to the action.
A sailor who comes ashore rolls along the sidewalk
with the same gait necessary on shipboard. He has be-
come so used to the rolling deck that his way of walk-
ing is fixed in his muscles. He cannot walk in any other
way.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Boys who were drilled in our army camps came home
with an erect posture and a military bearing gained
by long weeks of setting-up exercises. The boy who
slouched lost his bad posture and learned to stand up
straight and tall like a soldier.
The great benefit of physical or gymnastic training is
to give good habits of standing, sitting, and walking.
These make for health as well as for good poise and
movement. The muscular habit is fixed in the right way.
The stooping shoulders of the minister or the teacher
are due to long hours of desk work in a wrong position.
The bent back of the woman may be the result of bend-
ing over sewing or over a low table as she cooks or
washes dishes. The muscles get a certain set by repeated
movements and by continued posture. It is hard to
change them when they are once fixed.
All our ways of doing are established by repetition. We
hold our knives and forks as we held them in childhood
unless we make a great effort to change. We sit erect at
table or we slouch as we were trained to sit in childhood.
We enter a room easily and gracefully or awkwardly
according to our early training. Our habits of speech be-
come fixed very early. We modulate our voices or we pitch
them high as we were accustomed to do in childhood.
MIND HABITS
There are habits of mind as well as of body. We dispute
and argue if we were formed along that line. We are vio-
lent and irritable or calm and reasonable as our early
influences determined.
Habits have much to do with the learning process.
202
HABITS
Children may form habits of quick and careful obser-
vation which are of great help in learning to read and
write and in gaining knowledge of what is about them.
It is well to train children to observe when and how the
buds form on the trees, to watch the birds, to learn of
"The wild wasp's cunning way.
Mason of his wall of clay."
The child in the country has a chance to observe the
signs of the winds and the weather, the planting and
growth of the crops, and the habits of the creatures of
the farm and the woods. All this gives him valuable in-
formation, fosters the habit of looking carefully and of
basing judgments on what has been seen.
The habit of attention should be acquired early in
the home. Children should be trained to listen to what
is said and to hear the first time. They should put their
whole attention on what they are doing at the time.
Listless and divided attention forms a very bad habit
and one difficult to break. The habit of attention makes
easy the work of the school. How many of us wish we
had formed it when we listen to a lecture or a sermon!
HEALTH
Habits have much to do with health. I have already
spoken of posture and of physical training. Our habits
of eating and sleeping and working are all important in
keeping a good health standard. We "get in the way"
of late hours at night. We do not feel like going to bed,
so we sit up later and later. By and by we find we can-
not sleep until a late hour. Why? We have formed a habit.
We rise betimes if we form that habit and it is no hard-
203
TALKS TO MOTHERS
ship. What we eat and how we eat are regulated by our
custom which soon becomes hard to vary. Habits make
us slaves. When we cannot do otherwise, when we must
eat or drink this or that, then we are no longer free.
Alcohol enslaves, because the man yields again and
again to his desire to drink until he is the victim of his
habit. Alcohol is especially dangerous in its habit-form-
ing power because it affects the will-power of its slaves.
Professor James says this of habit:
"Could the young but realize how soon they will
become mere walking bundles of habits, they would
give more heed to their conduct while in the plastic state.
We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never
to be undone. . . . The drunken Rip Van Winkle in
Jefferson's play excuses himself for every fresh derehc-
tion by saying, * I won't count this time ! ' Well ! he may
not count it, and a kind Heaven may not count it; but
it is being counted none the less. Down among his
nerve-cells and fibers the molecules are counting it,
registering and storing it up to be used against him
when the next temptation comes. Nothing we ever do is,
in strict scientific literalness, wiped out. Of course this
has its good side as well as its bad one. As we become
permanent drunkards by so many separate drinks, so
we become saints in the moral, and authorities and
experts in the practical and scientific, spheres, by so
many separate acts and hours of work."
EARLY HABITS
I HAVE spoken of habit in general. We may form new
habits and break old ones at any period of life; but
204
HABITS
childhood is the time when habits are most easily formed.
It is the important time to fix right habits and so dis-
courage bad ones. Two of my students have written
helpful discussions of habit which I share with you.
Rhoda Case writes:
"The habits of a child are of the utmost importance.
There are two main reasons for this. The first is because
one's habits really determine or express one's character.
A very large part of life is habit. Each individual eats,
thinks, talks, dresses, and acts as he is in the habit of
doing. A child who is habitually careless alwaj^s has di-
sheveled hair, unbuttoned blouse, untied ribbons and
shoestrings, and is continually losing his handkerchiefs
and mittens. In contrast, the child with particular habits,
looks neatly and carefully dressed and does not lose his
articles of clothing. We see the same children when they
come to their meals, the one hastily gobbling his food,
spilling it and getting it all over his face and hands; the
other eating quietly and politely. Thus each act in the
daily routine of life becomes subject to our habits.
"Should we begin with the very little child to form
his life habits.'^ By all means; it is the only time to begin.
Those habits formed and practiced in childhood remain
all through life, and it is therefore most important that
great care be taken in guiding the tendencies of the child
into good and useful habits. If a child seems averse to
cleanliness, just so much more particular we must be to
supervise and encourage his daily attempts at washing
himself. And in training these habits it is of vital im-
portance that we do not make any exceptions, We might
think, perhaps, * To-night he is so tired, I '11 let him jimip
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
into bed without a bath.' But very certainly the next
night he will be even more tired, and so it will go until
the exception becomes the habit, which is a bad one.
Another habit is that of placing clothes neatly on a chair
for the night. Perhaps you think it hard for a small
child and too much to expect of him. But a little later,
even though he is older, it is going to be a great deal
harder to begin hanging them up nicely instead of
throwing them on the floor. To break a habit and es-
tablish a new one is twice as hard for the child as to form
a good one originally.
" So we must all give the greatest care and thought to
the forming of our children's habits because our habits
are so much a part of our lives and also because child-
hood is the time for forming good habits."
Elizabeth Fitch says:
"The thousand things that you do during a single
day, from the time you dress yourself to the time you
brush your teeth at night, are mostly acts of habit.
If each act were not habitual, just think of the thought
and attention they would require. Habits enable us to
do the necessary, everyday things without conscious
effort, thus leaving the mind free to do the new things,
to attend to the really interesting things, to solve the
new problems that constantly arise.
"The importance of habit is so very great that we
cannot afford to neglect the habits that children are
acquiring, both at home and at school. If mothers could
realize how the habits of their children depend upon
themselves, they would be saved from much future
trouble.
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HABITS
"Most of the habits that have to do with everyday
things are fixed in childhood. It is therefore the first
duty of a mother to see that her child acquires the
fundamental habits that are necessary for his welfare.
A child forms new habits much more easily than an
older person, and there is the greatest danger of the
formation of undesirable habits. On the other hand, the
child is for the same reason all the more teachable and
can more easily learn good habits.
"It is possible to begin the training of the child's
habits much earlier than most people believe. Wlien a
few days old children can be trained in regular hours of
feeding. Far too many mothers are unaware of the
importance of forming good habits. For instance, as
babies sleep most of the time at first, the habit of going
to sleep does not concern the mother. But in a few weeks
it may be observed that the child's going to sleep at
fixed hours can be controlled by putting him in the right
position and darkening the room.
"Every habit is the result of repetition. If we wish a
child to acquire any particular habit, we must make
sure that he repeats the desired act a sufficient number
of times, and the habit will be there. The problem which
now confronts the mother is, 'How shall I provide suit-
able inducements for repeating the act.^ ' Well, there are
various ways. This does not mean that one must offer
children some reward for practicing or for doing things
in the right way. For example, let us take the child who
mispronounces words. He needs only to hear a word
pronounced properly, and through imitation he will
repeat the correct sounds until they become habitual.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"When we are trying to fix habits in a young child
we should introduce the desired actions into the child's
routine, and insist upon their performance on every
occasion. Until the habit is absolutely fixed, allow no
exceptions to occur. Every exception has its dangers,
because it may introduce new interests, new satisfac-
tions, tempting or leading to a repetition of the excep-
tion and thus making this the new habit. The same
principle applies to the breaking of rules or habits.
Whatever it is that must be stopped, must be stopped
the instant the action is noticed. *Just this once' is the
greatest possible enemy to the development of good
habits, and mothers should learn this and keep it ever
in mind."
There is an old saying, "Let a child run until he is six
and you will never catch him!" Do you see what this
means .^^ Does it not mean the same as the proverb of the
wise Solomon.^ —
"Train up a child in the way he should go; and when
he is old, he will not depart from it."
XXIV
THE OBEDIENT CHILD
"Who has more obedience than I masters me, though he should not
.'aise his finger."
"Next to this quite priceless gift of Peace, I had received the per-
fect understanding of the natures of Obedience and Faith. I obeyed
word, or lifted finger, of father or mother, simply as a ship her helm:
not only without idea of resistance, but receiving the direction as a
part of my own life and force, a helpful law, as necessary to me in
every moral action as the law of gravity in leaping. And my practice
in Faith was soon complete : nothing was ever promised me that was
not given: nothing ever threatened me that was not inflicted, and
nothing ever told me that was not true."
RUSKIN
WHAT shall I do with my child? He won't do
anything I say! How shall I make my boy
mind? He never pays any attention to my desires.'*
These are frequent questions of mothers. Such mothers
do not know that obedience is a habit and must be
formed early. As soon as a baby understands the mean-
ing of "No! No!" then is the time to begin the habit.
A young woman who belonged to a Mothers' Club once
asked advice of the others regarding her five-year-old
boy. He dehghted in dropping china and glass in order
to enjoy the crash of the breaking. She told him not to
touch things : but her commands were of no avail. That
morning he had climbed to the mantel-shelf and thrown
down an expensive vase, one of her wedding presents.
What should she do? An older woman explained to her
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
the difficulty of beginning too late in forming a habit.
She advised her to do certain things now.
First. Never give a needless command, nor an idle
request.
Second. Never forget a command once given.
"You forgot once," said a small boy, when his mother
said to him, "John go wash your hands. Haven't I
always told you never to come to meals without wash-
ing your hands.?'*
It is easy to say, "Don't do this," "You mustn't
touch that," and then forget about it or ignore a viola-
tion of the command even when it is remembered. Many
needless orders are given to children which only irritate
them and invite disobedience. The oft-repeated tale of
the boy who thought his name was "Willy Don't" is a
warning to all mothers. Do is always better than dont —
too many donHs prevent a habit of obedience, for no
child can remember them all.
Third. Be constant as the northern star. Capricious
mothers make disobedient children. X mother who is
tender and indulgent one hour, and stern and impatient
the next, will never control her child. She lacks self-
control, and her example contradicts her words. Nag-
ging, scolding mothers lose all influence with their chil-
dren. Angry words and angry commands will be evaded,
as far as possible, and the atmosphere of friendly, loving
relationship, where obedience is a joy, is lost.
Fourth. Authority must not be arbitrary. Obedience
is a prime virtue of childhood, as obedience to a moral
law is a fundamental virtue in later life. The Garden of
Edeu is pictured to us as a place of happy delight. It was
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THE OBEDIENT CHILD
spoiled by disobedience. Law is necessary to protect us
in the State and in the community; law must reign in the
household if there is to be a happy family and good
training.
"A child rarely fails to see whether what parent and
teacher order or forbid comes from themselves, person-
ally, arbitrarily, or is the expression of universal and
necessary truth speaking through them."
Where such an atmosphere pervades a home, children
readily obey, because all commands are reasonable and
rooted in the nature of things. "The family," says
Froebel, "is more than church or school or state, for he
who is reared in a family unhallowed by the presence
of justice and law tends to become a scoffer of one and
a rebel against the other."
Fifth. Do not use threats or bribes. "Say good-night
to all the ladies," said a mother to her little girl. The
child ran away behind the stairs and said nothing.
"Come," said the mother, "there's a good little girl!
Say good-night like a lady." Still the child hid. "Let
me tell you something," said the mother. This call suc-
ceeded. The mother whispered, "Say good-night and
I'll give you some candy upstairs." The little girl said,
"Good-night," and ran upstairs to receive her reward.
\Miere was the harm in this.?^ Would that little girl wait
the next time to be offered some inducement before obey-
ing? The habit formed was delay and disobedience.
Dr. Montessori is wise in offering no reward for good
conduct. Children should learn to do the right thing
because it is right and get their satisfaction in the doing.
Little pleasures and treats should come as a part of the
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
happy home life, not as rewards for doing what ought
to be done. A special pleasure like a picnic or an excur-
sion may sometimes come as the legitimate end of a
well-performed duty where special effort has been re-
quired. We may go nutting when the leaves have been
raked in the dooryard or the potatoes sorted.
A bully uses a threat. It is an unworthy means of ap-
peal to children. '*If j^ou do that again, I'll tell father";
"Just you try that again and see what happens": these
are some of the threats one sometimes hears. What is
the result.^ If the child obeys, it is through fear of conse-
quences. No real element of obedience exists. The obe-
dience is seeming, not real. The appeal to fear weakens
the child's moral sense; gradually he becomes either
timid and cringing or hardened and impertinent. If the
child does not obey and the mother forgets to tell the
father, and nothing happens, a premium is put on dis-
obedience. Threats mean nothing and authority is dis-
counted.
Sixth. Obedience should be happy and willing. When
we are in a good home where peace reigns and children
are good all the time, it seems the normal atmosphere
and easily attained. The secret hes in making obedience
and a cheerful response to the parents the constant
practice of the family. The baby is taught that "No,
No!" "Don't touch," mean something. The habit of
obedience becomes fixed.
I was once privileged to be a guest in a home where
four Hvely, active, happy children had the blessing of
wise and good parents and constant training in law and
order. "Ruth, go and get me to-day's paper from the
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THE OBEDIENT CHILD
sitting-room," said the father one night at the supper
table. Ruth hesitated an instant. The table was bright,
the company pleasant, the food inviting. It was hard
to leave the cheerful scene even for a moment. *'Ruth!"
said the father firmly. That was all, but Ruth went.
There was no scene of discipline, no friction, no unhappi-
ness. The paper was brought, the item found and read,
and every one was happy. Such a home atmosphere is
created by the sympathetic cooperation of father and
mother and the constant and early practice of the habit
of obedience.
Seventh. Obedience leads to self-control. Little Louise
was at a child's party where candy was passed several
times, but Louise took none. "She is on a diet," the older
sister explained, "and candy is forbidden." Through
obedience Louise was learning to master her desires.
How many wrecked hves might be saved if all chil-
dren learned early to say, "No!" Do not think you
make your children happy by indulging them and letting
them have all they desire. Happiness is won by content.
Contentment comes only when one learns to subdue
desire.
The obedient child can be trusted away from home.
He does the right thing because he has learned to con-
trol himself.
It is the custom in many kindergartens to require a
short period of quiet after some active exercise. The rest
is desirable, and gives opportunity for quiet self-control.
No matter what Mary wishes to say or do, she must
wait until the signal is given to "wake up." Then all
"wake up" together and work or play reigns again. The
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
noisy home where loud commands are given and shrill,
high tones prevail affords no chance for children to think
and decide for themselves and use training in self-
determination.
TEACHING DISOBEDIENCE
"I'll teach you to strike your little sister!" says an
angry mother as she gives a blow to the offending child.
And she does. She does not really mean to teach her
child to strike: but she is doing so. "I'll teach you to
disobey me again!" says another mother when a child
has neglected some duty. And she does. The child is
made sullen and obstinate by such harshness and has no
desire to conform to the mother's desires.
Do not repeat a command if you wish obedience.
Too much repetition weakens the effect of the words.
"How many times must I tell you?" says a mother in
despair. The trouble is she has told too many times.
When children know a direction is likely to be repeated,
they do not take the trouble to attend the first time.
Many directions given at the same time confuse a child
and make obedience diflScult. If you say, "Mary, stop-
playing a minute and run upstairs and get my handker-
chief from the right-hand corner of the top drawer of
my bureau, and mind you don't touch anything on the
bureau," you are suggesting too much for a child to fol-
low. Mary will probably stop on the stairs and ask,
"What did you want.?" or, "Where is it.?" Do not be
impatient with her. She could not possibly have grasped
all your directions.
A weak or doubtful tone of voice is another fruitful
2U
THE OBEDIENT CHILD
source of disobedience. "The reason why men do not
obey us,'* says Emerson, "is because they see the mud
at the bottom of our eye.'* Children do not obey us be-
cause they see that we have no firm behef that the de-
sired deed will be done.
HOW TO GAIN OBEDIENCE
Expect your children to do as you desire. Believe that
they will do so. Show this in your eyes and in the tones
of your voice. A teacher in a school or a mother in a
home who hesitates or speaks with a doubtful or plead-
ing tone, is lost. No control is possible if one doubts
herself. Speak in a low voice and firmly. One is not heard
anywhere for much speaking nor for loud speaking.
And most of all gain the confidence of your children,
so that what you desire wall be their desire also. \Miat
you ask will always seem good and right. "Perfect trust
casts out fear." It casts out disobedience also.
XXV
THE HONEST CHLLD
"See-saw, Marjory Daw!
Johnnie shall have a new master!
He shall have but a penny a day.
Because he can't work any faster!"
Mother Goose
MOTHER GOOSE is a wise old mother. She puts
her lessons in the form of nonsense rhymes. She
does not preach nor teach; but she gives us many whole-
some truths. Johnnie must seek a new master. He can-
not earn what the old master pays, because he cannot
work any faster. He is worth only a penny a day. I sup-
pose this rhyme was made to fit the case of a slow child
who dawdled at his tasks. It also fits the case of the
child who expects to be paid for errands and little jobs,
regardless of the value of the service. Honesty is shown
in work as well as in money matters. Perhaps children
gain the best idea of honesty through honest, exact
work. An honest man is an exact man. He is true to his
contracts. He renders due value in his work. You are
helping your child to be honest and true when you insist
on good, thorough work and well-finished work.
A seam sewn up with a loose edge, here and there, is a
dishonest seam.
A box made with a cover which does not fit is a dis-
honest box.
A boy who scants his task and runs off to play before
216
THE HONEST CHILD
the job is finished is doing dishonest work. One reason
for the manual training of our schools is the practice it
gives in doing exact and careful work. Any imperfection
is seen at once. A stool with four uneven legs refuses to
stand. The error in making is evident at once.
A sleeve which does not fit is a poor sleeve. No con-
cealment is possible. Words may sometimes gloss over
bad deeds; but poor hand-work cannot be explained
away. The work is good or it is bad.
The use of tools is a good means of teaching boys to
be careful and exact and honest.
In England there is a school for boys who have been
taken up in court for stealing and various other offenses.
At this school boys are put to work at once. Each day
is so filled that there is no time for idleness. Satan gets
no chance at idle hands. The boys do all the farm work
and all the dairy work. They raise grain and vegetables
and make hay to fill the barns. ^Vhen a boy first comes
to this school, he naturally desires to run away. He finds
that the only walls are green hedges, and he decides to
stay until he finds out why boj^s are left free to go as
they please. He discovers that the work and life are so
interesting that no boy wishes to leave.
TINY TOWN
Some years ago the boys undertook the construction of
a miniature village in an old gravel pit on the farm.
A writer in The Outlook gave this account of the little
town:
"The boys set to work with a will to build Tiny
Town.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"And wonderfully well they did their work. This is
no cardboard and paper affair, but a collection of solid
iron and wood buildings, carefully designed, well and
truly put together, weather-resisting, enduring. The
church is the pride of the place. It is an exact model of
a church, built scrupulously to scale, as are all the
houses. The roof lifts off, so that, when a giant comes
along in the shape of a human boy, woman, girl, or man,
he or she may conveniently peer within. Inside are bells,
clocks, seats, and choir-stalls. There will be seen an
organ, a font, an altar, a pulpit, and stained-glass win-
dows. Creepers climb over the white outer walls. In the
churchyard are neat gravel paths, gravestones, and trees
that reach to one's knees.
"The farm is a model farm in every sense, with cattle-
shed, brickyard, and all that a model farm should have.
Then the village boasts a fine recreation ground, with a
band-stand, but the music must be imagined. There is a
squire's mansion, with a fine billiard-room and a bil-
Hard-table. A river flows through the town, w^th locks
for control — real little locks that actually work. As
you stand in the station — or over the station — you
see trains, a tunnel, a signal-box, platforms, cranes, a
ticket office, a water-tank, and a number of ornamental
trees. The temptation is strong to ask for a ticket to
some haunts of Gulliver's, say, Blefuscu. The vicarage
is an exact model of Canon Vine's own residence. On
the hill is a fine mansion. Away in the distance you see
the ruins of Fountains Abbey, in exact miniature."
The building of this town taught many lessons. The
boys learned to construct. They learned how to find and
218
THE HONEST CHILD
to use material ; but best of all tbey learned the need of
good, honest, exact work.
Paper-folding is one of the occupations of the kinder-
garten. Boats, windmills, stars, frames, and countless
other things are made from the little squares of paper.
The best result of the work, however, is not what is
made; but what is gained by the making. A wrong or
crooked crease makes a one-sided boat, or a crooked
frame. TJiere is no way to conceal this bad bit of work.
Is it the best Mary can do.^^
At any rate, the poor lop-sided boat is an object lesson.
It shows the need of a straight fold from the very start.
HOME LESSONS
One path to honesty is by honest work.
Every home may teach this lesson.
How do your children do their daily work.?
Does Jane leave dust under the rugs or a little heap
in the corner?
Are the glasses made to shine when they are wiped .'^
George Herbert says :
"Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws.
Makes that and the action fine."
Are the boys anxious to finish their jobs to the last
stroke? Or do they hurry the work in order to run off to
play? Would they like to hear what Adam Bede says
about good work? —
" *Look there, now! I can't abide to see men throw
away their tools that way the minute the clock begins
to strike, as if they took no pleasure in their work, and
were afraid of doing a stroke too much.'
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Seth looked a little conscious, and began to be slower
in his preparations for going, but Mum Taft broke
silence, and said:
"*Ay, ay, Adam lad, ye talk like a young un. When
y* are six-an'-forty like me, istid o' six-an'-twenty, ye
wonna be so flush o' workin' for nought.'
"* Nonsense,' said Adam, still wrathful; * what's age
got to do with it, I wonder? Ye arena getting stiff yet I
reckon. I hate to see a man's arms drop down as if he
was shot, before the clock 's fairly struck, just as if he 'd
never a bit o' pride and delight in 's work. The very
grinds ton 'uU go on turning a bit after you loose it.'"
JUST PAY
Just pay for good work is a law of the world of trade.
In one of Froebel's plays a child wishes to buy a toy.
"^Vhat costs it?" he asks.
"Three pennies," is the answer.
"Oh that is much too dear,
For only two pennies have I here."
"Three pennies is just enough.
One for the work and two for the stuff.
Three pennies the buyer must pay;
Who cannot pay it, must run away,"
Such a play and dialogue between buyer and seller
will make a more lasting impression than many maxims.
It is well for children to see not only that they are not
cheated; but that they do not cheat any one.
How would it affect our industrial conditions if every
home all over the land should zealously teach and prac-
tice the principle of just pay for good work, and the
220
THE HONEST CHILD
corresponding principle of good work rendered for the
wage received?
Does this kind of teaching begin in your home?
Christina G. Rossetti has put this principle in a child's
form in her rhyme :
PAY A PENNY
"Ferry me across the water.
Do, boatman do."
"If you've a penny in your purse
I'll ferry you."
"I have a penny in my purse.
And my eyes are blue.
So ferry me across the waves.
Do, boatman, do."
"Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue.
And for the penny in your purse,
I'll ferry you."
HONEST ABE
Among the many good qualities of our great President
Abraham Lincoln was honesty. It is well for all growing
boys to know some of the anecdotes of Lincoln. Here
are three incidents taken from "Noble Lives and Noble
Deeds," by E. A. Horton:
"While tending store, Lincoln once sold to a woman
goods to the amount of two dollars, six and a quarter
cents. He discovered later that a mistake had been made,
and that the store owed the customer the six and a
quarter cents. He closed the store, and walked several
miles that night to return the amount.
"At another time a woman bought half a pound of
221
TALKS TO MOTHERS
tea. Lincoln discovered the next morning that a four-
ounce weight was on the scales. He at once weighed out
the remainder, and walked some distance before break-
fast to return it.
"He was once a postmaster in New Salem; but the
office was finally discontinued. Several years after the
agent called at his law office, and presented a claim of
about seventeen dollars in the settlement of the New
Salem aflFairs. Mr. Lincoln took out a little trunk, and
produced the exact sum, wrapped in a hnen rag. It had
Iain there untouched through years of the greatest hard-
ship and self-denial. As he said, *I never use any one's
money but my own.' "
Can you point out to your child some of the ways in
which dishonest work is detected .^^
"A man builds of stone that has a fair outside, but is
full of inward flaws. Sooner or later his structure must
give way. An architect makes a slight error of calcula-
tion. No one would notice it, but a great building falls
and lives are lost. A merchant is deceitful at a trade
— mixes sand with his sugar. A milkman waters his
milk. Sooner or later both are known as sharpers before
the world."
"Square" and "fair" are words which boys often use.
They admire the teacher who is fair, and the man who is
square. "A square deal" is an admirable thing. Can we
help to carry over this natural admiration for what is
fair and square into daily life and practice? A good man
once said that the only tribute he desired on his tomb-
stone was: "Here Hes a white man, who gave every one
a square deal." Is this not a good ideal for any boy.^
THE HONEST CHILD
TEACHING CHILDREN TRUE VALUES
By Emma Gary Wallace
It is not to be expected that children will be especially
discriminating in their tastes, nor that they will under-
stand true and proportionate values. Why should they?
They live so much in the present that it is not to be
expected they will appreciate anything which cannot be
eaten, or worn, or enjoyed right now, nor revel in the
beneficial influences of discipline and the results of self-
denial and thrift.
Many a mother has been disappointed because her
child does not seem to distinguish between the useful
and the useless, the durable and the perishable, the
tawdry and the genuine, and yet it is little to be won-
dered at. Children come into the world without any
experience. The brain is often described as ''virgin soil."
This is expressive but trite. If we will stop to remember
that the brain of the little child is smooth and absolutely
without convolutions, the "virgin soil" illustration will
become more striking. The convolutions gradually ap-
pear as experiences cause mental development. Why
should a child understand values when it has little
experience in selection, usefulness, or durability.'' Is it
not reasonable to take the ground that children should
have a reasonable training in material and ethical values?
When the very little one begins to realize the differ-
ence in weight and texture of cotton, silk, and wool, it
does not require much time or knowledge on the part
of the mother to say:
"Cotton grows in great fields in the warm South.
TALKS TO MOTHERS
A piece of land the size of our garden or the park across
the way will grow a great many baskets of cotton. It is
picked, spun into thread, and made into cloth, and I
was able to get this for ten cents a yard.
"But this piece of silk costs a whole dollar a yard,
and it is narrower, too, because the silkworms work
more slowly and it is expensive to raise and feed them.
Then, all the people who handle the silk have to be paid
— the ones who color it, and the ones who ship it and
bring it to us, and much of it is raised much farther away
than the cotton.
" The wool in your winter coat costs two dollars a
yard, because it is heavy and thick and warm, but after
all, the cotton and the wool will last longer than the
silk, although one is dearer and one is cheaper, because
the fibers are so strong."
This information may be supplemented by talks and
bedtime stories on the good sheep that gave the wool,
and the busy little silkworms, and the pickaninnies who
play in the cotton fields down South. In the course of
time, the child can be brought face to face with the
natural deduction that an imitation product is cheaper
than the real one and not worth as much, and that only
worthwhile things are imitated.
One httle boy had this brought home to him by no-
ticing that one suit case was much lighter than another.
When it was explained to him that the pressed paper one
was cheaper because it was made of cheap material, and
that leather costs more because it takes years to grow
the animals to produce the leather, he saw the point at
once.
224
THE HONEST CHILD
This same little lad was driving through the country
before he was five years old, and looking at the farm-
houses, he said thoughtfully:
"How do these people make their money to live on?"
His father carefully explained about the raising of
the grain, the selling of milk and raising of sheep and
chickens and other things.
"Why," he returned promptly, "they don't have to
go to the grocery store as often as we do, do they, be-
cause they have so much right at home?"
His sense of proportionate values had been steadily
developed.
In the same way, this little boy's parents were excep-
tionally careful to always give each person of whom they
spoke credit for some worthy motive, so that he devel-
oped into a child who steadily emulated the good, and
recognized it wherever he met it.
When a little cousin came to visit him from a near-by
city, he looked at the little fellow's rather showy outfit
with surprised eyes. The long streamers of red ribbon
which hung behind his hat seemed to him to be super-
fluous, and the ruffle about his collar, girHsh. He was
even more astonished when he heard the little fellow
talking of "getting even" with a neighbor child at
home, of "swiping an apple from a push-cart man," and
"getting an occasional ride on the swan boat in the park
free."
That evening when the Httle-boy-who-was-at-home
went to bed, he said to his mother:
"I like my Httle cousin Johnny, but he does n't dress
like a man, does he? Men don't wear showy things hke
225
TALKS TO MOTHERS
that. And, mamma, is it right to take things which do
not belong to us? Even if it is a ride, it costs somebody
money, does n't it?"
"Yes, dear," his mother said gravely. "You are right.
I am afraid Johnny does n*t understand. One always
pays for everything. I would rather my Kttle boy would
pay money for what he has than to pay in loss of his
own seK-respect. You see, Johnny's mother is away at
work all day when they are home, and she has not time
to train him very carefully. We must be particular not
to hurt his or her feelings, but perhaps we can show him
gently that we look at things differently."
If the child is to learn that the genuine is of greater
worth than the imitation, that self-respect is more
important than show, and that the gratification of the
moment may defeat a greater pleasure a little later, our
children must be trained in a knowledge of true and
accurate values, so that they can make wise and dis-
criminating choice in the expenditure of their time,
effort and money.
Two little boys were standing beside a counter of
exceedingly cheap, showy toys prepared to sell for a
dime.
"I'd like this, and this, and this," pointed out the
first child.
The second one picked up the toys indicated and
looked at the way they were made.
"None of them will last very long," he said. "They're
only glued, and the least little bang will knock them
apart. I'd rather take the thirty cents and get some
wood and make a little wagon that would last. After
THE HONEST CHILD
you spend your money for those things, you would n't
have anything in two or three days!"
The on-looker smiled, reflecting that one of the chil-
dren had certainly received definite training in true
values.
It is not infrequent to discover grown-ups whose
houses are filled with an assortment of articles which
are not worthy of respect. Usually such people wear
clothing of cheap material, much trimmed with inferior
ornamentation, and they fail to realize that the neighbor
across the street, whose home is designed for comfort,
and whose furnishings are chosen with a view to beauty
of lines and quality, and whose garments are of good
material but plainly made, is exercising better taste and
saving money at the same time.
In cultivating an idea of true and proportionate val-
ues, care should be taken that the amount of income is
always kept in mind. If the little child has an allowance
of ten cents a week, it will be excellent training to help
him to get the greatest value for this, even if it means
sacrifice. A training in a knowledge of true values pre-
supposes the cultivation of a discriminating taste, the
exercise of the will, and the development of poise and
discernment. Worth-while surely!
XXVI
THE ANGRY CHILD
"Govern the lips
As they were palace doors, the king within;
Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words
Which from that presence win."
Edwin Arnold
A WOMAN of my acquaintance recalls various fits
of gusty anger in her childhood. She thinks she
remembers what caused these outbursts. A rankling
sense of injustice drove her to hasty and passionate re-
monstrance. A jeer or a taunt from her sister brought an
angry retort. An undeserved reproof drove her to furious
words.
A quiet talk by grandmother at another time, when
the waves of anger had subsided, made her see how fool-
ish she had been. Grandmother told her of tigers and
wolves and other fierce creatures who snarl and growl
and scratch and even kill other creatures. Grandmother
had a picture of a wolf in the deep woods crouching over
the skeleton of another wild creature. The wolf did not
seem at all attractive. "Wild creatures know no better,''
said grandmother. "They have no one to tell them what
to do. They have no sense of right. They kill and destroy
because they are wild creatures. Children, and men and
women, know better. They know what is right. They
must learn to do it. When you say cross words, it is like
the tiger's growl. You don't wish to be like a tiger." No,
little girl did not. She decided to try not to be a wild
THE ANGRY CHILD
creature. Grandma did not say, "Let the ape and tiger
die," because she did not know that Tennyson had said
it so well for her. But somehow she had said the right
thing.
Frances Weld Danielson in "The Pilgrim Elementary
Teacher" writes sympathetically of
THE CHILD WITH A TEMPER »
"The Child with a Temper does not need anybody to
diagnose her case, but she sadly needs treatment.
" We all know the symptoms — red face, flashing
eyes, frowns and clenched fists. Furthermore, we all
know the cause — lack of self-control. But the cure we
are not so certain of. The world at large seems to regard
the Person with a Temper as belonging to a special spe-
cies, which must be endured, but can by no possibility
be cured. Outbursts that would not be tolerated in most
people are winked at because, *He has a temper, you
know.' Shall we save the Child with a Temper from such
a fate? For it is not an enviable position to be made al-
lowance for, which means that one is also dreaded and
usually disliked.
"Now, as the antidote for temper is self-control, our
problem is to get self-control in the saddle before tem-
per has the reins in hand. Temper is quick, mounts hast-
ily and dashes off, while self-control usually arrives only
by the time temper is disastrously thrown.
"Child with a Temper, we intend to give you some-
thing quicker than your temper. Your mother began well
^ From The Pilgrim Elementary Teacher. Used by permission of
The Pilgrim Press.
TALKS TO MOTHERS
with you, during your first tantrums. She either shut
you in a room by yourself or put you to bed. She never
whipped you then, or scolded you till the outburst was
over. Then she explained how unhappy it had made
everybody. Then she meted out your punishment. For
every outburst of temper was as certain to be followed
by punishment as day by night. Your mother believed
that the more remote natural punishment — lack of
popularity, slavery to anger — must be anticipated by
other punishments imposed by herself. Sometimes you
went without a favorite dessert. Sometimes you were
denied a pleasure. If your fit of temper had made any
particular person unhappy, you did what you could to
make it up to him.
"Your mother made these tasks rather arduous. It
was not enjoyable to stick together the bits of glass of
the vase you broke in anger. Your fingers got sticky
and the pieces were hard to fit. When you had done
it, the vase would not hold water, and you were obliged
to save up your pennies to buy your aunt a new one. You
did not want to part with your doll's new hat, but you
had torn your playmate's doll's hat, in a fit of temper,
and of course you had to replace it. There was no real
way of making up to your grandmother for spoiling her
visit by a tantrum, but you did give her joy by the scrap-
book it took you many hours to make.
"So gradually you have become imbued with the idea
that temper brings unpleasant results, and you desire
to master it. Your chief reason, frankly, is because these
results affect you unpleasantly, but you are beginning
to have a feeling that people will hate you if you
230
THE ANGRY CHILD
show temper, and there is dawning a wish not to hurt
others.
"Your mother has also helped you to ward off ap-
proaching ill-temper. She speaks your name when she
sees the red flag of danger flying in your cheeks. * Count
ten before you speak,' she cautions, and by ten counts
self-control is in the saddle. * Sing first, quick! ' she cries,
and the song makes you forget your anger. You are
learning to employ some of these devices by yourself.
Self-control is growing quicker. Temper is less rapid.
"Ah! my dear, we who teach you and love you rejoice
in all this. It means the saving of a great many people's
feelings. It means the saving of yourself from slavery
and dislike. We will join in the effort to give self-con-
trol the start over temper, but we shall hope never to
tame you down to such an extent that your temper
will not rise at injustice or unkindness to others!"
One of the great lessons which we all have to learn is
self-control. This lesson must be learned in childhood,
if it is ever gained.
You can do nothing better for your children than to
make them know that "He who ruleth his spirit is
greater than he that taketh a city." How many human
lives are wrecked on the rocks of ungoverned impulse!
Some one has said that there would be fewer mur-
ders if every child in the land were obliged to sit quietly
and meditate for ten minutes a day. What is gained by
a period of quiet daily .'^ What would your child gain if,
after an outburst of passion, you said: "Mary, you are
not yourself now. Sit in this quiet room for five minutes
231
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and think about it. Look out of the window and find
something pleasant to think about."
An adult with a bad temper makes every one uncom-
fortable. Those who work for and with him dread his
outbursts.
"Oh, I am used to it,'* said a clerk of such an em-
ployer. " When it rains, I go and sit under my umbrella."
Every one who could fled from the room when a fit of
rage was coming on.
This man and other men excuse themselves because
they are made with a quick temper. Is this an excuse?
Should any mother allow a boy to grow up without
gaining self-control.^
Tattycoram is one of the characters in Dickens's
"Little Dorrit." She has a terrible temper. She says of
herself: "Go away from me, go away from me! When
my temper comes upon me I am mad. I know I might
keep it off if I only tried hard enough, and sometimes I
do try hard enough, and at other times I don't and
won't. What have I said ! I knew when I said it, it was
all Hes."
Good Mr. Meagles has a prescription for her case:
"Count five and twenty, Tattycoram." This usually
succeeded in warding off the ugly display of temper.
If one stops long enough to count five and twenty,
one's'^anger has had time to cool off.
George Eliot pictures a passionate child in Maggie
Tulhver. Maggie wisely goes to the attic alone to work
off her evil moods on her fetish. The fetish is an old,
headless doll upon which Maggie vents her rage. Poor
Maggie is not helped or guided by her mother.
THE ANGRY CHILD
Passionate cliildren need calm control. They gain
self-control through the strong, steady, quiet control of
parents. In "The Education of Henry Adams," we have
a fine instance of such control: "Henry Adams never
knew a boy of his generation to like a master, and the
task of remaining on friendly terms with one's own fam-
ily, in such relation, was never easy. All the more singu-
lar it seemed afterwards to him that his first serious con-
tact with the President should have been a struggle of
will in which the old man almost necessarily defeated
the boy; but instead of leaving, as usual in such defeats,
a lifelong sting, left rather an impression of as fair
treatment as could be expected of a natural enemy. The
boy met seldom with such restraint. He could not have
been much more than six years old at the time — seven
at the utmost — and his mother had taken him to
Quincy for a long stay with the President during the
summer. What became of the rest of the family he quite
forgot; but he distinctly remembered standing at the
house door one summer morning in a passionate out-
burst of rebellion against going to school. Naturally
his mother was the immediate victim of his rage; that
is what mothers are for and boys also; but in this case
the boy had his mother at an unfair advantage, for she
was a guest and had no means of enforcing obedience.
Henry showed a certain tactical ability by refusing to
start, and he met all efforts at compulsion by success-
ful, though too vehement, protest. He was in a fair
way to win and was holding his own with sufficient
energy at the bottom of a long staircase, which led up
to the door of the President's library, when the door
233
TALKS TO MOTHERS
opened and the old man slowly came down. Putting on
his hat he took the boy's hand without a word, and
walked with him, paralyzed by awe, up the road to the
town. After the first moments of consternation, the boy
reflected that an old gentleman close on eighty would
never trouble himself to walk near a mile on a hot sum-
mer morning over a shadeless road to take a boy to
school, and that it would be strange if a lad, imbued with
a passion for freedom, could not find a corner to dodge
around somewhere before reaching the schoolroom door.
Then and always the boy insisted this reasoning justi-
fied his apparent submission: but the boy saw all his
strategical points turned one after another until he
found himself seated in the school. Not till then did the
President release his hand and depart. He had shown
no temper, no irritation, and had made no display of
personal force. Above all he had held his tongue. During
the long walk he had said nothing; he had uttered no
syllable of revolting cant about the wickedness of re-
sistance to law and the duty of obedience."
XXVII
THE CARELESS CHILD
"The greatest achievement of the human is the ability to assmne
a responsibility."
Henry Ryan
IN one of his pictures Froebel shows the results of
carelessness. A little girl has opened the door of her
bird cage to put in water. She has often been told not
to leave the door open. She forgets and the bird flies
away. She loses the bird. Another little girl has a slice
of bread and butter in her hand. Her brother holds up
an empty cup before her and turns it upside down to
show that there is no more in it. The girl is so absorbed
in the cup that she forgets the bread in her hand. The
cat steals up behind her and takes the bread. Some
careless child has overturned the salt-cellar on the table.
The salt is wasted. Somebody has knocked off the plas-
ter from the wall, leaving an unsightly spot. Little
brother is so sorry for the loss of his sister's bird that he
climbs a tree to get a bird from the nest. He does not
know that he has no right to take the baby bird from
the mother. He does not know how the mother bird will
mourn. Another boy has left his hat on the ground while
he runs off to get some raspberries. He forgets that the
wind may blow his hat away.
Are these children to be scolded and blamed? Do
you reprove your children for carelessness? How are
they to be taught to be careful? Childhood is the time
235
TALKS TO MOTHERS
for freedom from care. A child should be care-free. He
lacks experience and does not foresee consequences.
But he must learn how to avoid losses and errors that
come from carelessness. How may he learn this? You
can help him by talks, pictures, and stories which show
the results of carelessness. You can also help in the
gaining of the wisdom that comes by experience. You
can require certain duties and acts which demand at-
tention and care.
For instance, the garden gate must be shut or the
cows will come in and trample down the flowers. John
leaves the gate open. You say, "John, why did you
leave the gate open?" "Open! Oh, I forgot," is the
answer. What can be done? John must work in the gar-
den to tie up the plants and repair the damage as far
as he is able. Heedless Harry and Johnny Look-in-the-
Air are familiar figures. Heedless Harry forgets to
say "Thank you," and "K you please." He forgot his
bicycle and left it out of doors all night. A rainstorm
came and the bicycle had to be taken to the repair shop
before it could be used again. Harry had to use his own
pocket money to pay for it and he lost his rides for three
days. Harry forgot his knife and left it in the grass for a
week. When he found it, the blade was too rusty to use.
Johnny Look-in-the-Air was sent on an errand by
his mother. He watched the clouds sailing in the sky.
He watched a bird in a tree; but he did not watch his
step. He did not see that he was approaching a river.
Still looking in the air, Johnny walked over the edge of
the bank. He fell into the water. Some passers-by
fished him out. He ran home to get dry clothes. Maybe
236
THE CARELESS CHILD
he said to himself that next time he would take care and
keep in the straight path.
Do you think it will help your children to point out to
them through such stories what happens when boys and
girls forget?
The story of the three little kittens who lost their
mittens was probably written to fit the case of some
child who had a bad habit of losing things.
"i DID n't think'*
"Wipe your feet on the mat." "Close the door after
you." "Come home at five o'clock." "Start for school
at eight." These are among the many things children
must remember. How can we help them.^* By insisting
that they repair as far as possible the results of their
f orgetfulness and by holding them responsible for keep-
ing track of time. Faults due to inexperience should be
treated with sympathy. Froebel says, "Gray heads do
not grow on green shoulders." Do you see what he
means.? He says fiu-ther: " Another source of boyish
faults is carelessness — in one word, thoughtlessness.
This often means acting from an impulse, in itself harm-
less, even praiseworthy, which captures all the boy's ac-
tivity of senses and body. Then experience has not yet
provided him with a knowledge of consequences in the
particular case; and it never enters his head to consider
what these may be. Thus a boy, by no means a bad one,
powdered the wig of an uncle whom he was very fond of
with plaster-of -Paris; taking the greatest dehght in his
work, without the smallest idea of doing anything
blameworthy. . . . Another boy found some deep round
237
TALKS TO MOTHERS
china basins in a large water- vessel, and observed that
these basins when they fell open-side downwards in
the smooth, still water made a sharp sound. This ex-
periment gave him pleasure, and he tried it repeatedly,
saying to himself that the basin would not get broken
in deep, yielding water. . . . Once, however, he let the
basin fall from so great a height, and so plumb upon the
flat surface, that the air enclosed within the vessel
could not escape, and the basin split into two almost
exactly equal halves; and the young self -instructing
natural philosopher stood astonished and pained by
this unexpected catastrophe. In many other ways the
boy seems incredibly short-sighted in following his life-
impulse. A boy throws stones, perseveringly, at a small
window in a neighboring house, meaning to hit it, yet
never dreaming, still less saying to himself, that if
the stone strikes the window the glass will be broken.
The stone hits, the glass shatters, and the boy stands
rooted to the spot." ^
I once saw a small boy in an agony of tears because
he thought he had killed a bird. He threw a stone at
the bird, to be sure, but he did not mean to hit it. He
thought it would make the bird fly where he could see it.
He did not know that a blow to a young creature may
be fatal. When the bird fell at his feet he was filled with
remorse. A motherly woman, living near, heard the boy's
cries. She took the bird to her house and gave it water.
The bird revived and great was the joy of the boy. He
had learned through a bitter lesson the danger of throw-
ing stones.
1 Student's Froebd.
238
THE CARELESS CHILD
"Look out!" "Take care!" "Look ahead!"
"Look before you leap!"
How often do you use these commands with your
children! You expect them gradually to take care and
to look out and to learn the lessons of experience.
Your children become tender by tending something.
Your children become careful by taking care of some-
thing.
The care of babies and young children is often given
to the older brothers and sisters. This may be too grave
a responsibility. There is a society in New York founded
for the purpose of bringing proper recreation and little
glimpses of joy into the Hves of the "little mothers."
These little girls are often stunted in their growth and
sometimes crippled by carrying babies too heavy for
them. They do not get the right chance to play because
family cares are thrust upon them.
The great-hearted Dickens had special compassion
for children too early burdened with the cares of the
family. In "Little Dorrit " he draws a pathetic picture of
a child grown into a little woman before her time. Little
Dorrit bore the burden of inefficient parents and a way-
ward sister. She is prematurely old because she has to
think and act for the foolish father in a debtor's prison.
"At thirteen she could read and keep accounts — that
is, could put down in words and figures how much the
bare necessaries that they wanted would cost, and how
much less they had to buy them with. She had been, by
snatches of a few weeks at a time, to an evening school
outside, and got her sister and brothers sent to day-
schools by desultory starts, during three or four years.
239
TALKS TO MOTHERS
There was no instruction for any of them at home; but
she knew well — no one better — that a man so broken
as to be the Father of Marshalsea, could be no father to
his own children."
Jenny Wren, the dolls' dressmaker, is another of
Dickens's characters who has charge of a worthless
father. She calls him her "bad child" and upbraids
him when he has been drinking too much. "You see,"
says this strange little creatxu'e, "it is so hard to bring
up a child well, when I work, work, work, all day. When
he was out of employment, I could n't always keep
him near me. He got fractious and nervous, and I was
obliged to let him go into the streets. And he never did
well in the streets, he never did well out of sight. How
often it happens with children! "
Both of these characters are beautiful in their lov-
ing devotion. We are saddened by their story because
they fail to enjoy the happy, care-free childhood which
is the birthright of all children.
" I don't care "
The boy who takes risks in doing reckless deeds is in
the way of danger. He says bravely, "I don't care," and
off he goes. Maybe he skates on thin ice in spite of warn-
ings. He says, "I'm all right I know how to take care
of myself." But he does not. He has not looked beyond
the edge of the pond to see the dark spaces in the center
where there is no ice. He has not learned to take care,
and an accident is the result.
Another boy wishes to sHde down a steep hill. He may
be told it is dangerous. He may hear the warning voice;
240
THE CARELESS CHILD
"Look out for the tree." "Oh, I know how," he answers.
But he does not look out. He does not watch his direc-
tion, or he suddenly becomes afraid and loses control
of his sled. He runs into a tree and is bruised and injured.
Perhaps another time he will take care. Perhaps he needs
many lessons in order to become careful. Every day
in our towns and cities lives are lost and people maimed
for life by automobile accidents due to reckless driving.
Boys and men with insufficient experience try to drive
cars. They do not care for the risk to human life. They
have not gained the sense of responsibility which makes
one look out for others. The mania for speeding is the
cause of countless accidents. This mad desire for speed
comes of a lack of thought, and a disregard for the
rights of any one else. Do you realize that the training
which prevents such disregard of law and such care-
lessness begins in your home and in your neighbors?
Do you ever think that day by day you are giving your
children an opportunity to gain a sense of responsibility
for the welfare of others or you are confirming in them
a habit of "I don't care"? It is a wise plan to set every
child some household task for which he is responsible.
I know of one family in which a task is given each child;
boys as well as girls. These tasks are changed from time
to time so there is an opportunity to learn to do many
things. The boys take turns in caring for the horse. They
take pride in seeing which one will make Dobbin look
best. One boy wheels the baby, for there is always a
baby in that family. The Httle girls clean the silver,
make the beds, and wash the dishes. What are they
learning? They are learning how to do the household
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
tasks; but more than all they are learning to take care
of things.
Every child should have his fair chance to play. He
should also learn to take the little responsibilities
which family life ■ requires of each member. The moth-
er's part in this kind of education is to arrange and pre-
scribe the duties which a child's strength and experience
permit him to perform.
A young woman told me that when she was four
years old she wished to wash the dishes. She was not
tall enough to reach the sink, so a stool was provided.
Washing the cups and spoons became a kind of game.
She enjoyed the feeling of the warm water and making
of pretty foam with the soap. She loved to dry the china
and make it shine and she learned to handle it care-
fully. An adult friend once asked me to carry a valuable
plate across the room for her. She said she did not trust
her hands. She was afraid she would drop it. She was
the victim of weak distrust of herself. She had not
learned to take care. I know a three-year-old boy who
gets endless amusement in cutting paper dolls, paper-
houses, and various other things. He has blunt scissors
which he uses with skill. He has learned to be careful by
using the proper tools.
Let us follow the careful child through an average day
of his life and see how he contrasts with the careless child.
He crawls out of bed, remembering to pull the covers
back if he is well trained, while his careless brother will
leave the bed exactly as he jumps out of it. In dressing
he will hang up his night-clothes, whereas his careless
brother throws his on the floor. At breakfast the care-
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THE CARELESS CHILD
less one knocks over a glass of water and spills milk on his
blouse, while the careful one eats more daintily, not for-
getting to wipe his lips. On the way to school the care-
ful child looks where he is going and picks his way, while
the careless one, rushing headlong, stumbles and falls.
In school they build towers with blocks. The careless
brother places his blocks hit or miss, and his unbalanced
tower falls. The careful child places his blocks with
exactness and precision and has a splendid tall tower.
In the cutting lesson the careless child spoils his work
with heedless cutting, while the other follows the lines
with care.
HOW TO DEAL WITH CARELESSNESS
Carelessness in a child should not be regarded as a
fault, to be scolded out of him, but as a bad tendency
to be overcome as quickly as possible.
Two great antidotes for carelessness are reverence and
appreciation. They are two great fundamental kinder-
garten principles. We teach reverence for the beautiful.
The little child learns that flowers are to look at, and to
smell, but how soon they fade if they are handled ! We
teach him appreciation by being appreciative ourselves.
We exclaim about and admire the picture he has pasted
himself, and we show him how we appreciate the results
of his first painting lesson. Every mother knows how
her child treasures the things he makes.
You know how futile it is after the child has upset his
box of beads to say, "Oh, do be careful!" We must go
deeper than that and instil the principles that underlie
carefulness.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Self-control plays a large rdle in making a careful
child. The careless child is uncontrolled. He does not co-
ordinate properly. Practical aid is given by rhythms,
prompt, precise, coordinated movement. Special sense-
development aids to a certain extent. Responsibility
and self-reliance make a child more careful. Let him
do the thing for himself. Let him pas,<? the plates at the
table and fill the glasses of water. Help him to self-con-
trol in every way you know, seizing every opportunity.
Let him do for himself and for others, so that he may
learn carefulness, and always encourage him. This is the
method that gets results.
nature's lessons
Nature is the great teacher of foresight and care. We
plant a seed in the spring, but we must wait many days
to see the orange nasturtium or the purple pansy.
A bulb is hidden in the ground. No one can see it. Is it
lost? In the spring we find it again in a red tulip, or in a
golden daffodil. The farmer sows his seed in faith that in
due season, he will reap a harvest.
Can you help your children to read these lessons of
watchful waiting, which old Mother Nature teaches?
Maybe the story of the little acorn, which was hidden
deep in the ground to rise again in the oak tree, will help
to give the long look which provides for the future.'
* See vol. I of this series.
XXVIII
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
'*Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?
Who shall stand in his holy place?
He that hath clean hands and a pure heart;
Who hath not hfted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.''
WHEN I was a child an old clergyman came to
spend a few days in my home. He was on a mis-
sionary tour and was collecting money for foreign mis-
sions. One day he was counting the money taken in the
afternoon collection. He had rolls of bills and heaps of
silver spread out on the table. I stood by open-eyed,
amazed to see so much wealth on one small table. The old
man looked at me and said impressively :" It is a great
deal of money; but I would rather lose all this money —
I would rather cut off my right hand — than tell a lie."
Then he solemnly repeated the words of the psalm:
"Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Who shall
stand in his holy place?" His emphasis on the answer,
"He that hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath
not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceit-
fully," made a deep impression on me. It seemed a truly
awful thing to tell a He, and I drew a mind picture of a
long line of white-robed persons climbing the hill of the
Lord. I kept this picture of those who were climbing the
hill of the Lord for a long time. I believe I really wished
to join such a splendid procession.
I fear there are not many visiting ministers left to-
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
day, and those who do visit, do not feel called on to re-
peat psalms or to instruct children. Parents are, how-
ever, as anxious as of old that children should speak the
truth and nothing but the truth. How shall we secure a
truthful child?
There are several important things for parents to re-
member.
MAKE IT EASY FOR A CHILD TO TELL THE TRUTH
Children are often betrayed into denying what has
been done for fear of the consequences. The little boy
was right who said that anybody could be as truthful as
George Washington, if he had that kind of a father. A
little girl breaks a plate and hides the pieces. She does
not tell, because she fears a blow or some punishment
for her carelessness.
A mother who says in a stern or angry tone, "Now, tell
me exactly what you have done!" invites a falsehood.
If, on the contrary, the mother says gently, "Now,
tell mother all about it! Nothing will happen to you.
Mother is your friend," a full confession may follow.
"If I find out who did this, he'll be sorry," says an
angry father who discovers a broken window or a nicked
tool. He is not likely to find out, for no boy will volun-
teer to tell under such a threat.
DO NOT INVITE A DENIAL BY ASKING A CHILD TO
CONVICT HIMSELF
''Who did it?" is not a safe question for a mother nor
for a teacher. "What have you been doing in my ab-
sence?" is a question which puts a premium on deceit
246
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
A teacher was once called out of the room and left the
pupils to take care of themselves. When she returned
she said, "Now, all of you do exactly what you were do-
ing while I was gone." One child, a very honest girl, ran
up and down the aisle, as she had done in the teacher's
absence. All the others who had been equally active sat
up properly in their seats. The honest child was pun-
ished; the others escaped; but they had taken a lesson
in concealment and deceit. No wise mother or teacher
will ask a question which invites children to evasion.
She understands too well the force of suggestion.
DO NOT TREAT A CHILD 's FANCIFUL TALES AS LIES
Some one has said that a child's life is like the map of
the world. Fancy corresponds to the oceans on the map
and facts to the land. Three fourths of a child's life is
lived in the realm of imagination and one fourth in real-
ity. The newcomer to earth knows little of the facts of
life. He has slight information. He is not acquainted with
this great " buzzing, booming confusion." It is difficult
to tell what is real and what is not real. It is no more
difficult to believe that a fairy godmother's wand could
transform a pumpkin into a chariot than to believe that
a tiny seed buried in the ground can become a vine that
will bear several pumpkins. A child walks amid wonders.
Everything is new to him. Everything is to be learned.
Out of what he sees his imagination forms endless new
combinations. It is not strange that sometimes he con-
fuses what he has actually seen with what he has been
thinking about. I heard of a man, who, until he was
grown, had a recollection of the thrilling experience of
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
falling into a pail of hot water when he was three years
old. In later life his sister informed him that it was a
younger brother who had fallen into the pail of water.
The tale had made such a vivid impression on him that
he believed the accident happened to him.
"I met Mrs. Jones on the corner of Bay Street," a
little girl once told her mother, "and she gave me a red
rose."
"How kind of Mrs. Jones," said the mother.
"And on the corner of Orchard Street I met Mrs.
Fish, and she gave me a rose, too."
"Then," said the mother, "you must have two roses.
Show them to me."
"Oh, I just supposened it," was the little girl's quick
response.
Her lively imagination had created an agreeable situa-
tion; which she easily acknowledged as imaginary v/hen
asked a direct question.
Was she not really truthful?
A lie is told with an intent to deceive. When there is
no desire to deceive and nothing to be gained by it, a
child's tale should be received as a fairy story or a pleas-
ant belief and not as a falsehood. If it is desirable to dis-
tinguish between facts and fancy a few wise questions
will bring a sense of reality.
BUY THE TRUTH AND SELL IT NOT
Doctor Holmes, in his "Autocrat of the Breakfast
Table," compares truth to a cube and a lie to a sphere.
A sphere rolls easily; but it does not stay. You cannot
build with it, nor on it. The cube stands. It makes a
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
good foundation. You can depend on it to keep its place.
So a lie or a false excuse may go easily and tide over a
situation; but it builds nothing for the future. The teller
loses the confidence of others. No one depends on him.
No one trusts him. Can you make your child see the
need of laying good foundations of truth and honor for
his life building? Happy is the mother who succeeds in
making her children feel that truth is like a precious
possession — to buy and sell not.
How can she do this.^
By stories and tales she may help children to see the
importance of being trusted. The old fable of the sad
fate of the boy who cried "Wolf!" when no wolf was
there, is a good one to show the folly of deceiving. No
one believed the boy when the wolf really came, because
his word could not be trusted.
There is another famous old story of the magic neck-
lace which began to choke the wearer whenever she
enlarged upon the truth or varied her account of any
happening.
THE TRUTH ABOUT SANTA CLAUS
Many years ago I heard a wise college professor relate a
conversation he had with his little son, when an older
brother told him that there was no Santa Claus. The
little boy was grieved and went to his father with his
trouble.
"Do you believe in Santa Claus.?" asked the father.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Why?"
"Because he is so good and brings such nice things."
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Very well," said the father. "If you have such a
good reason, keep right on believing."
There is an oft-told tale of a little girl who doubted
whether anything her mother told her was true when
she discovered that Santa Claus was a myth. I doubt if
that child ever existed. E she did, she needed the treat-
ment recommended by Mrs. Kate Douglas Wiggin for
a too prosaic child. She says that such a child should be
kept in a closet and fed exclusively on fairy tales until
some sparks of imagination are discovered. I doubt if
the treatment would work.
Can you recall from your own childhood a thrill of
delight at finding just before Christmas a bit of bright
cloth in the fireplace? You knew Santa Claus had
dropped it down the chimney. You treasured it among
your hidden possessions until the gray dawn of Christ-
mas brought you the apron or dress of the same bright
color.
Does your heart grow warm as you remember how
you felt when you looked up the chimney to see if you
could find any clue to the way Santa Claus came down?
The joyful mystery of Santa*s night journeys will always
remain as a reminiscence of the years when you were
still trailing "clouds of glory."
Will you not give your children the same happiness?
Do not let shades of the prison house close too soon
around them.
Do you also remember how one day you awoke to the
knowledge that Santa Claus was only the embodiment
of the spirit of Christmas? Somehow as you grew older
you knew the truth. There was no rude shock of dis-
250
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
CO very; but as you grew in wisdom you placed Santa
Claus naturally in the class of Jack Frost, the Brownies,
and other good spirits who speed around the world on
errands of good-will.
The child of kindergarten age is in the period which
corresponds to the myth-making stage of the race. He
creates his own explanations of things as did early man.
He cannot understand abstract virtues. Goodness, good-
will, kindness, and mercy must be embodied in some deed
or person. Santa Claus is the messenger of peace and
good-will at Christmas time. He is true as fairy tales
are true. Fairy tales are true in the sense that they
teach eternal truths; those truths on which our lives
do rest.
It is forever true that kindness and love unlock doors
to human hearts and set free prisoners bound by chains
of evil habits. Santa Claus comes every year to give us
the true meaning of the Christmas message. He will
never grow old nor out of date. We cannot abolish him
without losing much joy from childhood and much that
is good for life. Children will cease to speak of him and
to believe in him when they grow out of the stage in
which they speak as a child and understand as a child.
A school-teacher of my acquaintance once made a study
of her children to see if there was any connection be-
tween a love of fairy tales and untruthfulness. She found
that the child who enjoyed fairy tales was as exact in
dealings, as truthful as others, and as she said, "the
most abominable liar in the class" was the boy who had
no interest in any stories or in anything outside the
actual facts of his daily life.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
A BROKEN PROMISE
Children should be taught the sacredness of a promise.
Every promise made to a child should be kept no matter
at what sacrifice. A promise of a walk or picnic or visit
must always be conditioned by the weather so that the
mother need not break faith with her child. A child
should be able to say, "I know I can have it, for my
mother promised it to me.'* It is a triumph when he
says, "No, I cannot go there; I promised my mother
not to go." I have seen a five-year-old child deeply im-
pressed with the story of Regulus. The noble Roman
was a captive in Carthage. He was sent to Rome to
advise his countrymen to make peace with their enemy
in Carthage. He promised to return and he kept his word.
He knew he returned to certain death, for he had ad-
vised the Romans to continue the war, as Carthage was
at the end of her resources. The splendor of such a deed
even a young child may appreciate.
TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE
A MOTHER is a living epistle known and read of her chil-
dren. K she would have truthful and truth-loving chil-
dren, she must be true to herself and true in mind and
deed. She cannot defraud the butcher and baker of a
penny now and then, and hope to keep the trust of her
observant children. She cannot alter the ages of the boy
or girl on the street-cars to avoid paying a fare. She
cannot say "Not at home" to callers whom she does
not wish to see. She may say, "I cannot see any one to-
day," or, "I am unable to see Mrs. S." Her child will
know she speaks the truth.
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
** One thing, dear mother, presses itself upon our at-
tention. We may not overlook it. The great educational
force in the life of your child is what you really are.
What you prize and what you condenm : what you care
for and what you dislike. This your child knows, even
when he is so small that you think he pays no attention
to what you are saying. The unconscious influence of
your real self is the most potent force in his life. You are
all in all to him, as he is to you. Think of what these
words mean!"
LISA'S LAMB
The little village of Altkirch is situated among beautiful
green, willow-covered hills, which encircle it completely,
except on one side where one can look across to the
green Rechberg on whose summit stands another village
which, like the mountain, bears the name of Rechberg.
Between the two heights rushes the wild Zillerbach. On
all the green hills around, no human habitation is to be
seen; but near the foot-path is a solitary chapel, which
for many long years has looked down upon the rushing
stream and the little foot-bridge, which has many a time
fallen away and been renewed during these years.
There are many poor people in Altkirch, for there is
little work. Most of the men go as day-laborers to the
farms in the vicinity. A few possess a Httle spot of land
which they cultivate.
At the time of our story one of the poorest households
was that of Joseph of the Willow, who lived in a lonely
old house on the way to the chapel, quite by itself. The
little house was almost entirely covered by the long,
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
overhanging boughs of an old willow-tree, which had
given to the owner the name of Joseph of the Willow.
He had always lived in the little house, which had be-
longed to his father before him.
Now Joseph was an old man and had only an aged
invalid wife and two grandchildren in the old house with
him. The grandfather made baskets, which the two
grandchildren, Stanzeli and Seppli, took to the dairy-
man to sell.
One winter's day, they set out as usual with a pair of
baskets on each arm. They knew well where they had
to go, for every two weeks they were sent on such an
errand to the dairyman. He lived quite a distance from
the little village. The way led over the hill, past the
chapel, up to the forest, where his cottage stood.
The children started out together, and, since Stanzeli
kept conscientiously on the way, Seppli had to do the
same, although he would have preferred to stand still
and look at this or that.
When they came to the chapel, Stanzeli paused for
the first time and said: "Lay the baskets here on the
ground, Seppli; we must go into the chapel and say * Our
Father:''
But Seppli was unwilling to go. ** I do not wish to go
in; it is too warm," he said, and seated himself on the
ground.
"No, Seppli, come, we must do it," said Stanzeli.
"Don't you remember that Father Clemens said that
every time we pray God sends us something, only we
cannot always see it immediately."
At length Seppli suffered himself to be persuaded, and
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
went into the chapel without further objection. When
they came out again a few minutes later they heard the
sound of voices coming from the foot-path which leads
down to the Zillerbach.
Three heads appeared, one after the other, and at last
three children, two boys and a girl, came into full view,
who stared at the other two in astonishment.
The largest of these children, who appeared so unex-
pectedly, was the girl, who might have been eleven year?
old. One of her brothers was a year younger, perhaps,
and the other was much younger and smaller, but very
fat and firmly built.
The little girl moved a few steps nearer Stanzeli and
Seppli, and asked:
" What are your names?"
The children gave their names.
"Where do you live.'^" was the next question.
"In Altkirch, there; you can see the church tower
from here,'* answered Stanzeli, pointing to the red
tower between the hills.
"So you have your church there. We have such a
church, too; but it is closed, and we go into it only on
Sunday. But we have no such chapels with us. There is
another still higher above us; only look, Kurt, up by the
forest."
The little girl pointed with her finger, and her brother
nodded to indicate that he saw the designated object.
"I should like to know why you have so many chapels
here on all the hills."
"So that we can go in and pray when we are passing
by," said Stanzeli quickly.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
" We can do that without them," responded the other
girl, "we can pray everywhere, wherever we are. God
hears everywhere; that I know."
"Yes," said StanzeH gravely; "but though we are not
commanded to go in and pray, we are permitted to do so.
And then God always sends us something, even if we are
not able to see it. Father Clemens has said so,"
"Yes; but I would rather have something we can see,"
interposed the listening Seppli.
"Do you know Father Clemens, too?" asked Lisa, to
whom he was well known.
"He lives in Altkirch, up in the old convent, and he
comes often to see us," exclaimed Stanzeli. "Yes, and he
sometimes brings grandmother a whole loaf of bread,"
added Seppli, who remembered this good act most
vividly.
"I must go now," said StanzeH, as she took up her
baskets. "We have still a long way to go."
"Won't you come some time to Rechberg to see me? "
asked Lisa, who wanted to continue the acquaintance.
"I don't know the way. I have never been on the
other side of the Zillerbach."
"Oh, it is very easy to find. Just cross the foot-bridge
then up and up until you come to the top. That is Rech-
berg. The large house which stands highest of all is ours.
Do come soon. Come early some afternoon, so that we
can play till evening."
So the children separated. Stanzeli and Seppli went
on up the mountain, and Lisa looked about for hei
brothers, who had disappeared.
Kurt had climbed up an old pine tree near the chapel,
^6
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
and was rocking on a bough, which cracked in a most
ominous manner. Lisa watched to see him come down,
considering that event more amusing than dangerous.
Karl was lying on the ground near the pine tree, sound
asleep.
Something came running down the hill, which brought
Kurt from his lofty perch, and woke Karl from his sleep
at once. It was a flock of sheep, young and old, great and
small, all skipping, running, and bleating, while the great
dog barked continually. The shepherd was driving them
towards Altkirch. The three children looked at the flock
as it went by, in silent admiration. As far as they could
see, they watched the young lambs skipping along by the
sober mothers. When they had all passed, Karl said with
a deep sigh, "E only we had a lamb like one of those!"
That was exactly what Kurt and Lisa thought at the
same moment, and for once the three agreed perfectly.
Lisa immediately proposed that they should go home,
and beg and beg for a lamb until they got it. She pic-
tured to her brothers how they could take the lamb
everywhere with them, and play with it in the pasture,
until all three became so excited over the prospect, that
they finally ran down the mountain and over the foot-
bridge. Lisa went first, followed by Kurt, and they
rushed so fast that the bridge swayed under their feet,
and the loose boards moved up and down in such a
manner that Karl, who was behind them, lost his foot-
ing, and almost fell into the rushing Zillerbach. Kurt
turned and helped him up, and they finally reached the
other side in safety.
It was a long way to Rechberg, and the lights had
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
been brought into the sitting-room when the children
came in sight of the house. Their mother had been
anxiously watching for them for more than an hour.
She had seen nothing of them since dinner, and they
should have been at home for four-o'clock coffee. She
had given them permission to spend their afternoon in
the grove near by, of which they had availed themselves
most joyfully.
Now it was dark; and there was no sight or sound of
them. How could they be so late? She conjured up all
possible accidents, and ran from window to window,
more and more anxious.
But now — ah ! there were their voices ! They came
nearer ! She ran out — yes — there they were coming up
the mountain-side. As they saw their mother they ran
faster, each trying to be the first to tell the story. Little
Karl was left behind, but Kurt and Lisa came up breath-
less, eager to begin their tale at once.
At the same time a strong voice came from the oppo-
site direction, "Supper! supper!"
It was the baihff's, who had just returned from his
business and wished to enforce the strict order of his
household. When they were all seated at the supper-
table, the children were permitted to give an account of
their day's adventures.
It seemed that Lisa had grown tired of the grove, and
had proposed to climb up to the old linden, where there
was a fine view of the chapel, and the Zillerbach with its
narrow bridge. Lisa had had a previous experience of the
trembling and swaying of the little bridge, and an irre-
sistible desire had seized her to visit the vicinity again.
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
Her brothers were very willing to join her, and the
walk was begun which proved a much longer one than
they had anticipated. They recounted the events of their
expedition again and again, the meeting with the two
children, seeing the flock of sheep, and crossing the
shaky bridge.
The consequence of this last account was that all
expeditions to the Zillerbach were strictly forbidden for
the future.
In the meantime little Karl had fallen fast asleep in
his chair.
"See, Karl is resting after his day's work," said their
father, "and it is high time for yours to be at an
end."
It was not easy to waken the little sleeper, so the
bailiff took him, chair and all, and carried him into the
chamber, while the other children followed, laughing
and shouting at the funny sight.
From that time, at every meal, morning, noon, and
night, one after the other, the children would say:
"Oh, if only we had a lamb!"
One evening, when the mother and children were sit-
ting around the table, and little Karl, who found the
school-work of the others rather tiresome, had said for
the sixth time, "Oh, if we only had a lamb!" the door
opened suddenly and in sprang a real live lamb. The
little creature was covered with snow-white curly wool
and was prettier than any the children had ever seen.
Such a cry of joy, such a noise arose, that nobody
could hear a word.
The lamb darted from one corner to another in fright,
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
bleating pitifully, while the children rushed after him
with shouts of joy.
At last their father called: "Come, that's enough.
We must take the lamb to his new quarters, and then I
have something to say to you."
The children went out to see where the lamb was put,
full of wonder as to the place. A little addition had
been made to the stable, and nice, clean straw lay on the
floor for the lamb's bed. There was a little manger, too,
in which to put grass and hay for him.
When the pretty creature had been carefully placed
on his straw bed and was quiet, the father closed the
low door and motioned to the children to follow him.
When they had returned to the sitting-room, he said
seriously: "Now, listen to me, and give heed to what I
say. I have taken the lamb away from his mother to give
to you. You must take the mother's place and care for
him, so he will not die of homesickness. You may take
him out with you during your play-time wherever you
wish; but you must never leave him alone, and whoever
takes him out must take care of him and bring him back
to his place. Do you understand, and are you willing to
care for him in this way? If not, I will take him back to
his mother."
All three, Lisa, Kurt, and Karl, begged their father
to leave the lamb with them, and promised faithfully to
obey his commands in every respect, and were so full of
joy at the prospect of having a real live lamb that they
could not easily get to sleep that night. Even little Karl,
usually so sleepy, sat up in bed and called out, again and
again :
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
"Papa shall see that the lamb will not die here. I
will take care of that.'*
The next day the great question was what the lamb's
name would be.
Lisa proposed calling it "Eulalia," for that was the
name of her friend's cat, and it seemed to her an espe-
cially fine name. But the boys did not like it. It was too
long. Kurt proposed "Nero," as the big dog at the mill
was called. But Lisa and Karl were not pleased with
this name.
In despair they went to their mother, who suggested
he should be called "Curlyhead," and Curlyhead he was
from that time forth.
The little creature soon became a great pet for the
children. They took him out for a frolic whenever they
had a few spare moments. Sometimes they went to the
pasture, and Kurt and Karl would search for rich, juicy
clover-leaves to bring him, while Lisa sat on a bank
with the Httle creature's head in her lap.
Whenever a child was sent on an errand to the mill,
or to the baker's, the lamb must go, and he listened so
inteUigently to all the conversation his companion ad-
dressed to him that it was evident he understood every
word. He grew every day more trustful, and thrived so
weU under this excellent care that he grew round as a
ball, and his wool was as white and pretty as if he were
always in his Sunday dress.
The beautiful, sunny autumn was drawing to an end,
and November came. Christmas was coming, and every
child's mind was filled with expectations of that joyful
event. Kurt and Karl disclosed all their cherished dreams
2QI
TALKS TO MOTHERS
to Curlyhead, and assured him he should have his share
of hoHday presents. Curlyhead listened attentively and
seemed to appreciate these confidences.
Lisa had a particular friend, Marie, who lived in the
great farmhouse on the way to the Zillerbach. Lisa was
very anxious to visit this friend, for she could talk over
her prospects for Christmas more fully with her than
with her brothers. She had permission to go on her first
free afternoon, and when the time came she was so impa-
tient to start that she could hardly hold still long enough
for her mother to tie on her warm scarf. Then she ran
bounding off, while her mother watched her until she
was halfway dowTi the hill; then she turned and went
into the house again.
At that moment it came into Lisa's mind that Curly-
head would enliven the long way if her brothers had not
already taken him. She quickly turned around, ran back
to the barn, and took out Curlyhead. Together they ran
down the hard path where the bright autumn leaves were
dancing about in the wind. They soon reached the end
of their journey, where Lisa and her friend were quickly
lost in deep conversation, walking up and down on the
sunny plot of ground in front of the house, while Curly-
head nibbled contentedly at the hedge.
The two friends refreshed themselves occasionally
with pears, and juicy, red apples, which grew in great
abundance on the farm.
Marie's mother had brought out a great basketful,
and Lisa was to carry home what were left. When it was
time for Lisa to go home, Marie accompanied her a Httle
way, and they still had so much to say, that they were
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
in sight of Lisa's home before they knew it. Marie
quickly took leave of her, and Lisa hurried up the path.
It was already dark. Just as she reached the house, the
thought flashed through her mind like lightning, "Where
is Curlyhead?'*
She knew she had taken him with her. She had seen
him nibbling the hedge, and then she had entirely for-
gotten him.
In a most dreadful fright she rushed back down the
mountain again, calling: '*Curlyhead, Curlyhead, where
are you.^^ Oh, come, come!"
But all was still. Curlyhead was nowhere to be seen.
Lisa ran back to the farmhouse. There was a light al-
ready in the window of the sitting-room, and she could
look in from the stone steps by the house. They were all
at the supper-table; father, mother, Marie, and her
brothers and the servants. The old cat lay on a bench by
the stove; but nowhere was there a trace of Curlyhead
to be seen, as Lisa peered into all the corners. Then she
ran around the house into the garden around the hedge,
again into the garden, and along the inside of the hedge,
calling, "Curlyhead, come now, oh, come, come!"
All in vain. There was no sight or sound of the lamb.
Lisa grew more anxious. It grew darker and the wind
howled louder and louder, and almost blew her from the
ground.
She must go home. What should she do? She did not
dare to say she had lost Curlyhead. If she could see her
mother alone, first !
She ran as fast as she could up the mountain. At home
supper was ready, and her father was already there. She
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
burst into the room in such a heated, disordered condi-
tion, that her mother said: "You cannot come to the
table so, child; go and make yourself ready first." And
her father added: "You must not come home so late!
Now go, and come soon in a neater condition, or you
will have nothing to eat."
Lisa obeyed quietly. As far as supper was concerned,
it was all the same to her; she would much rather not
come in at all; but that would not do. With a very sad
face she returned to her place. She had a fearful anxiety
in regard to the remarks and questions sure to follow.
But before any one could say anything to her, a new
occurrence claimed the attention of the whole family.
Hans put his head in at the door and said: "Excuse
me, sir, but Trina says the children are all at home and
the lamb is not yet in the barn."
"What?" cried the bailiff. "What can this mean?
Who has taken him out? "
"Not I!" "Not I! Certainly not I!" "Nor I," cried
out Kurt and Karl so loudly that one could not hear
whether Lisa spoke or not.
"Not so fast," said their mother gently. "It certainly
was not Lisa, she went alone this afternoon to visit
Marie, and has only just come back."
"Then it is one of you boys," cried their father hastily,
looking sharply at the two brothers.
A great cry came as answer, "Not I!" "Not I!" and
both of them looked so honest that the bailiff said at
once: "No! No! It is not you; Hans must have left the
door open an instant, and the lamb took the opportunity
of running out. I must look into it."
264
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
He left the room hastily to make an examination of
the barn.
When the first excitement was over, another idea be-
came uppermost. All at once Karl covered his eyes with
his hands, and sobbed out:
"Now Curlyhead is lost. We shall never see him any
more. Perhaps he is already dead."
And Kurt added, weeping aloud: "Yes, it grows
colder, and he has nothing to eat and will surely freeze
and die in misery."
Lisa began to cry more violently than her brothers.
She said nothing, but one could easily see how much
deeper her grief was than theirs, and Lisa herself knew
why. Long after Kurt and Karl were asleep, dreaming
happy dreams of Curlyhead, Lisa lay tossing uneasily,
and could not sleep. Besides her grief for the lamb left to
wander alone in the cold night, she had to bear the tor-
ture of the thought that she was the cause of this, and
that she had concealed it when she ought to have con-
fessed it. She had not, it is true, called out, "Not I, not
I"; but she had been silent when her mother said, "It
certainly cannot be Lisa," and she rightly felt that by
her silence she had done the same wrong as if she had
told an untruth. She could not rest until she determined
to tell her mother the whole story in the morning. Per-
haps he would be found.
The next morning was bright and sunny, and at
breakfast it was decided that, as soon as school was out,
all three children should go out to look for Curlyhead.
In the afternoon they would do the same. He must be
somewhere, and they would find him. Their mother told
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
them, too, that their father had already, in the early
morning, sent Hans out to search for the little creature
everywhere; so there was every hope that he would
be found. Lisa was most happy at this prospect, and
thought she would not need to say anything now; every-
thing would come right. The whole Rechberg was
searched during the day, and inquires made in every
house; but Curlyhead seemed to have disappeared from
the face of the earth. Nobody had seen him, and no-
where was there any trace of him. The search was con-
tinued for several days; but in vain. Then the bailiff
said it was of no use: either the poor animal was no
longer alive, or it had wandered far away.
A few days after, the first snow fell, and so thick and
large were the flakes that in a short time the whole
garden lay in deep snow, which came halfway up
the hedge. Generally, the children rejoiced greatly in the
first snow; and the more the flakes whirled about, the
more they shouted and exulted.
Now they were quiet, and one looked here, and one
there, at the window, and each one thought in silence
of Curlyhead, wondering if he lay under the cold snow
or was trying to wade through it and could not, and was
calling for help with his well-known voice, and no one
was near to hear. When their father came home at
night, he said: *'It is a bitterly cold night; the snow is
already frozen hard. If the poor animal is not already
dead, it will certainly perish to-night. Would that I
had never brought the poor creature home!" Then
Karl broke out in such bitter weeping, and Kurt and
Lisa joined in such a heartrending manner, that their
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
father left the room, and their mother sought to com-
fort them.
From that time the baiHff never mentioned the lamb
again, and when the children grieved for it, their mother
talked to them about the Christmas celebration. She
told them that the Christ-Child came to make all hearts
glad, and that this festival, which would soon come,
would make them happy again. And when tender-
hearted Karl began, as the cold, dark evenings came on
to say despondingly, "Oh, if only Curlyhead were not
freezing in the cold outside!" then his mother comforted
him, by saying: "See, Karl, the good God takes care of
animals, too. It may be that he has prepared a warm bed
for Curlyhead elsewhere, and it is well with him; and
since we can care no more for him, let us be content and
leave him with the good God." Kurt listened attentively
as their mother comforted Karl, and so it happened that,
gradually, the two brothers became happy again, and
rejoiced more every day in the prospect of the pleasant
Christmas time. But Lisa did not grow cheerful with
them. A heavy burden lay upon her, which crushed her
down and kept her always unhappy. At night she
dreamed of seeing Curlyhead lying out in the snow,
hungry and freezing, looking at her with reproachful
eyes which said, "You have done it." Then she would
wake up weeping, and afterwards, when she tried to be
merry with her brothers, she could not, for she always
kept thinking, if they knew what she had done, how
they would reproach her! She dared not look straight
in the eyes of her parents, for she had concealed
from them what she ought to have revealed, and now
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
she could not bring the words to her lips; she had let
them believe so long that she knew nothing about the
affair.
So Lisa had no more happy minutes, and every da^
she appeared more mournful and full of grief; and when
Kurt and Karl came to her and said, "Do be happy,
Lisa; Christmas is coming, and only think of what may
happen," then the tears came to her eyes, and, half
weeping, she said, "I can never be happy, no, never, not
even at Christmas."
That grieved tender-hearted Karl, and he said com-
fortingly: "Do you know, Lisa, when we can do nothing
more, then we must leave all to God, and then we are
happy again if we have done nothing wrong? Mamma
said so." Lisa then began to cry in earnest, so that it
alarmed Karl, and he ran away, as Kurt had already
done. Lisa's altered demeanor had not escaped her
mother's notice. She often watched the child in silence,
but asked her no questions.
November came to an end. The snow had become
deeper, and every day the cold grew more bitter.
Stanzeli's grandmother in Altkirch moved her thin
coverlet here and there, and could hardly keep warm
under it. The room was cold, too, for their supply of
wood was very scanty, and with the deep snow there
were no sticks to be found.
It had snowed for so long, and the deep snow was so
soft, that the old man had been obliged to take his
baskets to the dairyman himself, for the children would
have been buried. But at last the sky was clear, and the
high fields of snow, far and wide, were frozen so hard
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THE TRUTHFUL CHH^D
that one could go over them as over a firm street; the ice
did not crack mider the heaviest man.
Now the children could be sent out again. Stanzeli
wound a shawl about her, Seppli put on his woolen cap,
and they started out. When they came to the stream,
Stanzeli laid her baskets down, and taking Seppli by
the hand entered the quiet chapel. She was saying her
prayer softly and thoughtfully, when all at once a pe-
culiar cry sounded through the stillness. Stanzeli was
a little frightened, and turned to SeppH, saying softly,
** Don't do so in the chapel; you must be still." Seppli
replied just as softly, but indignantly, **I don't do it;
it is you."
At that moment the cry sounded again, and louder.
Seppli looked carefully at a place in the rear of the
church, and suddenly touching Stanzeli's arm, drew her
so forcibly from her seat towards the altar, that she
could do nothing but follow. Here, at the foot of the
altar, half covered by the altar cloth under which it
crouched, lay a white lamb, trembling and shaking with
the cold, and stretching out its thin legs as if it could
move no more from weariness.
"It is a Iamb; now we have something given to us that
we can see!" cried Seppli in delight.
StanzeU looked in great astonishment at the little
animal. Father Clemens 's words had come into her mind
also, and she believed nothing else than that God had
sent the lamb to them.
"We will take him home with us and give him a
potato," said Seppli, who knew no other cause of misery
than hunger.
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"What are you thinking of, SeppK? We must go to
the dairyman's," said faithful Stanzeli; "but we cannot
leave the Kttle thing here alone." And the child looked
thoughtfully at the poor creature with its troubled
breathing.
"I know, now," she continued, after some reflection.
"You take care of the lamb, here, and I will run up
with the baskets as fast as I can, and come back for
you."
Seppli was pleased with the proposition, and Stanzeli
ran on immediately. She darted over the fields of snow
as nimbly as a deer. Seppli seated himself on the floor
and looked at his present. The lamb was covered with
such beautiful thick wool, that he took great pleasure in
burying his hand in it, and it became at once so beauti-
fully warm that he quickly thrust in the other also. He
drew very near to the little creature, and it was like a
small stove for him; for although it trembled with the
cold itself, yet its woolly covering afforded an excellent
means of warmth to Seppli. In less than half an hour
Stanzeli came back, and now they wished to take their
gift home to their grandparents. But in vain did they
try to place the lamb on its feet; it was so feeble that it
fell down at once with a mournful cry, when they had
raised it a little.
"It must be carried," said Stanzeli; "but it is too
heavy for me, you must help me." And she showed
Seppli how he must take hold so as not to hurt the lamb,
and they carried it away together. Their progress was a
little slow, for it was quite inconvenient for the two to
go far with their load; but they were so delighted that
270
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
they did not give up until they reached their cottage,
and could rush in with their new-found treasure.
" We have a sheep ; a live sheep with very warm wool ! "
cried Seppli, as he entered. And when they were inside
the room, they laid the lamb on the seat near the stove,
by their astonished grandfather. Then Stanzeli told how
everything had happened, and how it had come exactly
as Father Clemens had said : that God sends something
whenever one prays; only it cannot always be seen at
once.
"But to-day we can see it," interposed Seppli joyfully.
Joseph looked at his wife to see what she thought,
and she looked at him, saying, "you must tell them,
Joseph."
After some reflection he said: "Somebody must go up
to Father Clemens, and ask him how we are to under-
stand that. I will go myself." With that he rose from his
seat, put on his old fur cap, and went out.
Father Clemens came back with him.
When he had greeted the invalid, he sat down and
looked carefully at the poor, exhausted lamb. Then he
drew the children to him and said kindly: "This is how
it is: when we pray, God gives us cheerful and cour-
ageous hearts, and that is a beautiful gift on which
many others depend. This lamb is lost; it must belong
to the large flock which passed through late in the
autumn, and the shepherd will certainly inquire for it.
It must have been lost a long time, for it is nearly
starved and almost dead; perhaps we cannot bring it
back to life. First it must have a little warm milk, and
then we can see what more it can take."
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
With the last words the good Father had lifted the
lamb a little and laid his hand tenderly under its
head.
Joseph said faintly: "We will do what we can.
Stanzeli, go and see if there is a drop of milk."
But Father Clemens prevented Stanzeli from going
and said: "I do not mean that; if it is agreeable to
you, I will take the lamb. I have room and can take
care of it."
That was a great relief to the old people, for they did
not wish to leave the lamb to die of hunger, and where
there was anything to feed it they did not know.
So Father Clemens took the tired animal on his arm,
and went with it to the old cloister.
He shook Joseph's hand and went quickly away, for
he had other sick ones to comfort who waited longingly
for him; for in all Altkirch and far beyond. Father
Clemens was the comforter for the poor and sick.
The long-desired Christmas Day had come at last.
Kurt and Karl had been in a fever of expectation all
day, and wandered restlessly from one room to another,
unable to keep still anywhere. They had the feeliug that
they might bring the evening more quickly by constant
motion.
Lisa sat quietly in a corner, and gave no attention to
what her brothers were saying. She had never known
such a Christmas. A heavy burden lay upon her which
stifled every feeling of joy. When she tried to force her-
seK to throw off this weight and to be merry with her
brothers, she found it impossible. She fancied all the
time she heard some one coming who had found Curly-
272
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
head dead, and who would tell her father that it was
she who had forgotten and left him.
Towards evening Kurt and Karl found a moment's
rest, and sat together in a state of listening expectation,
talking in subdued whispers.
** What should you think of a croquet game with col-
ored balls.'^" whispered Karl. *'Do you suppose the
Christ-Child thinks of that?"
"Perhaps," answered Kurt; '*but do you know, I
would much rather have a new sled; for you see Kessler
does not run well, and we have only Geiss besides.
When Lisa feels like playing again, she will want to
coast, and then she will have Geiss and there is not
room for us both on Kessler."
"Yes. But then there are the soldiers. Don't you know
how many thousand times we have wished for a set of
soldiers.^" said Karl. "I would almost rather go without
the sled than the soldiers."
"Perhaps," said Kurt slowly, for a new thought had
already come to him.
"But suppose the Christ-Child should bring a paint-
box, then we could paint those pictures of soldiers, and
make our own."
"Oh! Oh!" ejaculated Karl, quite taken by the
charming prospect.
Just then their mother entered the room, and said:
''Children, the candles are lit on the piano and we will
go and sing. Where is Lisa?"
In the twilight she had not noticed that Lisa was sit-
ting in the corner of the room; neither had her brothers
known she was there. She came out now and went to the
273
TALKS TO MOTHERS
piano with the others. Her mother seated herself and
played for them to sing. Kurt and Karl sang lustily and
Lisa joined in softly.
When they came to the words in the song: *' Jesus is
greater, Jesus is greater, He who rejoices our sad hearts,"
Karl sang them so joyfully and loudly that one could
see he did not have a sad heart. But Lisa had known
what it was to have a sad heart; she swallowed a lump
in her throat, and could not sing any more.
When the song was ended, their mother rose and said,
**Now stay here quietly until I come again."
But Lisa ran after her and said mournfully : " Mamma !
Mamma! May I ask you something?"
The mother drew the child into her sleeping-room and
asked her what she wanted.
"Mamma, can Jesus make all sad hearts happy
again?" asked Lisa anxiously.
*' Yes, child, all," ansvvered the mother; *'all, whatever
burdens them. Only one He cannot make happy, and
that is one which holds a wrong and will not lay it
aside."
Lisa broke out into loud crying. "I will hold it no
longer," she sobbed. *'I will tell it. I took Curlyhead
away with me and forgot him, and lost him, and then I
was silent, and I am the cause of his starving and freez-
ing, and I cannot rejoice any more, not over anything."
Her mother drew Lisa lovingly to her, and said com
f ortingly :
*'Now you have experienced, my child, how a wrong
deed hidden in our hearts can make us terribly unhappy.
You will think of it, and never wish to do it again. But
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THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
now you have confessed it repentantly; and the Holy
Christ can and will come into your heart, and make it
happy again, for to-day He wishes especially to make all
hearts glad. Now dry your tears and go to your brothers.
I will come soon."
Such a weight had been taken from Lisa's heart, and
she felt all at once so light and free, that she could almost
have jumped over all the mountains.
Suddenly the thought came to her — to-day is Christ-
mas ! Anything may happen to-day ! Everything within
her rejoiced. There was only one shadow — Curlyhead!
Where was he now.'^
As she went skipping towards her brothers, Karl said
gladly, ''I knew Lisa would be merry again at Christ-
mas."
While Lisa was talking very fast about what she
expected and hoped for, the house-bell sounded, loud
and long, and Karl, pale with excitement, cried, *'The
Christ-Child!"
At that moment their mother opened the door, and
a flood of light streamed in from the next room. The
children rushed in. There was such a blaze and sparkle
and splendor that at first they could distinguish nothing.
Ah! Yes; in the middle of the room was a great pine-
tree, gleaming with candles from top to bottom, covered
with beautiful angels, brilliant birds, red strawberries
and cherries, and golden apples and pears.
The children ran around the tree in speechless admir-
ation. Suddenly, something came running in which
almost knocked Lisa down. She uttered a shout of joy.
Surely — it was — Curlyhead !
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Round as a ball, and pretty as ever, he came and
rubbed his head good-naturedly against Lisa's dress,
bleating for joy. Kurt and Karl could hardly believe
their eyes. Not hungry, not cold — alive and well ! It
was really Curlyhead. They almost smothered him in
their joy. But Karl had seen something else. He made a
dive towards the table.
"Kurt! Kurt!" he cried, almost beside himself; "the
soldiers! the soldiers!"
But Kurt had already darted to the other side and
called back: "Come here! Here is the new sled, a splen-
did sled!"
As Karl ran towards him he cried again: "Oh, here is
the paint-box! Only see how many brushes."
Lisa still hugged Curlyhead. He was her best present.
Now she could be perfectly happy again. Everything
was right.
Suddenly she saw two great eyes staring in wonder
at the splendid tree. They belonged to Seppli, and there
was Stanzeli standing near him.
Lisa went to the children.
"So you have come at last to see me?" she said.
"Isn't the tree beautiful? Did you know the Christ-
Child would come to-day?"
"Oh, no," said Stanzeli shyly. "Your mother brought
us here. Father Clemens told us to-day that the lamb
belonged to you, and that we might bring it over."
"And you brought Curlyhead? Where from? Where
did you find it? How can he look so fat and well?"
"You will know all that some other time, Lisa," said
ner mother, coming towards the children. "Now you
276
THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
must lead your little friends to their Christmas table by
the window. The Christ-child has remembered them,
too."
Stanzeli and Seppli often go to play with Lisa, and
her brothers, and Curlyhead.
And Lisa, whenever she looks at Curlyhead, thinks:
"How happy I am! I will never again conceal a wrong
deed in my heart."
XXIX
THE GOOD CHILD
"The sun is bright, the sky is blue;
You love me and I love you.
At morn and evening falls the dew;
You love me and I love you.
It rains, it rains and wets us through;
You love me and I love you —
It snowed and hard the tempest blew.
But you love me and I love you.
What care we what the weather be
If I love you and you love me!"
Susan Hale
IN the days of our grandmotliers, children were told
to "be good" and that was considered sufficient to
lead them into the path of right. There were often vague
and misleading ideas of goodness, to be sure, connected
with such maxims as, "A child should be seen and not
heard"; "Silence is golden"; "Keep still and behave
yourself." Keeping still was connected with the idea of
goodness, and goodness was consequently abhorrent.
A little boy, whose father was an author and demanded
complete silence when he was writing, burst into tears
one day when he dropped something and said, "I did n't
want to be naughty; but I had to be." No cruelty
painted by Dickens could surpass the injury inflicted
on a tender soul by such unnatural conditions. "If you
make virtue desirable," says a wise man, "all is gained.
If badness is attractive, all is lost." The real problem is
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THE GOOD CHILD
how to win children to desire the good. Goodness should
be like the pearl of great price, worth anything which
can be given for it. It is born of a real desire of the heart.
No outward compulsion can make children good. You
may compel obedience; you may force a child to say he
is sorry for a wrong deed; but you cannot make him so.
I was once in a kindergarten where there was a young
and inexperienced teacher. A little girl accidentally
broke a slender wooden slat by bending it in her fingers.
"Oh, Katie!" said the teacher. "See what you have
done. Are n't you sorry .^'*
"No," said Katie.
"But what will Miss A say. No one can play with it
any more. Are n't you sorry for that?"
"No," said Katie firmly.
"I shall have to move you away from the table if you
are not sorry. Do you wish to go away.^"
"No," said Katie, bursting into tears.
"Very well," said the young woman going toward her.
"Say you are sorry."
"Yes, I am," said the child in tears; and then reso-
lutely, "No, I ain't."
Katie was honest and could not perjure herself, al-
though she was removed from the group. She had not
meant to do any harm and could not convict herself.
"even a child is known by his doings"
Froebel's "Play of the Knights" deals with the period
in a child's development when he becomes conscious
that "even a child is known by his doings." He becomes
aware of the fact that people are judging him by his
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
actions and that he must meet this judgment. The time
has come when he must say "I ought" and "I must"
to himself. The whole secret of moral growth lies in this
inner decision and desire to be right and to follow the
right. Children are sensitive to the opinion of those
about them. They respond readily to praise or blame.
If we can lead them to desire the approval of those most
to be admired, we are creating right standards. This is
why Froebel chooses the knights to seek the good child.
Their opinion is of worth. They embody all the qualities of
courage, purity, friendliness, helpfulness which we admire.
Froebel 's picture and play show them riding through
the land in their search for the good child. Their horses
prance gayly. Their plumes wave in the air. They are
brave and gay. What a fine thing it must be they are
seeking! What joy they show in finding the good child!
How desirable is goodness ! Mother hkes the good child !
Father likes the good child ! The knights rejoice to find
him. They offer to take him away for a little ride so
excellent is his company.
" Over the world we ride to find
The child that is helpful and good and kind. "
This Httle drama is carried out by the five fingers
moving on the table to represent the knights riding up
to the house and away again with the happy child.
Knights are chosen as the judges of the good child,
because they embody the ideals of goodness created by
the traditions of long generations of men and women
seeking to make life good and true and beautiful. They
are the figures in the little play because they appeal to
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THE GOOD CHILD
what children love and admire — bravery, courage, and
devotion. The dialogue between mother and knights has
dramatic interest. Any mother may invent words to fit
the scene. Any mother may find such a finger play useful
when she wishes to fix in her child's heart the real im-
pulse to good conduct. The knights say:
" Over the world we ride to find
The child that is helpful and good and kind."
And the mother answers proudly:
"This is the child so dear,
Brave knights, you see him here."
The impression of such a play which plants itself in the
imagination lingers long after moral injunctions are
forgotten. The moral injunction is often unheeded, but
the warm glow of joy over the finding of a good child
remains as a fond memory of childhood.
The picture of the good child is completed by the song
the knights sing. They tell what the good child does:
He plays happily. He does not quarrel. He picks up his
toys and keeps them in order. He runs to pick up things
for his mother. He shares his pleasures with her. At the
end of the day he sits on her lap and tells her of his play.
He loves her and she sings to him as she puts him to
bed and leaves him to sweet sleep, while angels guard
the bed.
Robert Louis Stevenson has sketched a similar pic-
ture of a good boy:
"I woke before the morning: I was happy all the day.
I never spoke an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood.
And I am very happy, for I know that I've been g«od."
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
IMPORTANCE OF EXAMPLE
As children grow older the path of goodness lies in the
pursuit of ideals which make the goal of conduct. Says
Wordsworth :
" We live by admiration, faith, and love.
And e'en as these are well and wisely fixed
Do we ascend in the scale of being."
The first ideals of children are found in the home circle.
These are enlarged by the tales of the lives and deeds of
noble men and women. An artist mother has painted on
the walls of a little boy's bedroom scenes from Peter
Pan, so that when he awakens he may look upon some-
thing good and beautiful. Mothers who are not artists
may choose pictures which suggest good thoughts for
the day, to be hung where the child's eyes first rest.
The same artist mother planned once to paint the walls
of a story-telling room for me. She wrote thus about it:
"I was reading aloud to the children to-night about
Perseus, and it seemed to me that after all there could
be nothing better for the story-telling room than the
meeting of Perseus and Pallas Athene, and under it,
illumined, these words from Kingsley 's * Greek Heroes * :
*I am Pallas Athene: and I know the thoughts of all
men's hearts, and discern their manhood or their base-
ness. And from the souls of clay I turn away: and they
are blest, but not by me. They fatten at ease, Hke sheep
in the pasture, and eat what they did not sow, hke oxen
in the stall. They grow and spread, like the gourd along
the ground : but like the gourd, they give no shade to the
traveler: and when they are ripe, death gathers them . . ,
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THE GOOD CHILD
and their name vanishes out of the land. But to the
souls of fire I give more fire, and to those who are man-
ful I give a might more than man's. These are the
heroes, the sons of the Immortals, who are blest, but
not like the souls of clay. For I drive them forth by-
strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the Titans
and the monsters, the enemies of God and men. Through
doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them, and
some of them are slain in the flower of youth, no man
knows when or where: and some of them win noble
names, and a fair and green old age: but what will be
their latter end I know not, and none, save Zeus, the
father of Gods and men. Tell me, now, Perseus, which of
these two sorts of men seem to you more blest.?'
"Then Perseus answered boldly: * Better to die in the
flower of youth, on the chance of winning a noble name,
than to live at ease like the sheep, and die unloved and
unrenowned.'"
Might we not hope that the frequent reading of these
words under the picture of a brave youth would create
the desire to win a noble name even at the cost of toil
and sacrifice? Would it make a soul of fire seem better
than a soul of clay with a life of ease?
THE INSPIRATION OF STORIES AND PLAYS
In a settlement a group of lawless boys were formed
into a hero club. They studied various heroes, and at
the end of the season voted that Father Damien was
the finest of all, because he gave his life to care for lepers
on a lonely and distant island.
A girls' romance club succeeded in supplanting silly
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
talk of dress and beaux by a real interest in Keats's
"Eve of St. Agnes," Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel,"
Andrew Lang's version of "Cupid and Psyche," and
Blackmore's "Lorna Doone."
A librarian, writing of the library story-hour, says:
"Besides guiding his reading, a carefully prepared, well-
told story enriches a child's imagination, stores his mind
with poetic imagery and literary allusions, develops his
powers of concentration, helps in unfolding his ideas of
right and wrong, and develops sympathy, all of which
by-products have powerful influence in character."
Froebel's "Play of the Knights " has for its motive the
awakening of the love of the good in the hearts of little
children. Through the interest in action and the appeal
to the imagination, this love is fostered. The supreme
motive of literature is to awaken and foster the same
love of the good, the true, and the beautiful.
Barrie said of his mother: "^Vhen you looked into my
mother's eyes, you knew why God had sent her into the
world. It was to make you think beautiful thoughts,
and that is the beginning and end of literature."
To inspire beautiful thoughts is the secret of a moth-
er's influence toward goodness.
THE SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD
By Maud Lindsay
Long, long ago there lived, in a kingdom far away, five
knights who were so good and so wise that each one was
known by a name that meant something beautiful.
The first knight was called Sir Brian the Brave. He
had killed the great lion that came out of the forest to
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THE GOOD CHILD
frighten the women and children, had slain a dragon,
and had saved a princess from a burning castle; for he
was afraid of nothing under the sun.
The second knight was Gerald the Glad, who was so
happy himself that he made everybody around him
happy too; for his sweet smile and cheery words were so
comforting that none could be sad or cross or angry
when he was near.
Sir Kenneth the Kind was the third knight, and he
won his name by his tender heart. Even the creatures of
the wood knew and loved him, for he never hurt any-
thing that God had made.
The fourth knight had a face as beautiful as his name,
and he was called Percival the Pure. He thought beauti-
ful thoughts, said beautiful words, and did beautiful
deeds, for he kept his whole life as lovely as a garden
full of flowers without a single weed.
Tristram the True was the last knight, and he was
leader of them all.
The king of the country trusted these five knights;
and one morning in the early spring-time he called them
to him and said :
"My trusty knights, I am growing old, and I long to
see in my kingdom many knights like you to take care
of my people; and so I will send you through all my
kingdom to choose for me a little boy who may live at
my court and learn from you those things which a
knight must know. Only a good child can be chosen. A
good child is worth more than a kingdom. And when
you have found him, bring him, if he will come willingly,
to me, and I shall be happy in my old age."
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Now the knights were well pleased with the words of
the king, and at the first peep of day they were ready for
their journey, and rode down the king's highway with
waving plumes and shining shields.
No sooner had they started on their journey than the
news spread abroad over the country, and many fathers
and mothers who were anxious for the favor of the king
sent messengers to invite the knights to visit them.
The parents' messages were so full of praises of their
children that the knights scarcely knew where to go.
Some of the parents said that their sons were beautiful;
some said theirs were. smart; but as the knights cared
nothing for a child who was not good, they did not hurry
to see these children.
On the second day, however, as they rode along, they
met a company of men in very fine clothes, who bowed
down before them; and while the knights drew rein in
astonishment, a Httle man stepped in front of the others
to speak to them.
He was a fat little man, with a fat little voice; and he
told the knights that he had come to invite them to the
castle of the Baron Borribald, whose son Florimond was
the most wonderful child in the world.
"Oh! there is nothing he cannot do," cried the fat lit-
tle man whose name was PuflF. "You must hear him talk!
You must see him walk!"
So the knights followed him; and when they had
reached the castle, Florimond ran to meet them. He was
a merry little fellow, with long fair curls and rosy cheeks;
and when he saw the fine horses he clapped his hands
with delight. The baron and baroness, too, were well
286
THE GOOD CHILD
pleased with their visitors, and made a feast in their
honor; but early the next morning, the knights were
startled by a most awful sound which seemed to come
from the hall below.
"Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" It sounded something like the
howling of a dog; but as they listened, it grew louder
and louder, until it sounded like the roaring of a lion.
The knights seized their swords and rushed down to
see what was the matter; and there, in the middle of the
hall, stood Florimond, his cheeks puffed up and his eyes
swollen, and right out of his open mouth came that terri-
ble noise: " Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo ! "
His mamma and papa were begging him to be quiet.
The cook had run up with a pie, and the nurse with
a toy, but Florimond only opened his mouth and
screamed the louder, because the rain was coming down,
when he wanted to play out of doors !
Then the knights saw that they were not wanted, and
they hurried upstairs to prepare for their journey. The
baron and baroness and fat little Puff all begged them
to stay, and Florimond cried again when they left him;
but the knights did not care to stay with a child who
was not good.
The knights began to think that their mission was a
diflScult one; but they rode on, asking at every house,
"Is there a good boy here?" only to be disappointed
many times.
North, south, east, and west, they searched; and at
last, one afternoon, they halted under an oak tree, to
talk, and they decided to part company.
"Let each take his own way," said Tristram the True,
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"and to-morrow we will meet, under this same tree, and
tell what we have seen; for the time draws near when we
must return to the king."
Then they bade each other farewell, and each rode
away, except Sir Tristram, who lingered long under the
oak tree; for he was the leader, and had many things to
think about.
Just as the sun was red in the west, he saw a little
boy coming towards him, with a bundle of sticks on
his back.
" Greeting to you, little boy," said he.
"Greeting to you, fair sir," said the boy, looking up
with eager eyes at the knight on his splendid horse, that
stood so still when the knight bade it.
"What is your name?" asked the knight.
"My name is little Gauvain," replied the child.
"And can you prove a trusty guide, little Gauvain,
and lead me to a pleasant place where I may rest to-
night?" asked the knight.
"Ay, that I can," Gauvain answered gladly, his whole
face lighting up with pleasure; but he added quickly,
" I can, if you will wait until I carry my sticks to Granny
Slowsteps, and bring her water from the spring; for I
promised to be there before the setting of the sun."
Now little Gauvain wanted to help the good knight so
much that he was sorry to say this; but Sir Tristram
told him to run, and promised to wait patiently until his
return; and before many moments Gauvain was back,
bounding like a fawn through the wood, to lead the way
to his own home.
When they came there the little dog ran out to meet
288
THE GOOD CHILD
them, and the cat rubbed up against Gauvain, and the
mother called from the kitchen:
"Is that my sunbeam coming home to roost?" which
made Gauvain and the knight both laugh.
Then the mother came out in haste to welcome the
stranger; and she treated him with honor, giving him
the best place at the table and the hottest cakes.
She and little Gauvain lived all alone, for the father
had gone to the wars when Gauvain was a baby, and
had died fighting for the king.
She had cows, horses, and pigs, hens, chickens, and a
dog and a cat, and one treasure greater than a kingdom,
for she had a good child in her house.
Sir Tristram found this out very soon, for little Gau-
vain ran when he was called, remembered the cat and
dog when he had eaten his own supper, and went to bed
when he was told, without fretting, although the knight
was telling of lions and bears and battles, and every-
thing that little boys like to hear about.
Sir Tristram was so glad of this that he could scarcely
wait for the time to come when he should meet his com-
rades under the oak tree.
"I have found a child whom you must see," he said,
as soon as they came together.
"And so have I," cried Gerald the Glad.
"And I," exclaimed Kenneth the Kind.
"And I," said Brian the Brave.
"And I," said Percival the Pure; and they looked at
each other in astonishment.
"I do not know the child's name," continued Gerald
the Glad; "but as I was riding in the forest I heard some
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
one singing the merriest song ! And when I looked through
the trees I saw a little boy bending under a hea\'y bur-
den. I hastened to help him, but when I reached the
spot he was gone. I should like to hear him sing again.*'
"I rode by the highway," said Sir Brian the Brave,
"and I came suddenly upon a crowd of great, rough fel-
lows who were trying to torment a small black dog; and
just as I saw them, a little boy ran up, as brave as a
knight, and took the dog in his arms, and covered it
with his coat. The rest ran away when I rode up; but the
child stayed, and told me his name — Gauvain."
"Why!*' exclaimed Kenneth the Kind, "he is the boy
who brings wood and water for Granny Slows teps. I
tarried all night at her cottage, and she told me of his
kindness."
"I saw a lad at the spring near by," said Percival the
Pure.. "He hurried to fill his bucket, and some rude
clown muddied the water as the child reached down; but
he spoke no angry words, and waited patiently till the
water was clear again. I should like to find his home and
see him there."
Now Sir Tristram had waited to hear them all; but
when Sir Percival had finished, he arose and cried :
"Come, and I will carry you to the child!" And when
the knights followed him, he led them to the home where
little Gauvain was working with his mother, as happy as
a lark and as gentle as a dove.
It was noonday, and the sun was shining brightly on
the shields of the knights, and their plumes were waving
in the breeze; and when they reached the gate, Sir Tris-
tram blew a loud blast on a silver trumpet.
290
THE GOOD CHILD
Then all the hens began to cackle, and the dog began
to bark, and the horse began to neigh, and the pigs be-
gan to grunt; for they knew that it was a great day. And
little Gauvain and his mother ran out to see what the
matter was.
When the knights saw Gauvain they looked at each
other, and every one cried out: "He is the child!" And
Tristram the True said to the mother:
" Greeting to you ! The king, our wise ruler, has sent
us here to see your good child ; for a good child is more
precious than a kingdom. And the king offers him his
love and favor if you will let him ride with us to live at
the king's court and learn to be a knight."
Little Gauvain and his mother were greatly aston-
ished. They could scarcely believe that such a thing had
happened; for it seemed very wonderful and beautiful
that the king should send messengers to little Gauvain.
After the knights had repeated it, though, they under-
stood; and little Gauvain ran to his mother and put his
arms around her; for he knew that if he went with the
knights he must leave her, and the mother knew that if
she let him go she must live without him.
The rooster up on the fence crowed a very loud
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" to let everybody know he be-
longed to Gauvain; and a little chick that had lost its
mother cried, "Peep! peep!" And when the mother
heard this, she answered the knights and said:
"I cannot spare my good child from my home. The
king's love is precious; but I love my child more than
the whole world, and he is dearer to me than a thousand
kingdoms."
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Little Gauvain was so glad when he heard her answer
that he looked again at the knights with a smiling face,
and waved his hand to them as they rode away. All
day and all night they rode, and it was the peep of day
when they came to the king's highway. Then they rode
slowly, for they were sad because of their news; but
the king rejoiced when he heard it, for he said: "Such
a child, with such a mother, will grow into a knight at
home."
The king's words were true; for when the king was
an old, old man, Gauvain rode to his court and was
knighted.
Gauvain had a beautiful name of his own then, for he
was called "Gauvain the Good"; and he was brave,
happy, kind, pure, and true. And he was beloved by all
the people in the world, but most of all by his mother.
XXX
THE BAD CHILD
"Oh, help your child to feel this in his heart:
Evil repels, but goodness without art.
Still, but resistless, like a magnet acts."
IT is true that children are often made bad by our
treatment of them. In his "Autobiography" Froebel
sketches a pathetic picture of a child constantly re-
proved for his restless activity and punished for minor
faults. "I was so often called bad," he writes, "that I
nearly became so."
A wide-awake boy, transplanted from the genial at-
mosphere of a kindergarten to a rigid primary school,
was in constant disgrace. His eflForts to help his mates
were misunderstood and his social spirit rebuked.
"She blames everything on me," he confided to his
mother, "and I might as well do it."
How many an active boy has a bad name attached
to him because he is passed on from grade to grade in
school with that character ! Often all he needs is a legiti-
mate outlet for his activity and some absorbing work.
This incident is given in the "Child- Welfare Maga-
zine" by Henriette E. Delamare:
" * She's b-a-d,' said the mother in an impressive whis-
per as she presented her child to the principal of the
school.
"*Bad!' explained the black-eyed little girl defiantly,
^she says I 'm bad.' And for a time she certainly endeav-^
TALKS TO MOTHERS
ored to live up to her reputation, which was no wonder,
considering the way in which she had been * brought up.'
In point of fact the mother's remark had given me the
key to the whole situation. The child felt that she was
considered a hopeless case, so what was the good of
trying to be anything but b-a-d?
"My first and most urgent advice to parents or teach-
ers of troublesome children is this: Never, no never y
under any provocation whatever, allow a child to feel
that you consider it a naughty or troublesome one. Of
course it may need reproving or punishing at times, but
never reprove until you can do it calmly, and, as soon
as the punishment is over, make the child feel that the
fault and consequent disgrace are a thing of the past,
and that, so far from being discouraged by them, he
must determine on making up by extra good behavior
for the rest of the day.
" What is it that makes the reformatory and peniten-
tiary such a dire misfortune? It is not the actual punish-
ment inflicted for a stated time, but the fact of being
branded with perpetual disgrace in consequence of it.
Many a man or woman who first sinned through sudden
temptation and was arrested and imprisoned has become
a hardened criminal later on because of the impossibility
of finding work, receiving sympathy, or having a chance
to retrieve the past and take an honorable place in the
world once more. This is all wrong, and the same is true
in the training of children."
Constant nagging and scolding are almost certain to
duU a child's desire to be good. Many a boy says to him-
self: "It's no use to try any more. Mother finds fault,
294
THE BAD CHILD
whatever I do. I don't care what I do and I don't care
what she says."
Children are often confused in their moral standards
by the punishments given them. Minor faults are pun-
ished in the same way as a serious fault. An angry
mother gives a hasty blow for everything which dis-
pleases her. She thinks the matter is settled and over.
But things are not settled in this easy way. That blow
may have embittered a child's soul. It does not end till
the Day of Judgment, when that child's character is
tested. We meet our days of judgment in this life, and
mothers often see their own deeds condemned, when it
is too late.
A friend once told me of a family who lived near her
in her childhood. She said the children all grew up bad,
because they had no moral standards. They were whipped
for all faults. It was as bad to tear a dress as to tell a lie.
Both offenses were punished with equal severity.
RIGHT THEORY OF PUNISHMENT
The punishment should fit the deed. As far as possible
it should be the natural consequence of the deed. Herbert
Spencer gives the following illustrations of this kind of
punishment:
"In every family where there are young children
there almost daily occur cases of what mothers and
servants call 'making a litter.' A child has had out its
box of toys, and leaves them scattered about the floor.
Or a handful of flowers, brought in from a morning
walk, is presently seen dispersed over tables and chairs.
Or a little girl, making doll's clothes, disfigures the
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
room with shreds. In most cases the trouble of rectifying
this disorder falls anywhere but in the right place: if in
the nursery, the nurse herself, with many grumblings
about "tiresome little things," etc., undertakes the task;
if below stairs, the task usually devolves either on one
of the elder children or on the housemaid; the trans-
gressor being visited with nothing more than a scolding.
In this very simple case, however, there are many par-
ents wise enough to follow out, more or less consistently,
the normal course — that of making the child himself
collect the toys or shreds. The labor of putting things
in order is the true consequence of having put them in
disorder. Every trader in his office, every wife in her
household, has daily experience of this fact. And if
education be preparation for the business life, then
every child should also, from the beginning, have daily
experience of this fact. If the natural penalty be met
by any refractory behavior (which it may perhaps be
where the general system of moral discipline previously
pursued had been bad), then the proper course is to let
the child feel the ulterior reaction consequent on its dis-
obedience. Having refused or neglected to pick up and
put away the things it has scattered about, and having
thereby entailed the trouble of doing this on some one
else, the child should, on subsequent occasions, be de-
nied the means of giving this trouble. When next it peti-
tions for its toy-box, the reply of its mamma should be:
*The last time you had your toys you left them lying on
the floor, and Jane had to pick them up. Jane is too busy
to pick up every day the things you leave about; and I
cannot do it myseK. So that, as you will not put away
296
THE BAD CHILD
your toys when you have done with them, I cannot let
you have them.' This is obviously a natural conse-
quence, neither increased nor lessened; and must be so
recognized by a child. The penalty comes, too, at the
moment when it is most keenly felt. A new-born desire
is balked at the moment of anticipated gratification;
and the strong impression so produced can scarcely fail
to have an effect on the future conduct; an effect which,
by consistent repetition, will do whatever can be done
in curing the fault. Add to which, that, by this world
of ours, pleasures are rightly to be obtained only by
labor.
"Take another case. Not long since we had frequently
to listen to the reprimands visited on a little girl who
was scarcely ever ready in time for the daily walk. Of
eager disposition, and apt to become thoroughly ab-
sorbed in the occupation of the moment, Constance
never thought of putting on her things until the rest
were ready. The governess and the other children had
almost invariably to wait; and from the mamma there
almost invariably came the same scolding. Utterly as
this system failed it never occurred to the mamma to
let Constance experience the natural penalty. Nor, in-
deed, would she try it when it was suggested to her. In
the world the penalty of being behind time is the loss of
some advantage that would else have been gained: the
train is gone; or the steamboat is just leaving its moor-
ings; or the best things in the market are sold; or all the
good seats in the concert-room are filled. And every one,
in cases perpetually occurring, may see that it is the pro-
spective deprivations entailed by being too late which
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
prevent people from being too late. Is not the inference
obvious? Should not these prospective deprivations con-
trol the child's conduct also? If Constance is not ready
at the appointed time, the natural result is that of being
left behind, and losing her walk. And no one can, we
think, doubt that after having once or twice remained
at home while the rest were enjoying themselves in the
fields, and after having felt that this loss of a much-
prized gratification was solely due to want of prompti-
tude, some amendment would take place. At any rate,
the measure would be more effective than that perpetual
scolding which ends only in producing callousness.
"Again, when children, with more than unusual care-
lessness, break or lose the things given to them, the
natural penalty — the penalty which makes grown-up
persons more careful — is the consequent inconven-
ience. The want of the lost or damaged article, and the
cost of supplying its place, are the experiences by which
men and women are disciplined in these matters; and the
experience of children should be as much as possible as-
similated to theirs. We do not refer to that early period
at which toys are pulled to pieces in the process of learn-
ing their physical properties, and at which the results of
carelessness cannot be understood; but to a later periods
when the meaning and advantages of property are per-
ceived. When a boy, old enough to possess a penknife,
uses it so roughly as to snap the blade, or leaves it in the
grass by some hedge-side where he was cutting a stick, a
thoughtless parent or some indulgent relative will com-
monly forthwith buy him another; not seeing that, by
doing this, a valuable lesson is lost. In such a case a
THE BAD CHILD
father may properly explain that penknives cost money,
and that to get money requires labor; that he cannot
afford to purchase new penknives for one who loses
or breaks them; and that until he sees evidence of
greater carefulness he must decline to make good the
loss.
"These few familiar instances, here chosen because of
the simpHcity with which they illustrate our point, will
make clear to every one the distinction between those
natural penalties which we contend are the truly effi-
cient ones, and those artificial penalties which parents
commonly substitute for them.
"Another great advantage of this natural system of
discipline is, that it is a system of pure justice; and will
be recognized by every child as such. Whoso suffers
nothing more than the evil which obviously follows
naturally from his own misbehavior, is much less likely
to think himself wrongly treated than if he suffers an
evil artificially inflicted on him; and this will be true of
children as of men. Take the case of a boy who is habitu-
ally recldess of his clothes — scrambles through hedges
without caution, or is utterly regardless of mudrif he is
beaten, or sent to bed, he is apt to regard himself as ill-
used; and his mind is more likely to be occupied by
thinking over his injuries than repenting of his trans-
gressions. But suppose he is required to rectify as far as
he can the harm he has done — to clean off the mud
with which he has covered himself, or to mend the tear
as well as he can. Will he not see that the evil is one of
his own producing.? Will he not while paying this pen-
TALKS TO MOTHERS
alty be continuously conscious of the connection be-
tween it and its cause? And will he not, in spite of his
irritation, recognize more or less clearly the justice of
the arrangement? If several lessons of this kind fail to
produce amendment — if suits of clothes are prema-
turely spoiled — if, pursuing this same system of dis-
cipline, a father declines to spend money for new ones
until the ordinary time has elapsed — and if, mean-
while, there occur occasions on which, having no decent
clothes to go in, the boy is debarred from joining the rest
of the family on holiday excursions and fete-days, it is
manifest that, while he will keenly feel the punishment,
he can scarcely fail to perceive that his own careless-
ness is the origin of it; and seeing this, he v/ill not
have that same sense of injustice as when there is no
obvious connection between the transgression and its
penalty."
At FroebeFs first school in Keilhau it was the rule
that every boy should repair as far as possible the re-
sults of his own carelessness. If a window were broken,
the boy must take it to the glazier, who lived three
miles away. One of the "Mother Play" pictures shows
us a boy w^alking under the trees with a window frame
under his arm. He is crying; but that does not mend the
window. He must learn that only with effort and de-
termination do we right what is wrong.
The aim of this school at Keilhau was to give boys
self-control and seK-direction. A slice of dry bread
placed at a boy's plate at supper was a reminder of
some neglect of duty. It was a sufficient hint that the
offender was to eat nothing but the bread.
300
THE BAD CHILD
SUGGESTION OF THE WRONG
I RECALL a Sunday-School lesson I read long ago. The
lesson was written on the text: "That no man put a
stumbhng-block or an occasion to fall in his brother's
way." A picture was made to show a naughty boy who
had stretched a string across the path of his innocent
brother. The innocent brother was approaching vnth. a
basket of eggs. The naughty boy was hidden in the
bushes where he could see and enjoy the disaster. The
text was cited and the warning given that one should
not injure a confiding brother. But one could be sure the
picture would be more vivid than the warning. The trick
might be suggested for the first time to boys studying
this lesson. Many comic pictures in Sunday supple-
ments, and even in books, are bad from the standpoint
of suggestion. The tricks of Buster Brown and Elmer
and others of their kind are not desirable tricks to
learn. Every time children see these pictures they are
gaining suggestions to go and do likewise.
Enjoyment of the misfortunes of others is a bad
trait. Yet this is what is taught by pictures of grandpa
falling over the pail of water on the stairs, or the apple
woman lamenting the loss of her fruit when frolicsome
boys upset her cart.
Do is better than don't. Do suggests the good. DonH
suggests the evil. Basil the Great insisted that no writ-
ings which portrayed evil, such as stories of the revels
and quarrels of the gods, should be allowed. "We
should close our ears to them as Ulysses did against the
seductions of the sirens."
301
TALKS TO MOTHERS
A lesson on a fish was recently given to a company of
teachers in which the use of the fin was spoken of. To
show its value as a propelling power, the effect of cutting
it off was noted. A wise woman immediately entered a
protest, saying that from her experience some child
would be almost sure to try the experiment if it were
suggested to him.
I doubt if a boy was ever deterred from throwing a
stone at a bird or robbing a nest by tales of bad boys
who did such things. Is it not better to so interest a boy
in bird life, in the building of the nests and the many
curious trades of birds, in the tender care of the mother
bird for her young and the wonderful way God has pro-
vided these feathery creatures with the means for their
own protection in the change of feathers at different
seasons, that the life of the happy songster becomes
sacred to him? Let the children repeat:
"I am only a little sparrow,
A bird of low degree;
My life is of little value.
But the dear Lord cares for me";
and then the words of our Lord to show the value of this
life: "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one
of them shall not fall on the ground without your
Father."
The antiquity of the famous fable of the frogs shows
that the feud between the boy and the frog tribe is of
long standing. A good minister in my hearing once un-
dertook to show the dreadfulness of cruelty to frogs by
such a vivid description of the ingenious tortures of a
cruel boy, that one could only feel grateful that his
S02
THE BAD CHILD
audience was cofaposed of city boys who would not pos-
sibly find an opportunity to practice his suggestions un-
til they had been forgotten.
The thought is the first step in any act. Hence to sug-
gest the thought of a wrong deed to a child is to sow the
seed of the action.
The child contrasted with the good child in Froebel's
"Play of the Knights" is a cross child. In this choice
Froebel is wase. An example held up for imitation or for
warning should be of a universal type. Not every child is
disobedient, nor untruthful, nor impertinent; but every
child is cross and fretful at times. The "Play of the Bad
Child" holds up a mirror to show how disagreeable a
cross child is. The knights do not desire his company.
Nobody wants him.
Our grandmothers used to say :
" Cross Patch, lift the latch,
Sit in the corner and spin.
Pleasant Face, dressed in lace.
Let the visitor in."
Cross Patch must sit in the corner by herself, because
she is not good company. Pleasant Face is gowned ap-
propriately and finely and may entertain the visitor be-
cause she is agreeable company.
Froebel's mother says :
" * Ah, brave Knights, it will make you sad
To know that my child is cross and bad;
It grieves me much to say
He cannot ride to-day.' "
The knights reply :
"'Only good children with us may go.*
And away and away they ride so slow.'*
803
TALKS TO MOTHERS
I believe that the vivid impression of such a little
drama as this, which shows the excellence of the good,
may remain as a lasting desire for the good in a child's
memory. To love the good, to hate evil — this is the
very spring of goodness. It is the goal of our home train-
ing.
You must believe in your children and in their real
desire for goodness, if you would have them good.
You must believe that all children are made in the
image of God, not in the image of evil.
How can I help my children to the love of goodness?
Is this your daily question?
"No greater mistake can be made by parents than to
fancy that a boy is naturally inclined to go wrong; and
no mistake is so likely to make a boy go where he is ex-
pected to go. The fact is that anything is natural to a
boy. He can be bent crooked or kept straight like a grow-
ing bough; and the chief reason why goodness does not
appear to him more tempting than sin is that goodness
is seldom made so interesting, picturesque, or heroic as
sin. In the Oriental picture of the shepherd and the sheep
in the Fourth Gospel, the shepherd goes before the sheep
and the sheep hear his voice and follow him. That is the
only way to be a shepherd of boys. They are hard cat-
tle to drive, but easy to lead. There is nothing they like
better than a consistent, single-minded, straight-going
leader, and when they hear his voice they follow him." *
* Religious Education of an American Citizen^ by Dr. Francis G.
Peabody.
XXXI
THE EVENING PRAYER
" Baby well may laugh at harm
While beneath is mother's arm."
Fkoebel
THERE are many fearless babies in the world to
day, each one hving in his own little world of flan-
nel and milk, and the skies over those worlds are the
faces of mothers. Babies throw themselves about quite
recklessly, sure that an arm wall be put in the right
place, just at the right time, to keep them from falling.
Little babies cannot speak to their mothers and they do
not need to, any more than we need to tell our ears to
hear or our eyes to see. Perhaps, when they are very Jit-
tie, babies are fearless because they have so lately been
with God and know about "the everlasting arms" that
are beneath them.
**And the child grew,"
The Bible
The babies grow so fast that their mothers soon begin
to think of the great day on which they will go forth,
ready in body and spirit for service. Clear sight, strong,
obedient muscles, good digestion, are instruments that
will serve the spirit, and the spirit must be of the most
beautiful sort. A mother lovingly hopes all good things,
both spiritual and physical, for her children. She feels
the baby's interest and responds to his efforts to play
305
TALKS TO MOTHERS
with her, for she knows that play will teach the baby to
know that his body is the servant of his spirit. The
months fly, and the spirit? that live in the babies' bodies
are more and more awake.
*' And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit."
The Bible
As the mothers go about their work, they say to them-
selves: "These babies certainly are all truth and good-
ness. If the truth becomes untrue, and the goodness
turns to badness, it will be because their bodies have not
been trained to obey their spirits." Then the mothers
think and plan, and they are not overcome by the task
that is theirs, because the "Master of all good work-
men" is ready to help, and all the mothers have to do is
to ask for that help.
" Be the sweet presence of a good diffused."
George Eliot
Once a little child was with his mother a great deal as
she worked at home-making. He often wished to do as
she did. If she swept, he ran for his little broom. He
shelled peas at her side, and sewed, and ironed, and
made grimy little pies from bits of dough that she gave
him. He often said, "I want to do what you are doing,
mother." "Very well, dear, you may," his mother
would answer, and so they did interesting things to-
gether. After the little boy was in his bed at night, his
mother knelt beside him and held his restless little hands
in her strong, calm hands. She closed her eyes, and her
lips moved. She was saying:
"O God, Thou hast laid upon us women the responsi-
306
THE EVENING PRAYER
bility of teaching the little children the way of health
and duty, and the sweet appeal of their baby faces
makes our solemn duty dear to us. May we join knowl-
edge and wisdom to our love for them. Grant us, we
pray Thee, such breadth of sympathy that we may see
our Master in every child that has need of us, and help
us to discharge in full the love that was poured upon us
in our own sweet childhood days. Give us special tender-
ness for all children who suffer, and may we have a grow-
ing sense of the divine mystery brooding in the soul of
every child. For Jesus' sake. Amen." ^
The child lay there, watching his mother, and he
felt that all was right, and safe, and good, but he did not
know why. One night, as he watched her, he said, "I
want to do what you are doing, mother,*' and his
mother said, "You may." Then she taught him to fold
his hands, and close his eyes, and say:
"Jesus, tender shepherd, hear me;
Bless thy little lamb to-night;
Through the darkness be Thou near me.
Keep me safe till morning light."
After that he "said" his prayer every night. When he
forgot, his mother reminded him of it, and so it became
a habit. When he said his prayer he always felt that
everything was right and safe and good, but he did not
know why.
" Like as a father pitieth his children."
The Bible
The child's father was big and strong and merry. Long
after the child was able to walk his father sometimes
* Walter Rauschenbusch.
307
TALKS TO MOTHERS
carried him, and the child loved to feel the strength of
his father's arms. They looked at pictures together. They
played ball, and often took long walks, hand in hand.
One night when the child was ready for bed, his
mother said, "Now we will speak to the Heavenly
Father." She had often said this before, but to-night the
boy noticed the familiar word for the first time.
"Like father?" he asked.
"Yes," said his mother; "only much, much more
wonderful. The Heavenly Father can do a great many
things that father cannot do."
''What things.?" doubted the boy.
"Well, the Heavenly Father makes the sunshine. He
makes oranges and flowers and canary birds."
"Oh!" said the boy.
When the light was out, the boy lay thinking of the
things he loved so much that his big, strong, able father
could not make. After that he added true prayer, to the
good habit of kneeling at the close of day and "saying,"
"Jesus, tender shepherd, hear me.'*
He told the Heavenly Father of the day's happenings,
and spoke his thought concerning the world about him.
Professor Weigle sums up the beautiful truth of it all in
this way:
"The positive content of his religion comes from
home. It is what father and mother make it. God enters
his life, because he first dwells in theirs. God lets them,
for a little while, stand in his place. His trust, and the
child's alike, rest in them." ^
^ The Pupil and the Teacher, by Luther Weigle, p. 98.
308
THE LITTLE SAMUEL
THE EVENING PRAYER
"Nearer is he than breathing; nearer than hands and feet.**
Tennyson
Sometimes a new baby comes into a nursery already
occupied. The first owner calls the new baby "Sister,"
and makes her very welcome. She goes to sleep at night
before it is time for a big boy to go to bed, and so "Je-
sus, tender shepherd," can no longer be loudly said or
sung. But this condition brings another new and won-
derful understanding. If we cannot say our prayer
aloud, or sing it, we can whisper it, or think it, for the
Heavenly Father can hear us even when we think!
"Truly?" asked the boy.
"Yes, because He is so near." And his mother spoke
so thoughtfully and earnestly that the child never lost
the impression that her words made.
"How near .5^" tempted the questioner.
"Put your hand on your chest, Hke thisy'' instructed
his mother. "Now take a deep breath. Did your hand
feel it? The Heavenly Father is as near as that."
How wonderful! Of course, then. He can hear people
when they think ! After a short pause the boy said con-
fidently, "He is between my leg and my stocking."
"Yes," said his mother with equal confidence. Later,
from the next room she heard a breathy murmur, "Je-
sus, tender shepherd, hear me." God heard it, too, and
the baby sister was not disturbed.
" No one to us need prove him.
Yet who has seen His face.? "
Mart Mapes Dodge
"If God is so near, why do we not see Him?" Froebel
helps us to answer this question, in a most instructive
309
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and final way. He tells us to direct the child's attentioh.
to the wind. The child sees the clothes on the line blown
about by the wind. His kite flies, and the pin-wheel
whirls in his hand. The wind blows his hair about and
ruffles the birds* feathers. "We see what God does; that
is the way we see Him.*'
In the Book of Deuteronomy parents are told to teach
their children as they "walk together by the way."
Surely that would be the time for noticing, among other
things, the blowing of the wind. When spring sets you
free to walk in the country and the parks, or by the sea,
your path leads through nature to God. From the time
when the "flowers appear on the earth'* until the last
brown leaf falls, you are privileged to say many times
each day, "Your Heavenly Father made it for you."
When you are more or less shut in by winter storms,
you are reminded that "He causeth his wind to blow."
The child's food, a gift from God, has to come to him
through the snow and the cold, for his enjoyment, in the
shelter and warmth of home. Perhaps you are putting a
pair of white cotton stockings on a child's feet. Does she
know that these stockings were once white flowers
growing in the sunshine? The Heavenly Father made the
soft cotton flowers grew, so that this little girl might
have stockings. Shall we speak to Him about the stock-
ings, now, while we are putting them on.^^
"Dear Heavenly Father, my new stockings are very
pretty. Thank you for making the cotton flowers grow.
Amen." Sometimes a child needs help with his temper:
"0 Heavenly Father! Help me quick!
Help me quick, I pray.
310
THE EVENmG PRAYER
For I am very angry.
And I know that I may say
Words that I '11 be sorry for,
And the things that I may do
Are the kind of things, O Father,
That never could please You." ^
It is wonderful that prayer may be offered anywhere,
at any time; and prayer is not always formal words, ex-
pressing requests and ideas; it is often "transcendent
wonder." The child who delights in the beauty of the
sea, with his "How big it is! What lots of Httle waves!
What heaps of sand!" is at prayer. And so, in many
ways, and day by day, the child waxes strong in spirit.
" Who is the happy warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be? "
Wordsworth
We learned a great deal about Christian soldiers during
the war. We saw their power, and we know the world's
great need of them. Christian soldiers are "happy war-
riors" as Wordsworth describes the character in his
poem. His mother is the happy warrior's first teacher,
and it is indeed a high caUing. There is a story of a group
of mountain cHmbers, who, led by a guide, approadied
the summit of a snowy Alp. The climb became so diffi-
cult that, dizzy, and in danger of falling, the climbers
slipped back at every step. The guide, when he saw the
danger, cried: "On your knees! On your knees!" Moth-
ers and children, if they would reach the highest place,
must climb together on their knees; they cannot stand
alone.
^ From My Prayers, " Noonday Meditatioa."
311
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Does the road wind upliill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From mom to night, my friend." ^
PRAYERS
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.
Thy love go with me all the night.
And wake me with the morning Hght. Amen."
A boy's prayer
"God, who created me,
Nimble and light of limb
In three elements free.
To run, to ride, to swim;
Not when the sense is dim.
But now, from the heart of joy,
I would remember Him,
Take the thanks of a boy." ^
"For my home and friends, I thank Thee:
For my father, mother dear.
For the hills, the trees, the flowers,
And the sky so bright and clear. Amen."
"Dear Heavenly Father, help us to obey, whether we
wish to or not. Amen."
"Dear Heavenly Father, we are glad that so many
children have fathers and mothers. Amen."
"Father in Heaven, we are thankful for our pets, and
our gardens, and a great many other things. Amen."
^ Rossetti. * Henry Charles Beeching.
XXXII
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
"I am a man, therefore nothing which concerns man is foreign to
me." Menaxder
"A citizen of no mean city.'*
Saint Paul
A CITIZEN is a member of a community. It may-
be a community in a city, a town, or village, or in
a farming region, where neighbors are distant. WTierever
he may live, the citizen has certain obligations and du-
ties. He cannot separate himself from these obligations
if he would. As he is a man, nothing which concerns his
fellow-men is beyond his range of interests.
He may neglect and ignore his duties of citizenship;
then he is a poor citizen. He may widely extend his cir-
cle of helpfulness and concern himself for the affairs of
the next township, or the state or country as well as
those of his own town. Then he is a public-spirited citi-
zen, a good citizen. A good citizen desires the best wel-
fare and prosperity of his community. He works to that
end. This means that he wishes his neighbor to prosper
as well as himself. It means that he desires to maintain
order and law, that every one may be protected in his
right to "life, liberty, and happiness." He works for the
pubHc good. He is a public servant. He belongs to his
city, to his state, and to his country. This kind of citi-
zenship means that he is one hundred per cent Ameri-
can, because America is the land in which he lives. A
313
TALKS TO MOTHERS
man may live in a community; but if he does not care
for good roads, for clean streets, for sanitary conditions,
for law and order, he is not a true citizen.
Theodore Roosevelt is a notable example of a man
who made the duties of citizenship the ruling motive of
his life. He was a good neighbor, a good friend, a good
oflScial, a good American. His neighbors at Oyster Bay
loved him and mourned his loss. The barber and butcher
and baker were his friends. The school-children wept
for him, when he died, because they had lost a friend.
One of the finest tributes paid to him at the time of his
death was by his neighbors. A group of young men at
Oyster Bay guarded the grave for the first day and
night. This is what their heutenant said: "We, of Oyster
Bay, cannot do too much to honor the memory of Colo-
nel Roosevelt. He was a great man, honored all the
world over, and the people of Nassau County, who loved
him so well, particularly honor him.'*
I wish all fathers and mothers throughout the country
would talk over with their boys and girls the tribute to
Colonel Roosevelt, published by the Roosevelt Memo-
rial Association for the Boy Scouts of America.
THE CHILD CITIZEN
The same ideals which the grown citizen follows should
be held up to children.
The little citizen is born a member of the family. He
is part of the home. He has certain duties and obhga-
tions. Children may help to keep the house tidy and the
back yard clean, just as their fathers work for clean
streets in the town. When they go to school, the school
314
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
grounds belong to them. They should see that no waste
papers are thrown down to blow about the grounds,
that no remnants of lunch are scattered on the walk,
that no orange or banana peels are dropped, which may
cause some one to fall.
A cleaning brigade is a good institution for a home or
school. That habit of care should extend beyond the
home and the school. How many parks and wayside
resting-places are made unsightly by the debris left by
picnic parties. In summer camps boys and girls are trained
to leave nothing behind when they take their tramps.
All boxes and fragments of food must be carried back to
the camp or buried safely from sight. If every home gave
such training, no signs like "Leave no Rubbish,'* and
"No Trespassing," would be necessary. The good citizen
does not infringe on the rights or property of others.
KEEPING THE LAW
The good citizen upholds the law of his land. The child
citizen must learn to obey the law. "Reds" is the name
given to those adults who defy the law, and advocate
violence and revolution. Have we any little "Reds" in
our homes? I once went to visit a family to inquire for a
boy who had been absent from Sunday School. When I
was leaving, I expressed the polite wish that the boy
might come the next Sunday. The mother assured me,
with equal politeness, that he would be there. But Willie
interrupted, "How do you know whether I'll be there
or not.? I'll go, if I want to, and if I don't, I won't."
What will become of Willie if he does not learn to recog-
nize higher authority?
^15
TALKS TO MOTHERS
The home is the first school of citizenship. Next comes
the school. Experiments in self-government have been
made in some schools. "The School City" gives boys
and girls the opportunity to make and enforce their own
laws. They appoint their own officers. They decide on
the penalties for broken law. The real good from such
experiments comes from the opportunity given to make
boys and girls understand the need of law in every social
group. They see the danger of allowing a law-breaker to
continue in his wrong course. They consider what laws
are needed for the protection of the whole.
The George Junior Republic has been successful in
placing real responsibility for law and order on the boys
themselves. And these are boys whose parents have
failed in control, or who have no parents to guide them.
ORGANIZED PLAY
Through play children are learning the need of con-
formity to law. The wise Athenian philosopher, Plato,
advised that the plays of children be set to music that a
love of harmony and rhythm might enter the deepest
recesses of the soul and abide there. He saw a connection
between keeping the laws of the game and keeping the
laws of the state. He believed that the plays of children
should be organized in order that the institutions of the
state might be safe.
The supervised playground is a necessity. Rioting
and "rough-housing" and destruction of play materiak
take place where there is no adult guidance.
As boys advance, their sports become more highly
organized. Baseball, football, basket-ball, and other
316
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
games require each player to know his part and to abide
by the laws of the game. Each must play his part at the
right time. A refractory member is cast out at once.
Every town needs a playground as a means of training
for citizenship.
Scattered communities should have some common
meeting-place where boys and girls can come to play to-
gether. In this way they learn better how to live to-
gether.
PLAY YOUR PART
Are your children preparing to play their part in the
world .f^ Could they learn what David Starr Jordan says
about it?
"To-day is your day and mine;
The only day we have;
The day in which we play our part.
What our part may signify in the great world we
may not understand.
But we are here to play it, and now is our time.
The part may be a small one. It may be a large one.
The monuments in our towns and cities remind us of
those who have played a noble part and honored the citi-
zenship of the town. In the city of Boston is a monu-
ment to Phillips Brooks. The monument stands near the
church in which he served his generation. The inscrip-
tion says:
Phillips Brooks
Preacher of the Word of God
Lover of Mankind
This monument is erected by his fellow citizens
317
TALKS TO MOTHERS
In Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord a tablet bears
this inscription.
Elizabeth Palmer Peabody 1804-1894
A teacher of three generations of children
and the founder of the Kindergarten in America
Every human cause had her sympathy and many her active aid
"The name of William Rugh, a crippled newsboy of
Gary, Indiana, has come into nation-wide prominence
by reason of an act of simple heroism. A young woman in
that town had suffered extensive burns through the ex-
plosion of gasoHne in a motor-cycle. It was only by the
grafting of a large amount of cuticle upon the girl's
limbs that her life could be saved. Rugh, hearing of this,
offered to have his crippled leg amputated for the pur-
pose. He was told that the process might be fatal, but
said: * What's the odds if it will only save her life? The
leg is no good to me, and I have no friends to worry if I
die. Go ahead and cut it off.' The surgeons went ahead.
The girl's life was saved; and Rugh died, saying, when
he knew that the end was near: 'At least I've been of
some use.' And all this for a girl whom he had never
even seen. It is not surprising that the citizens of Gary
are planning a monument to his memory."
The monuments in any town preserve for the growing
generation the finest traditions of the past. They remind
us of noble deeds and of fine character. They inspire a
deeper love for the place, because of what has been.
When the children of Israel had passed safely over
Jordan into the Promised Land they were commanded
to take up twelve stones and set them up in the place
where they lodged the first night.
818
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
"That this may be a sign among you, that when your
children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, What
mean ye by these stones? Then ye shall answer them.
That the waters of Jordan were cut off before the ark of
the covenant of the Lord; . . . and these stones shall be
for a memorial unto the children of Israel forever."
In most of our villages we have memorial halls, or
tablets or monuments to commemorate the noble sacri-
fice of those who have fought to defend home and native
land. We shall have more of these tributes to the boys in
khaki, who sailed across the sea to make the world a
safe place to live in for generations yet unborn.
All such memorials speak with eloquent voice to our
boys and girls. They say: '* We died that you might Hve.
Be worthy of our great sacrifice. Love your home and
native land. Serve it. Be ready to die for it if need
be."
"From dying hands the torch we throw
Take up our battle with the foe."
Fathers and mothers, interpret and explain these
voices of the past to your children that they may grow
in patriotism!
Ancient Athens was the most beautiful city the world
has ever known. At every turn the Athenian boy saw a
fine temple or a beautiful statue or monument. He grew
up loving beauty and loving his city.
In "Pericles and Aspasia," we find this advice about
the education of a Greek boy :
"Let him take an interest in the business and con-
cerns of men, and let him as he goes along look stead-
fastly at the images of those who have benefited his
319
TALKS TO MOTHERS
country and make himself a solemn compact to stand
hereafter among them."
NO MEAN CITY
Saint Paul boasted that he was a citizen of no mean
city. He was proud of his native city. In America we are
beginning to see the need of fostering this feehng of
pride in one's home town. Patriotism is love of country.
It begins in love of home and one's native place.
"Boosting" one's own city is not a bad thing. The
residents of San Francisco had a campaign of *^ boost-
ing" their city for a year or more before the Panama
Exposition. The fine buildings for the Exposition were
erected and the city itself beautified. Every one was
proud of his city. The children caught the contagion of
this feehng of local pride. A five-year-old boy was trav-
eling on a railway train at that period. He was an alert
little fellow and a stranger noticed him. He asked the
usual questions: "WTiat is your name? Where do you
live?" The little fellow drew himself up proudly, saying:
"I live in San Francisco. It's the biggest and best city in
the United States. I'm a * Booster' for San Francisco."
I once heard ex-President Ehot say that in this coun-
try we do not take enough pains to make our children
see and appreciate our fine scenery and our fine city
buildings. He said we should cultivate the personal feel-
ing toward our national possessions. This is the way to
foster patriotism. Children should be taught to say:
"This is my State House. See how beautiful it is! What
a splendid dome! What fine columns! This is where our
laws are made."
320
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
Parents as well as teachers should take children to see
historic spots and historic buildings. They should foster
love of country by recounting the great events which
have made us a land of the free and the home of the
brave.
The Swiss people are famed for their love of country.
We suppose their especial love is due to the majesty and
splendor of their mountains, to the blue glory of their
lakes, to their wealth of flowers, and the glory of their
sunsets and the after-glow on the snow-clad peaks. The
Swiss child lives amid beauty. He grows up in love of it,
and so he loves his home. He loves the stories of WilHam
Tell, Winkelried, and other heroes on which his mind is
fed.
Have we fine mountains and blue lakes in our vicin-
ity.? Let us say to our children: "Watch and see the
shadows on our mountain! See the clouds above its
head ! See the sunlight upon it as they break away ! Is it
not beautiful.'^"
Say to them: "To-night we shall have a fine sunset.
Look for the golden bars! How many colors can you
see?"
Pierre Loti's "Story of a Child" shows us how a love
of home scenes is woven into the fabric of a child's life.
A great-aunt Bertha often called him to see the sunsets
from her room. He describes the impressions thus :
"As this was our only glimpse of real country the
windows in my Aunt Bertha's room had always a great
attraction for me. Especially had they in the evening at
sunset, for from them I could watch the sun sink mys-
teriously behind the prairies. Oh! those sunsets that I
321
TALKS TO MOTHERS
saw from my Aunt Bertha's windows, what ecstasy-
overcast with melancholy they awakened in me! The
winter sunsets seen through the closed windows were a
pale rose color. Those of summer-time, upon stormy
evenings, after a hot, bright day, I contemplated from
the open window, and as I did so I would breathe in the
sweet odors given out by the jasmine blossoms growing
on the wall: it seems to me that there are no such sun-
sets now as there were then. When the sunsets were
notably splendid and unusual, if I was not in the room.
Aunt Bertha, who never missed one, would call out hast-
ily: * Dearie! Dearie! Come quickly!' From any corner
of that house I heard that call and understood it, and I
went swift as a hurricane and mounted the stairs four
steps at a time."
If you live in the prairies your children may rejoice in
the wide sweep of country and in the fields of moving
grain. Will it add to their pride of ownership to know
that in these fields the food of the country is raised?
Nothing too much can be done in the way of creating
this sense of ownership and its corresponding responsi-
bility.
We should often use the possessive pronoun: Our
home. Our fields. Our villages. Our school. Our country.
Extend this idea as far as we may and the world be-
longs to us. Then we shall have a true League of Na-
tions.
PATRIOTIC SONGS
The small boy was not far wrong when he thought a
holiday was a day to ''holler.'* All right feeling needs ex-
32^
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
pression. The chance to "holler" on the Fourth of July
and to make a noise generally is one way of celebrating.
No doubt it endears the day to the small boy. Is it the
best way to give the idea of what our Independence Day
means? Some one proposed a few years ago in one of our
magazines that at six o'clock every family in the land
should go outside the house and standing by the door
sing together "The Star-Spangled Banner." What a
wave of patriotism would sweep the country if this be-
came a universal custom. Can you think of anything
more thrilling than to know that all your neighbors and
all the dwellers in distant towns and cities were singing
at the same time:
" 'T is the Star-Spangled banner, oh, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!"
The little children could join with the grandfathers in
singing. The flag would be waving from the doorway
and the little children would shout:
" Then give three cheers and cheer again.
And then three loud hurrahs.
For our beloved America and for the Stripes and Stars!"
The children of France love their flag. A French child
might have lost home and father during the "Great
War," but he would not fail to stand at attention and
cry " Vive la France'' as his flag passed by.
Do your children love the flag? Do they know the
meaning of its colors? Does blue mean truth to them?
Does white mean clean hands and a pure heart; and
red, love — the love that gives life itself to serve the
flag?
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
Do your children know "A Creed"?
" Lord, let me not in service lag.
Let me be worthy of our flag;
Let me remember, when I 'm tried.
The sons heroic who have died
In freedom's name, and in my way
Teach me to be as brave as they.
"In all I am, in all I do.
Unto om* flag I would be true;
For God and country let me stand.
Unstained of soul and clean of hand.
Teach me to serve and guard and love
The Starry Flag which flies above."
During the war camp songs were sung all over the
land. Our children sang "Over There," "Keep the
Home Fires Burning," "Tipperary," and many more.
Shall we still keep the home fires burning.? Shall we
keep the flame of patriotism burning on our hearths?
The little citizen in your home is soon to be the big
citizen. Will he serve his country well?
Hermann Hagedorn has written for the Boy Scouts of
America the following tribute to Theodore Roosevelt,
one of America's best citizens. Theodore Roosevelt was
always close to the Boy Scouts and they to him, and
particularly appropriate is the dedication, which fol-
lows:
"He was found faithful over a few things and he was
made ruler over many; he cut his own trail clean and
straight and millions followed him toward the light. He
was frail; he made himself a tower of strength. He was
timid; he made himself a lion of courage. He was a
dreamer; he became one of the great doers of all time.
THE LITTLE CITIZEN
Men put their trust in him; women found a champion in
him; kings stood in awe of him; but children made him
their playmate. He broke a nation*s slumber with his
cry, and it rose up. He touched the eyes of blind men
with a flame and gave them vision. Souls became swords
through him; swords became servants of God. He was
loyal to his country and he exacted loyalty; he loved
many lands, but he loved his own land best. He was ter-
rible in battle, but tender to the weak; joyous and tire-
less, being free from self-pity; clean with a cleanness
that cleansed the air like a gale. His courtesy knew no
wealth, no class; his friendship no creed or color or race.
His courage stood every onslaught of savage beast and
ruthless man, of loneliness, of victory, of defeat. His
mind was eager, his heart was true, his body and spirit,
defiant of obstacles, ready to meet what might come. He
fought injustice and tyranny; bore sorrow gallantly;
loved all nature, bleak spaces and hardy companions,
hazardous adventure and the zest of battle. Wherever
he went he carried his own pack; and in the uttermost
parts of the earth he kept his conscience for his guide." *
* See Appendix for " The City Beautiful " by Dr. Woods
Hutchinson.
xxxin
BROTHERS AND SISTERS
" All are needed by each one;
Naught is fair or good alone."
Emerson
AN only child is a lonely child. No matter how fond
and loving parents, grandmothers, and uncles
and aunts may be, none of them can make up for the
companionship of brothers and sisters.
In another chapter we have spoken of the way in
which a child is making his personality. Every child is
taking copy for what he does and his ways of doing from
those around^ him. He is making himself by all that he
does. Adults furnish him many life patterns; but chil-
dren of his own age furnish more.
"I must have some one to play with" is the frequent
cry of a lonely child. It is a natural need.
Arrest of development is the result if a child has
few plays and no playmates.
"Won't you come in and play with me?" said a poor,
unhappy little girl, as she looked over a fence at the
motherly face of a young woman passing by. "I have n't
any one to play with me, and my mother won't let me
go out of the yard."
"Why don't you play with the children next door?"
asked the passerby.
"Ah, mother won't let me play with them. She says
that they will spoil my manners."
326
BROTHERS AND SISTERS
Is not that a short-sighted mother? ^Yhai can she
give her child to make up the loss of companions? She is
fostering, in the isolated child, selfishness and snob-
bery. The child will lack understanding and sympathy.
A dwarfed, narrow personality results from such a
cramped environment.
As a matter of fact children who are well trained do
not acquire bad manners nor bad language from their
playmates. The few striking ways or words picked up
now and then, because they are new and striking, will
soon be dropped, as the better usage of the child's own
home is stamped on him.
But it were better even to risk a lapse of manners
than to doom a little one to starved affections and a
cramped nature. Grown-ups need contact with the
world and with many kinds of people in order to live a
rich, broad life. For the same reason children need play-
mates of their own age.
The public school and the playground offer a boy or
girl society of the right kind. If we could supply our
children with private teachers and tutors, it would not
be well for them ordinarily. Froebel was once asked to
take as a private pupil the son of a duke. He declined.
He said: "No boy can be well trained mentally, who is
not sound morally. There cannot be sound moral devel-
opment without contact with one's equals." The father
was wise, and gave the boy into FroebeFs charge to
place in a school with other boys. The wisdom of Froe-
bel's course was soon demonstrated. The boy came
home one day, roaring with rage, because another boy
had beaten him. The father was angry and said he
327
TALKS TO MOTHERS
would go at once to settle with the offender. "No," said
his son, "you must not punish him. I hit him first. He
was right to hit me."
I know a woman vv ho is awkward and ill at ease in
any social group because her childhood was too se-
cluded. She did not learn how to talk and play with
others at the right time.
We speak of a genial, social person as "a good mixer.'*
Such a person is a welcome member of any group. A girl
who can mix well is popular in her school and makes
friends. A boy who has acquired this happy art is "a
good fellow." The large families in the old New England
homes gave part of the training which has made New
England famous as the place which counts men and
women as its finest product.
If your home circle is small, it will pay you well to
send often for your neighbor's child to spend the day.
Your child learns how to give up, how to yield, how to
play after such play days !
THE MEMBER — WHOLE
Froebel uses a quaint phrase, " a member — whole,"
to express his theory of social relationship. He desired
every child to be developed in an all-round way. He
wished for each child a sound mind and a sound body.
Each child should have a whole life. All needs should be
supphed as far as the education of the home and school
can meet them.
But each individual is at the same time a member of a
larger whole. He becomes complete in himself only as he
fits into his place in the larger whole.
328
BROTHERS AND SISTERS
BROTHERS AND SISTERS
Saint Paul taught this great truth when he said: "We
are all members one of another. No man liveth unto
himself and no man dieth unto himself."
How does this thought affect your training of your
child? Will you extend the circle of your sympathy be-
yond your home through the neighborhood? Will you
reach beyond the neighborhood to those who are far
away? Sympathy grows out of knowledge. Should your
child know more of far-away lands and the children who
live in them? Many schools now are interchanging let-
ters with schools in other parts of America. In some
places school boys and girls are asked to begin a corre-
spondence with a child in France. Through such letters
French life is made real and near. The child gains a new
friend through the letters and a wider range of interests.
A recent number of the Boston Herald gives this il-
lustration of the good done by letters :
"Little Tommy Fitzgerald in ward E at the Boston
City Hospital is now a firm behever in the efficacy of
prayer. For many months Tommy has been praying
that when the supervisor came round in the morning
with the mail for the ward there might be a letter for
him. Yesterday morning Tommy received forty-three
letters.
"The whole ward is sharing Tommy's pleasure. He
has been a great pet since he was brought to the hospital
weeks ago with a fractured leg. The only blue time in
Tommy's day has been when the supervisor went
through the ward with the mail. Although his family
came often to see him, he still longed for the excitement
of a letter.
329
TALKS TO MOTHERS
"Then one day the supervisor wrote to Miss Helen
Marsden, a teacher in the 7th grade of the Jackson
School, Portland, and asked her to tell her pupils about
Tommy's desire for mail. That very day forty-three
boys and girls wrote to him.
"Tommy is especially pleased because the letters are
all long and every one is written on 'real letter-paper.'
He reads *his mail' over and over again and can hardly
find time to eat or have his leg attended to."
A favorite book for supplementary reading in our
schools is Jane Andrew's "Seven Little Sisters." This
book is loved because it makes real the life of our little
sisters all over the world. Miss Colson's " Friends of
Ours " is written with a similar purpose. These are
good books for the home library.
INTERDEPENDENCE
Interdependence is a large word, too large for chil-
dren, but the idea belongs to them. When you point out
to your children how one bit of work depends on an-
other you are illustrating this idea. To show how things
come to us, how they are made, is a step toward this
idea. Froebel says:
"When your child, for instance, tells you he is hungry,
you must often simply send him to the cook for a roll or
to the baker for a bun. You should, however, show him
as often as possible the work that is necessary before
food can be secured.
"You may easily lead your child to feel that for his
bread and milk he owes thanks not only to his mother,
the milkmaid, the cow, the mower, and the baker, but
330
BROTHERS AND SISTERS
also and most of all to the Heavenly Father, who,
through the instrumentalities of dew and rain, sunshine
and darkness, winter and summer, causes the earth to
bring forth grass and herbs to nourish the cattle whose
milk and whose flesh nourish man.'*
MY NEIGHBORS
"Who is my neighbor?" was a question asked long ago
of the Great Teacher.
The answer given then, is the same to-day.
Whoever needs me is my neighbor.
He may live next door. He may live over the seas.
I believe children should get early the right answer to
this old question. They should begin to think about the
wider brotherhood which takes in the whole earth.
They will like to read and maybe to learn Miss
Laing's lines:
"Beneath my feet the floor so long.
Beneath the floor the earth so strong,
Earth holds my house, and earth holds me.
It is my wide, wide home, you see.
" Above my head the roof is high.
Above the roof the bending sky.
It covers house, it covers me —
Sky is my wide, wide roof, you see.
"Within this wide house lives my kin.
In many lands, like rooms shut in.
We are one family, don't you see —
In this wide house, they live with me."
This is what Senor Don Ignacio Calderon, Bolivian
Minister to the United States, says of the League of
Nations :
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TALKS TO MOTHERS
"The true brotherhood of man will come only when
we instill in every child's mind, in the heart and soul of
every man and woman, the conviction that love, liberty,
and justice are the highest ideals that make life worth
living and represent the true conception of our mission
on earth. It will then be easy to form a real league and a
brotherhood of men and nations, all united in a league
of hearts in the hope of seeing the dawn of that era of
peace and good-will, of freedom and justice, for which
many millions of brave soldiers have given their lives so
gloriously.'*
xxxrv
THE HOME
" '1 he home is the true basis of the education of humanity.'*
Pestalozzi
A CERTAIN paper once sent this question to all its
subscribers: "WTiat is the most beautiful word in
the language?" Of course there were various answers.
The larger number, however, agreed that it was either
"home" or "mother!" The word "home," and the
special feehng for home seem to be peculiar possessions
of the Anglo-Saxon. The French have a very intimate
way of saying, "With myself" (chezmoi) or " with him-
self " (chez lui). This phrase expresses the idea of the
privacy of the home, the shutting out of the great world
when one enters it. It corresponds to our old English
proverb, "A man's house is his castle." A castle can be
defended. It protects its occupants from all attacks of
foes and from the intrusion of strangers.
THE HOUSE AND THE HOME
The house is not a home. It is only the structure which
shelters the home. It is to the home what the skin is to
the body, says Froebel. The house may be large and
splendid; but the children within it may be as homeless
as those turned upon the city streets to find a place to
live. Home is where love is. Home is an atmosphere of
nurture and care for those within its walls. Home is a
333
TALKS TO MOTHERS
place where all are members of one family, dependent
on one another.
An empty house is gloomy and depressing, because
this spirit of the family is lacking. Archie, the hero of
E. F. Benson's recent book, "Across the Stream," says
of an empty house :
"I can imagine what a house feels like that has been
happily lived in for years, when the family goes away
and leaves it empty. There is a board up, * To-let Un-
furnished,' and the windows get dirty and the knocker
and door-handle, which were so well polished, get dull.
There used to be curtains in the windows, and in the
evenings passers-by in the street could see chinks of
light from within and perhaps hear sounds of laughter.
But now there are no curtains, and the pictures have
gone from the walls, leaving oblong marks where they
used to hang. And the spirit of the house stares, mourn-
fully out, thinking of the days when there was laughter
and love within its walls. Have n't you seen a house Hke
that?"
FURNISHINGS
The furnishings are a part of the home. They show the
character and taste of the family. They show what the
standards of living are. Where we see books and maga-
zines lying on the table — left there as if they had been
read and would be again — we know it is a reading
family. Prim rows of books in a closed case do not al-
ways show a reading habit. I like to see a book of hero
tales, or "Peter Rabbit," or "Black Sambo" left on the
sofa or on the window-seat. It tells me that some one
334
THE HOME
has been reading to the children. It tells me that those
children will grow up with a love of books.
Pictures are another essential to a real home. These
may be few in numbers; but they should be chosen well.
They are chosen for what they have to tell. Crude and
coarse pictures are worse than nothing. They corrupt
the mind and suggest wrong ideas. The boy's room may
have its posters and banners, and the girl loves to pin
up photographs of her best friends. This desire to be
surrounded with the outv/ard tokens of one's interests
belongs to a certain stage of growth. It will pass, if the
taste is cultivated to admire v/hat is admirable and to
love what is best.
WTien we enter some rooms and some houses, we say
at once, "How livable! " We mean we would like to stay
there. And why.? It is because the furniture is chosen
with the idea of comfort and use and not for show or for
fashion. Cushions and covers are good in color and ar-
ranged for use and comfort. Our livable house is one
where the carpets and rugs are not too good to let the
sun lie on them. Nor are the chairs and sofas likely to
fade when curtains are raised. Sunshine for the family is
more important than unfaded furniture.
THE MOTHER
A MOTHER or a mothering spirit is necessary in every
home. In Mrs. Jellyby, Dickens has given us a type of
woman who has children, but who is no mother. Mrs.
Jellyby found her interest in the inhabitants of Borrio-
boola-Gha; not in her owti home.
The mother is the first teacher, and the first school is
335
TALKS TO MOTHERS
in the home. The first school was started when the sav-
age mother began to teach her children the ways of life.
Pestalozzi, the great Swiss educational reformer, makes
a mother the center of community life and uplift. In
"Leonard and Gertrude," he gives a picture of a home
which is a temple of the Hving God. Gertrude is a power
for good for the whole village. She opens a school in her
home and instructs the village children. The men who
are tempted and in trouble go to her for advice and com-
fort. Her home is a place of refuge. Pestalozzi says:
"Forget, mother, all other work, if necessary, in order to
penetrate into the sacredness of your maternal voca-
tion."
He -vvTote in his diary, when his own son was born,
this prayer: "Thou, O God, who hast made me father of
an immortal soul, send me thy spirit from on high."
Froebel calls the home the sanctuary of humanity. A
sanctuary is a holy place. In olden times in England a
man was safe if he could take sanctuary. If he could
reach a church and even touch the knocker or some
emblem on the door, his enemy could not touch him.
The holy place protected him. Does this suggest to us
what a home should he? Should the enemies of care and
worry and business anxiety be banished from the fire-
side? Pestalozzi calls the home "the school of morals
and of the state," and Froebel says:
"Family Hfe! Family life! Who shall fathom thy
depths? Who shall declare the meaning? Thou art the
sanctuary of humanity; thou art the temple wherein the
flame of divinity is kept alive and burning. Thou art
more than school and church ! Thou art greater than all
336
THE HOME
institutions which necessity has called into being for the
protection of life and property! . . . And once more, O
family ! thou art the security of all institutions, offensive
and defensive, whose object is to maintain law and jus-
tice. For he who is reared in a family unhallowed by the
presence of justice and of law tends to become a scoffer
of the one and a rebel against the other."
"If the first concern of a nation is its homes," says
Drummond, "it matters not what is second or third.'*
The nation is no better than its homes. Every good home
contributes something to the welfare of the nation. It
gives to the nation good citizens. It sets an example of
good living to the community.
When Roman fathers ceased instructing their boys in
the tables of the law, and Roman mothers no longer
told hero tales to their children, the downfall of Rome
began. Rome fell because Roman women became luxuri-
ous, pleasure-loving, and careless, and home training
was neglected.
The mothers of our country hold the fate of America
in their hands to-day. Every mother who reads this book
is helping to decide whether we are to be in the future
the land of the free and the home of the brave. Is your
child to be a rebel against law and order or a keeper of
the law.? Is your home a school for the state .^
HOW I MADE MY HOME ATTRACTIVE FOR THE
YOUNG PEOPLE
By F. G. B.
For several years I watched my sons and daughters
grow up and quietly, and at first unnoticeably, drift
337
TALKS TO MOTHERS
away from home. The evenings would usually find them
at some neighbor's house, where they seemed to enjoy
something which their own home denied them. At first I
lapsed into fits of melancholy because I thought we
were too poor to have the things which make the home
attractive. Finally I decided to make an eflFort to change
conditions.
One day while walking near a pine woods I noticed a
huge, peculiar-shaped pine root. I realized this would
make a unique rustic seat, and when placed under a
large oak tree in my yard with vines partly covering it,
the desired effect was obtained. One of my sons is very
handy with the saw and hammer. At my suggestion he
made a very creditable swing which was also placed un-
der a tree. A few more seats were placed about, and the
result was pleasing and inviting.
Next I turned my efforts to transforming the front
porch. Fortunately I had a very large one, but no flow-
ers, hammock, or cozy chairs adorned it. Soon I had sev-
eral ferns and other plants rooted, and I bought a very
pretty but inexpensive set of porch furniture. The
transformation was satisfactory. Our home was prettier
than ever before. It looked cool, comfortable, and at-
tractive.
I looked about me and noticed that my neighbors had
some kind of music in their homes. There was none in
mine. We could not afford a piano. I had some money I
had been saving for unexpected demands, but I decided
I could not spend it for a better purpose than to buy a
Victrola and a few good records.
With very little trouble and expense I feel that I am
338
THE HOME
amply repaid by seeing my children enjoy their home.
They hke to bring their friends in for the evening, and
now my house is one of the popular gathering-places of
the town.
A child's right to a happy home
G. W. TuTTLE says in Child-Welfare Magazine:
'* A child has a right to a happy home. A home where
love is; whose atmosphere is not spoiled with nagging,
and fault-finding, and complaining, and sarcastic re-
marks, and the malaria of ill nature. No use to hang
'God bless our Home' on the walls unless we engrave
it upon our hearts. God never gets a shadow of a chance
to bless some homes; the clouds of ill nature are so
heavy that even his sunshine cannot get through.
"Talk about miracles! When a child raised in such
an atmosphere makes good it is a miracle — a miracle
of grace.
" The child has a right to a sunny home, to congenial
parents, to pleasant surroundings ; to all that will make
the child happy and useful. Home should be to the child
a magnet that shall never lose its power: a light that shall
never grow dim. Alas for children who never know a
happy home until they go away from what they have
called *home.' It was only a misnomer; home is where
love is; home is where woman smiles, and loves, and
reigns. Earthly treasures alone never make a home.
Fill the house with choicest treasures, send your vessels o'er the sea.
Gather treasures from the Indies, and from far-famed Araby;
Hoard them up within the four walls, vacant still the house will seem
Till some woman fair adorn it with her smiling face serene.'
339
TALKS TO MOTHERS
" Is the pattern of a home that is continually before
the eyes of our children a good one? Could we say:
*Now, children, we hope you will have a home just like
this when you grow up?* Do we wish the best for our
children? Prove it! Set the best before their eyes now!
There is no place that resembles heaven so much as a
happy home."
XXXV
HOME FESTIVALS
"Sing we all merrily,
Draw round the fire.
Sister and brother.
Grandson and sire."
ONE of the "Mother Play" pictures shows a family
festival. It is the father's birthday and the entire
family joins in the celebration. The mother is cutting
lilies to offer as her gift. The children are filling a basket
of flowers. They will carry this to father singing a birth-
day song which they have learned for the occasion. And
what is father doing? He sits in the summer house draw-
ing a picture for his children. "He wants to give them a
pleasure on his birthday. Perhaps he is drawing the hills
in the early morning light with the beautiful sun rising
so quietly. The youngest daughter runs to him with a
little basket she has filled all by herself. She cannot wait
for the large basket. *Here, dear papa,' she says, *here
are some flowers for your birthday. Do you like them?
Mother and sister and brother have some more flowers
for you, and oh, such pretty ones!'"
I have given you this little scene and dialogue, be-
cause it gives us the spirit of a true festival. A poet has
said that happy days are wise days. Do you see how true
this is.? Love and joy and good-will blossom in our lives
in the happy days, just as flowers bloom in the sun-
shine. To make a child happy helps to make him good.
841
TALKS TO MOTHERS
While he is happy he has only good impulses and good
thoughts. Pleasant thoughts are good company. If they
are constant thoughts, they make a pleasant disposition
and a cheerful character. The happiest recollections of
our childhood cluster around days which gave us special
pleasure, as Christmas, Thanksgiving, picnic days, and
birthdays.
But happiness is not dependent on things. This lesson
is clearly taught in our "Mother Play." There has been
no long, bustling, worried preparation for the father's
birthday. The children have, no doubt, tended and wa-
tered the plants in the garden with a happy hope that
the lilies and roses will bloom for the birthday basket.
The father has given up his business for an hour that
he may celebrate with the children.
Everybody joins in the festival. Froebel claims that
such a home festival strengthens the bonds which bind
together the members of the family.
A UNITED FAMILY
When we unite to do the same things, moved by the
same impulse, we feel sympathy and love for those
united with us.
Home festivals and family reunions promote love of
home and foster family affection. Is not this proved by
the old New England Thanksgiving? Uncles and aunts
and grandchildren ride "over the meadow and through
the woods" to grandfather's house. They gather there
for fun and for the Thanksgiving dinner. They sit
around the same board. They laugh and joke together.
They sing together, maybe, some of the old songs.
34^
HOME FESTIVALS
Around the blazing fire they sit to recall tales of old
times.
They separate with a stronger feeling of love for the
old home and for each other.
The celebration of birthdays helps to make strong
family feeling. The celebration may be only a special
birthday cake with its candles or the singing of a song;
but the feeling of affection is strengthened by the coming
together to remember the day that makes us glad, be-
cause Mary or Martha or John came into the w^orld that
day.
The church festivals, such as Christmas and Easter,
or the Jewish festivals which young and old celebrate
together, help to keep a united family. Possibly they
help to keep a united church as well.
A UNITED NATION
We call ourselves the United States of America. What
unites us.? Our common traditions, our common ideals,
our common joys and hopes. That we may preserve
these traditions, let us celebrate our national holidays
which commemorate the great events in our history.
Thanksgiving Day belongs to the whole country and to
all our citizens. We may all rejoice together that a band
of Pilgrims had courage and faith to brave cold and hun-
ger and danger to secure freedom for themselves and for
all who should follow them.
Every home should teach the story of the lives of our
Pilgrim Fathers. The Thanksgiving feast, with all its
joyful preparations, offers the occasion for these lessons.
Mary and Martha may stone the raisins for the mince
343
TALKS TO MOTHERS
pies, OP cut up the pumpkin for the golden pumpkin
pies.
What do they talk about as they work? Do they know
the story of the first Thanksgiving? Can they tell it to
the younger children? Does the thought of many fami-
lies gathering together all over the country for the same
kind of giving thanks give an idea of a united country?
May we help to keep our unity by preserving these tra-
ditions in our many homes?
We have other national holidays to keep. Washing-
ton's Birthday, Lincoln's Birthday, Columbus Day,
Memorial Day. These give us the chance to keep alive
the memory of the great deeds of our great heroes. The
only notice of the day may be the hanging of the flag, or
a special story-hour; but any one new feature in the
daily routine of life marks the day as a Red Letter Day.
The Fourth of July is our national birthday. It should
be celebrated everywhere in a way to foster true Ameri-
canism. The boy who suggested that every family
should stand on its doorstep at six o'clock and sing
"America" was wise beyond his years.
The thought of that great chorus of voices singing, " My
country," would bring a splendid sense of togetherness.
"United we stand, divided we fall."
There never was a time when this motto was more
needed.
For that reason home festivals and community pag-
eants and festivals take on a new value. How much of the
love of "Merrie England" was due to the May-Day
dances on the green? How much of the strength and
unity of ancient Greece was due to the Greek games?
344
HOME FESTIVALS
GIFTS AND GIVING
"What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I 'd give Him a lamb;
If I were a wise man,
I 'd do my part.
What can I give Him?
Give Him my heart."
The giving of gifts is a part of many festivals. We give
gifts at Christmas-time for two reasons. We like to re-
member the gifts the Wise Men made to the Christ
Child. We express our love for our friends through our
gifts. Christmas giving may degenerate into a mere
period of spending money and a forced interchange of
expensive presents. These are no true gifts. We welcome
the offering which a child's love may bring. The offering
may be valueless in itself, but the love makes it price-
less.
In the kindergarten children make gifts for father,
mother, grandmother, and other members of the family.
Little hands are busy for days before the happy season.
Little hearts are glad with the happy impulse of giving.
When mother comes to the kindergarten Christmas tree
and receives her gift from the laden boughs, the joy is
complete.
"The gift without the giver is bare," says Lowell.
Every child who sews a Christmas star, or makes a
New Year's calendar, is giving himself with the gift, for
he has put many hours of loving thought into his work.
How shall mother receive these gifts.? I know mothers
345
TALKS TO MOTHERS
who have put them away in a treasure box. They take
them out years after when the little hands have grown
into strong, working hands and the little child has gone
from the home.
"WTiat sacred and precious memories they awaken!
Who would be without them.?
Sometimes a mother does not welcome the offering.
She does not see its meaning. Little Rose had struggled
during a whole morning to paint a picture for her
mother. It was a crude painting, to be sure; the colors
were high and the lines uneven, but it was the little girl's
best effort. When her mother returned at noon, Rose
ran to her with the painted sheet.
"It's for you, mother," she said.
"I don't see anything for me in that trash," said the
mother, as she threw it into the waste-basket. May that
mother lose some of the warmth of her child's love?
What loss does little Rose suffer?
"Love grows with being spent." The more we give to
a cause the more precious the cause becomes. The more
we give to a friend the more we love the friend. So a
child's love grows. Christmas and birthdays are special
times for happy giving.
But we must see that the gift is a real gift. Spending
money at the store for a bag for mother or a stamp-box
for father is not making a gift, unless John has earned
the money and has thought long of what father and
mother really desire. We may learn much from Emerson
about gifts. He says: "Next to things of necessity, the
rule for a gift, which one of my friends prescribed, is
that we might convey to some person that which prop-
S46
HOME FESTIVALS
erly belonged to his character, and was easily associated
with him in thought. But our tokens of compliment and
love are for the most part barbarous. Rings and other
jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only
gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me.
Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his
lamb; the farmer, his corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor,
coral and shells; the painter, his picture; the girl, a
handkerchief of her own sewing.'*
THE HEART OF THE FESTIVAL
Mr. Chubb says that as a nation we are starved emo-
tionally. We lose the richness and beauty of life because
we do not know how to play and how to enjoy it.
The festival has at its heart some great idea which
appeals to the emotions and calls for expression in some
outward form. Every kind of expression feeds the feehng
which prompts it. Choral singing, rhythmic movement,
dramatic representation, all these give emotional satis-
faction. What are some of the ideas which have created
our great festivals?
What is the real meaning of Christmas.'^ Is it not the
desire to spread peace and good-will among our friends
and kin? Loving and giving are the theme of Christmas.
Dickens's Scrooge is a well-known example of a man who
had stifled all friendly feelings for his kind. He was un-
able to share in the joy of Christmas, because he had
killed the spirit of Christmas. Through his vision of the
misery of the world where this spirit fails, he learned to
say, "A merry Christmas tc everybody." "And after-
wards, it was always said of him that he knew how to
347
TALKS TO MOTHERS
keep Christmas well if any man alive possessed that
knowledge."
Easter is the festival which tells us the great truth of
life from death. A brown bulb is put into the ground to
die, that a white lily may bloom. The caterpillar spins
its own shroud and wraps itself within it, that the gay
butterfly may be born.
And so at Easter we bring flowers to our churches and
into our homes, that they may tell this story. We keep
the day with songs of the lilies, songs of birds, and songs
of spring. We celebrate the awakening of life. We rejoice
that the winter is over and gone and the time of singing
birds is at hand.
Our patriotic festivals grow out of that deepest of all
loves, love of home and country. If we would keep the
feeling, let us keep the holiday.
I have had great pleasure in reading a set of papers
written by my students describing their Red Letter
Days. Some of these may suggest to you happy ways of
keeping home festivals.
The following is an account of a Christmas spent in
the Rockies :
A RED LETTER DAY IN MY LIFE
By Rosalie Stearns
The biggest Red Letter Day in my life and a particu-
larly shining memory in my childhood was a Christmas
Day when I was about eight years old. It was spent
with all of our big family gathered together at our coun-
try place in the heart of the Rocky Mountains.
Imagine, if you can, dear people in the East, range
348
HOME FESTIVALS
after range of snow clad mountains with an occasional
gleaming peak standing out in clear relief against the
intense blue of a Colorado sky. Imagine a little girl
bumping merrily down a mountain road perched high
on the branches of a great silver spruce, which old Agnes
the mare is dragging down to become my most memo-
rable Christmas tree. Three big brothers have superin-
tended the cutting and hauling of the tree, and now we
are off on another expedition to gather kinnikinnick and
mistletoe to decorate the living-room of the cottage.
There is a moment of awful suspense until the tree is
carefully straightened up in the corner of the room, and
we discover that it is not too tall after all!
Then comes the time for a small girl to be banished to
bed, and she goes with reluctant steps, but cherishing a
most delicious thrill about to-morrow. The night is not
so long as she feared it might be, and she awakes to a
joyous bedlam of ringing bells and " Merry Christ-
mases!" Is there any other morning in the year when
every one laughs and talks so much and forgets he is
fifty or twenty-one or eight years old?
After breakfast the living-room door is opened and
we enter a perfect fairyland. The first thing to greet a
small girl's eyes are of course her precious family of
dolls, all newly and beautifully garbed by mother's
clever hands. Only a moment to stop and gaze at the
glittering beauty of the tree. There are new skates in the
corner! I am half smothered by a hug from big brother
who has discovered the little calendar I had spent so
many days making him !
So the happy day goes until at nightfall comes that
S49
TALKS TO MOTHERS
most precious time of all — the Christmas dinner, when
father mulls the cider and we " oh '* and " oh " with
joy at the sight of the fat brown turkey. After dinner
there is the tired but thoroughly happy family gather-
ing around the big open fire, and I lie curled up in moth-
er's lap, watching the red flames chase the blue smoke,
and thinking what a happy, lucky little girl I am!
A CHRISTMAS DAY IN MY CHILDHOOD
By Charlotte M. Smith
Ever since I had been a tiny tot, I had played school
with every conceivable object. Even when I was sick in
bed the figures on the wall-paper were my pupils. They
interested me as much as real people.
As I grew older my scholars were dolls, but it always
seemed a great task to find enough desks and seats for
them.
One Christmas morning my brother and I ran joy-
fully into the living-room to see our tree and search its
wondrous branches for the gifts Santa had left. We
found them all, as I thought, and were happily amus-
ing ourselves, when mother, who was watching all the
fun, reminded me that the best of all was yet to be
found.
I hunted everywhere, and soon, in the corner of the
room behind the door, I saw that for which I had longed
and dreamed. Never as long as I live shall I forget the
feeling of joy and happiness that went through me as I
took my real little schoolroom.
My uncle had made it for me out of cigar-boxes.
There were chairs, desks, blackboard, and even window-
350
HOME FESTIVALS
boxes with paper flowers in them. The pupils were tiny
dolls which just fitted the chairs. There were eighteen in
all, nine boys dressed in little velvet suits and nine girls
all in dainty silk dresses. And indeed the teacher was
not lacking, for there she stood in front of the class with
a pointer in her hand ready to take up her duties at the
given word.
Happiness was certainly complete in my home that
day. And from that dolls' schoolroom I have tried stead-
ily to progress in order that some day the dreams of my
childhood may be realized.
A FOURTH OF JULY
By Hazel Green
The two days which stand out most clearly in my mem-
ory of my youth are July 4th and Thanksgiving.
We always went to my grandmother's farm, for the
summer, and so we were there for the Fourth ! The men
who had families and who lived near brought fireworks
of all varieties, balloons, Roman candles, and the like.
The women would prepare cakes, salads, chicken, and
other picnic food the day before. On the Fourth we
would get up very early and play in the morning. After
lunch we would help to set up the hop-picking tables, on
the lawn, and to put the tables around. After chores the
families from all around would come and we would have
supper. There were usually about twelve families. After
supper, when it was dark, we would have fireworks on
the bridge over the " old mill pond." This day was al-
ways looked forward to by us all, and talked of for
many days.
351
TALKS TO MOTHERS
AN APRIL CARNIVAL
By Novella Pearson
It was a lovely April day and I was so happy and ex-
cited.
Mother had worked for days on my costume and doll-
carriage. There was to be a costume and doll-carriage
parade. I was to be a Httle Dutch girl; my skirt was yel-
low with a red plaid yoke, the apron and waist were
white, there was a blue velvet bodice laced with black, a
yellow kerchief and a little white cap — and most won-
derful of all, a pair of real wooden shoes. My carriage
was decorated with red poppies.
At last I was ready and waiting with the other chil-
dren. A herald in a green velvet suit blew a trumpet as a
signal for the parade to appear. Each little character
was announced as he entered. It was such a joyous feel-
ing to be taking part with the Quaker girl. Boy Blue,
Red-Riding Hood, Bo-Peep, Tom the Piper's son, the
little Swiss peasant, and Ahce in Wonderland. We were
story people from the Land of Make-Believe — we
were just being happy together and the big people were
happy, too, so it seemed.
After the parade poppy ladies in red and green danced
gayly until they were tired; they then drooped sleepily
down. Softly the sunbeam fairies came and skipped
among the poppies and awakened them. The sunbeams
and the poppies danced away together.
A wee girl in a dainty pink costume danced on the tips
of her toes. Then we all ate ice-cream and cake at long
tables, and played games which we loved.
352
HOME FESTIVALS
At last it was over. I had to step out of my wooden
shoes and become just myself again. But I shall always
remember happily the little lady from Holland and the
carnival of an April day.
A MAY-DAY FESTIVAL
By Elizabeth Fitch
It seems so many years ago, yet the sight is vivid to
me, as if it were only a short time ago. May Day came
quickly and quietly as it always does. But this one May
Day I '11 never forget.
The day was as balmy as a May Day should be. The
open field was a picture. Costumes of every color. In the
center was a huge May Pole with streamers of ribbon
and flowers.
I was in a dream, in fairyland. Suddenly, the music
started and many children rushed forward in costumes
of every color to the May Pole. Round and round they
danced. I was one of the fairies, seemingly dancing to a
land of beautifulness.
After the ribbons were wound around the pole we
danced off the field as gayly as we came on.
Then a little playlet was given in rhythmic ways.
Children representing "flowers" crowded on the
ground. Then the wind danced in, little boys in costumes
of white, flowing in the breeze. Then in danced httle
girls dressed in yellow representing the sun. Little boys
then came in gray, representing the rain. Finally, the
"flowers" rose up and danced merrily away from the
field. Children represented violets, snowdrops, May-
flowers, etc. It certainly was a sight to behold. Well I
353
TALKS TO MOTHERS
remember it, for I was a little snowdrop. This was a day
in which I played a part in one of my most beloved
story-books.
MOTHER DAYS
By Elizabeth Fitch
I SHALL never forget some of the happj^ hours we spent
on rainy days. Those were the days when mother gave
up her unnecessary work or pleasure and played ivith us.
The stories she used to tell, the paper dolls she so often
made, the little tea-parties she used to give for our "ba-
bies" as we used to call them! For, indeed, in those
days, dolls seemed like real live people. I can still feel
the thrill which came from my first soap-bubble. It was
a thing I had never dreamed of before then. There is
nothing more beautiful than pretty bubbles floating in
the air, landing on the floor and breaking, or perhaps
breaking while still in the air.
Every once in a while mother used to take us to a
farm, which was a mile or so away, to see the ducks.
Those were certainly Red Letter Days for us. There was
a dear little pond with a tiny island in the center on
which a little house was built. This was where the ducks
made their home. We used to watch them waddle out of
the door into the water. How they could swim with
their funny feet, and what funny things they used to do,
such as turning somersaults and disappearing beneath
the water! It was all mother could do to drag us away
from that spot. I can almost see them now and hear
their "quack, quack."
XXXVI
THE MOTHER AND THE TEACHER
"God made man men, that they might live together."
Montaigne
"United we stand, divided we fall."
COOPERATION means operating or working to-
gether. When all the men are at work a mill is in
full operation. When men refuse to work or capital fails
the mill cannot operate.
The people who work are operatives. The man who
controls the mill, furnishes the money, and directs the
operations of manufacture is also an operative, for his
work is necessary to the filling of the orders and the de-
livery of products.
The farthest reaches of the world are bound together
by an endless chain and every worker makes one link of
this chain. Railways bind together the East and the
West, so that the grapes of California come to the sea-
ports of New England and the herring from the coast of
Maine feed the dwellers of Seattle. The wheat of Minne-
sota makes bread for New York and Boston and the
coal of Pennsylvania warms all our houses. Lines of
steamships bring to us, for our breakfast, tea from Japan
or coffee from Arabia, a dish of cereal from the golden
West and milk and cream from a farmer in a distant hill
town.
355
TALKS TO MOTHERS
**For want of a nail, a shoe was lost;
For want of a shoe, a horse was lost;
For want of a horse, a rider was lost;
For want of a rider, a battle was lost;
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."
So runs the old rhyme. More than ever before we are
seeing that the fate of nations depends, not on great
generals or on numbers of soldiers, but on the efficiency
and cooperation which produces supplies and the means
of warfare. The operative or the worker is no less neces-
sary than the soldier.
Every community is made up of a group of co-workers.
The carpenter must build us a house, the baker must
bake us our bread, the cobbler makes us a shoe, and the
weaver weaves the web of cloth we need for clothing.
The fields are golden with the heads of corn and the
meadows wave with a sea of wheat. Grass clothes the
hillsides to feed the creatures that they may give food to
man. The farmer ploughs the soil and plants the seed
and reaps the grain. He is a co-worker with Nature and
with the great Giver of all good. Without him the baby
would sicken and die for want of the fresh milk; the chil-
dren would suffer for lack of the bowl of bread and milk.
Every "hand" upon the farm, every "hand'* in a mill,
every "hand" in shop or on train or steamship is coop-
erating to feed the world.
The chain which binds together the citizens of a town
or city is a chain of service. The first link of this chain is
in the home. "No man liveth unto himself" and no
home is sufficient unto itself. A woman may say, "My
home is my world. I don't worry about what goes on
356
THE MOTHER AND THE TEACHER
outside." Her world would soon collapse if every one
took her view. To be a good mother and a good home-
maker is indeed a right ideal for every woman. Let us
see what it involves. Can she act alone for the good of
her own home.^^ In the first place, she must have food for
her family. The milk supply may come from a careless
farmer. The milk bottles are not clean and the milk is
full of germs. The baby has a bad throat trouble or
fever. Maybe it dies. What can the mother do? Alone
she is helpless. But the Board of Health may act or the
Women's Municipal League may secure legislation to
purify the milk supply. Can any mother remain silent
or inactive when she may help in the movement to regu-
late the bringing of pure milk to her owti home.^ Every
mother knows that flies are carriers of disease and that
they pollute food. Her butcher exposes his meat un-
screened in the market. She may protest, but one voice
will not be heard. If she joins with others, she makes the
public sentiment which regulates the markets. Mosqui-
toes are also carriers of poison and disease. That little
pool of water and those empty cans in your back yard
may mean discomfort and danger, not only to your own
home, but to your neighbors. Tin cans thrown out are
prime places for breeding these pests. In the summer of
1915 the mosquito was nearly eliminated in one section
of Long Island by a concerted campaign against tin
cans and stagnant pools of water.
Clean streets and good sewerage are necessary to the
health of your own family. Alone you are helpless to se-
cure them. But your club or your league has influence to
secure anything it demands.
357
TALKS TO MOTHERS
There is something else a home needs to make it a real
home and a good place for growing boys and girls. It
needs pleasant surroundings and a cheerful outlook. A
back yard may be made to blossom like a rose and an
ugly house may be transformed by the planting of vines
and shrubs. WTierever neighbors work together for such
transformation, the village becomes a good place to live
and the value of property rises.
The old Greeks were wise when they built in their
cities the most beautiful temples and public buildings
that the best architects could plan, and at every cor-
ner of the city placed fine statues. The school-children
saw beauty everywhere. The statues, monuments, and
fine streets of Athens were worth more to the youth of
that city than all the lessons of the schools. The young
Athenian grew up a lover of beauty and art, and art-
loving citizens made Athens the noblest and finest city
of ancient times and of all times.
Any town may have what it chooses. No one is con-
demned to endure ugly buildings and unsightly streets
and yards. When women unite to insist on best condi-
tions in the city or town for themselves and their chil-
dren, the result is assured. Each woman helps to make
pubKc sentiment and public sentiment controls public
action.
The school is the chief concern of every mother.
WTiat shall my child be taught? How shall it be taught?
Who shall teach it? These are questions every mother
should answer for herself. Nothing less than the health,
the ability, the morals and manners of the children are
at stake in this matter. Poor, unsanitary conditions in
358
THE MOTHER AND THE TEACHER
the schoolroom menace the health of children. An un-
cultivated, careless teacher will influence more by her
example than by her teachings. The lessons given, the
methods used, have a direct bearing on the intelligence
and eflSciency of the pupils. The choice of teacher is not
left to an individual mother, neither the selection and
arrangement of the schoolroom; but through the com-
bined influence of the neighborhood of parents, banded
together in a Parent-Teachers' Association, anything
may be secured.
Mrs. Easy may complain daily about the poor schools
in her district. Her Peter does not like his books, nor
does he clamor to go to school. He plays truant when
there is a chance. He has not too profound an acquaint-
ance with the multiplication table, nor does he write a
good hand. He is idle and has not learned to apply him-
self. Mrs. Easy knows that hand- work would be desira-
ble to form habits of application and to give a love of
work. She knows that nature work would interest Peter,
and that he would love to play store, and to learn in
that way to make change, to add, subtract, and multi-
ply. But the teacher does not dare to introduce fads nor
foolish play methods and the dreary routine goes on.
The boy crawls like a snail unwillingly to school and
runs away on any fine day.
Mrs. Dolittle does not like the school either. Her
Annie does not read well. She does not care for books
and cannot read aloud so that any one cares to hear her.
Annie's voice is harsh and shrill, due to the school prac-
tice of "speaking up."'Mrs. Dolittle does not like it,
but what can she do? She is n't the School Board
359
TALKS TO MOTHERS
and has nothing to do with it. She wishes she lived in a
town where there were modern schools and up-to-date
teachers.
Mrs. Doit moves into town. Her children lose interest
in school. They beg to stay at home. They get colds
when they go and dawdle at their work. Mrs. Doit visits
the school and talks with the teacher. She finds a ready
listener. The teacher knows better and is eager to try
better ways; but she is afraid of the Trustees and fearful
that the people won't stand for any new notions. Mrs.
Doit calls on all her neighbors and invites them to come
to a neighborhood meeting to discuss school matters.
The Committee grants the use of the school building,
when so large a number of citizens join in the request.
Some one comes to talk of better ways of teaching, or of
the selection of studies of real practical worth. A Parent-
Teachers' Association is formed. The teacher is encour-
aged and inspired to do her best. The parents are all
supporting her. Pleasant books for supplementary read-
ing are placed in the schoolroom. The boy who has fin-
ished his lessons has time to read a story, and he applies
himself to his task that it may soon be over. Cardboard
and wood for making boxes and furniture for a doll
house are placed on benches and shelves around the
room, and the boys and girls who have mastered their
arithmetic and spelling lessons have the chance to do
what their hearts desire. While the fingers are trained in
handling and making, calculation is necessary, the judg-
ment is exercised, and a habit of industry is bred. Per-
haps school credits for home work are allowed, and so
the children become more helpful and useful at home,
360
THE MOTHER AND THE TEACHER
The school is transformed and the children are trans-
formed. If the teacher herself loves reading and knows
the best of literature, many a boy or girl may acquire a
friendship for books which is a lifelong joy, if not the
means of a career. School gardens may follow, and school
shops, and, possibly, a school library. The school be-
comes the center of the neighborhood, a gathering-place
for the parents as well as for the boys and girls.
What Mrs. Doit does, any one may accomplish who
will secure the cooperation and help of her neighbors
and who really desires to secure the best advantages for
her own children.
For the little children every mother should demand a
kindergarten. The early period of childhood is the most
important for education. All that follows depends on
what is first done or left undone. A young child is not "a
little savage" to be left to a sand-heap in the back yard
or to the influences of the street. He is a human being in
the making. What he gains in the first five years of his
life, or what he fails to gain, is a permanent gain or loss.
Dispositions are shaped at this time, habits are formed,
and tendencies developed. A sullen, unloved childhood
means a crabbed manhood or womanhood. A listless
child means an idle, inefficient man or woman.
The best home cannot supply the companionship
requisite for social development, nor the direction of
the play activities which foster the intelligence of the
growing child.
The community child garden or kindergarten is a
necessity. Where the town or city cannot supply it, a
woman's club or group of families may support it.
361
TALKS TO MOTHERS
When Froebel first put forth his scheme for the edu-
cation of little children, he issued a call to the women
of Germany — matrons and maidens — to cooperate
with him in the high and noble oflfice of training chil-
dren. He declared the right training of the little ones to
be the foundation of all that is good and desirable in
citizenship and in life.
Such cooperation is called for to-day among the
women of America. Again a voice cries in the wilder-
ness, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord. Make his way
straight."
To you, mothers of little children, to you, teachers of
little children, the call comes. Work together to make a
straight highway for the coming of the Lord of right-
eousness. This straight way is none other than the way
of education.
APPENDIX
APPENDIX
METHODS AND MEANS OF STUDYING CHILDREN
By Lucy Wheelock
Froebel was the great prophet of the modem child
study movement. His method of making acquaintance
with the Hfe of childhood was neither by the keeping of
a life-book, nor an album, nor yet by the compilation of
records of observation of particular activities and tend-
encies in children. His was the more intimate method
of companionship.
**A foolish old man" he was denominated by the
practical people of the village, as they saw him walking
through the streets followed by a troop of children,
clinging to him wherever a tiny hand could get hold.
Utter foolishness to them were the plays organized and
directed by the friendly old man when he had conducted
his flock to the green slope of a protecting hill. With
the affection of a father bestowed upon the children
of others and with the almost motherly intuition of
a heart loving childhood for its own sake, the great
teacher proclaimed his gospel of salvation for humanity
through right means of child nurture and the elevation
of the ideal of family life.
His mission was to give to mothers and teachers
practical guidance in ways and means of employing and
directing to their proper ends the activities of children.
His secret, he said, was caught from mothers and is to
365
APPENDIX
be learned by the divining heart. His method was to
live with the children whom he would know, joining as
a friendly companion in the sports and plays which are
the true revealers of child life.
Froebel's mother takes care of her own children. She
shares in the joy of their first discovery of the kinship of
"friends in feathers and fur.'* With them she visits
garden and stream to watch the green, growing things,
and to enjoy the darting, shimmering play of the fish
and to make friends with chickens and pigeons. She
does not disturb with paltry explanations the childish
wonder over the silvery moon, sailing on high, and the
stars which light the dark, for out of this wonder
reverence is born. She may not always accompany her
children on their excursions; but she is ready to weave
together the incidents of the day into the bedtime story
and thereby stamp impressions and give continuity to
experience.
She sings the song or suggests the play to fit the
occasion and strengthen the lesson it teaches. She
opens the gates into the mysterious post-roads over
which the rolling wagons seem to go out to the end of
the world, and rejoices in the flight of the bird into the
infinite. She paints the human world as one of blessing
and goodness where every one may play a happy part.
The carpenter builds the friendly house that shelters
you and me; the farmer gives us daily bread; the coal-
man on his cart may have black hands but his heart is
kind and his work noble because necessary.
" For where should we get a knife, spoon or fork.
If the honest coal-digger were not at his work? "
APPENDIX
It is her privilege to foster the spirit of true worship,
as did the mother of Carlyle, by setting up in that
holy of holies — a child's heart — the altar of loving
trust and reverence. Her little ones see the loftiest whom
they know on earth bowed down before the loftier in
Heaven, and for them the busy day closes in peace. This
is FroebeFs picture of a mother living with her children.
*'I live for my children," says the anxious hard-
working mother, busy with elaborate gowns and coats,
suitable for the season, and no worse than her neighbor's.
She has little time to make herself the friend and con-
fidante of her boys and girls, and later, with a constant
heartache, knows that she has lost them. *'It is all /or
my children" is the excuse of the father, too much oc-
cupied with business to make even the acquaintance of
his family. One could almost envy Harry Richmond the
possession of a father, impossible, to be sure, in worldly
ways, but able to make himself into a menagerie of
noble and spirited animals, and so to vivify the history
of kings and queens as to make them inspiring friends,
and to introduce the wild, courageous Will Shakespeare
as a boon companion — not an altogether admirable
parent; but who would not choose such a father rather
than a Feveril with a system warranted perfect in itself;
but not warranted to fit.^
We may study groups of children to discover certain
universal qualities. We may study the child, that ab-
stract nonenity to whom all ready-made systems owe
their origin. Then there is a child, shy, variable, incom-
prehensible, eluding all our systems, our notebook and
our records. Who is wise enough to know this "wild
367
APPENDIX
child-heart," to lure it from the dark of its own individ-
ual consciousness? Without knowledge who is able to
guide it into fullness of life?
"Warm it by your own heart" is FroebeFs advice to
those who would use his book of child and mother lore.
But this is not all.
Community of interest must always lead to cooper-
ation. One may understand one's own child better by
knowing how another has been trained. A true mother
sees her own child in every child. "To communicate,
forget not" is a good scriptural injunction. The woman's
club has been an important influence in widening the
interests and enlarging the life of woman; but more
important than the literary club or the travelers' circle
or the science class is the mothers' round table or, better
still, the parents' association, where the problems of
child nurture are earnestly discussed. Such associations
should constitute a part of the social life of every com-
munity, and should make available to all the constantly
increasing literature of child study. Mr. Will Monroe
has compiled a bibliography of the subject, showing
already a long list of books, pamphlets and periodicals.
The list may be indefinitely extended by the books,
good for us all, which give true pictures of child life and
so help revive childish memories and make one a child
again, even for one night.
"He is best able to guide childhood who can most
easily follow back the thread of life to childhood," says
Froebel. To remember what made us laugh and what
made us cry, to recall the message whispered long ago
by birds and flowers, to feel again the thrill of the half-
368
APPENDIX
sad ecstasy of the sighing wind among the trees, or the
joy of dancing rain drops on the sidewalk is to enter on
the borders of the land of childhood. There are a few
fathers and mothers and rare grandfathers who, like
Gladstone, are able to retain the love of sports and the
feeling of play which make a happy companion anywhere.
To those hardened by the cares of the world and the
deceitf ulness of riches, no better boon can be given than
the child whose demand for love and sympathy is like
the warming sun of spring to the ice-bound earth. It
is well for a busy man or woman to read occasionally
such books as "Silas Marner," Mrs. Burnett's "One I
Knew the Best of All," or Pierre Loti's "Romance of
a Child," of which an English translation has recently
appeared. Such reading will change the weights of the
balance for a little while and sometimes readjust one's
view of the world.
A teacher who is only a part of a system bound to the
uniform standard of promotion by which all pupils alike
must be measured, whether quick or dull of wit, weak
or robust in body, needs especially the baptism of spirit
that comes from forgetting that the children are her
pupils and trying to know them as living things. She
needs to live with children by playing their games and
thinking their thoughts. She needs to get the poet's
view of childhood that holds the ideal above the drudg-
ery of the real.
No doubt she should be more scientific. Let her learn
what experts are doing in psychological laboratories, if
she is able. Let her study to know the physical defects
and mental limitations of her pupils. Let her be quick
369
APPENDIX
to detect signs of fatigue and to avoid the cause. Let her
provide for bodily comfort, as far as she is responsible,
by attention to seating and matters of hygiene. Let her
watch for nascent periods of development of func-
tion that she may always know what to do and when
to do it. Let her — oh, wonderful woman — be as wise
as Minerva and far wiser; but let her not neglect the
weightier matters of the law which commands love as
its own fulfilling.
For both mothers and teachers the question of moral
and religious training is an all-important one. In the
Puritan household, children were taught morals and
religion by the Westminster Catechism, Scripture texts,
and Sunday school lessons. *'Poor Richard's Alma-
nac" was as good as any other textbook of morals.
A few excellent proverbs were current, such as "Ex-
ample is better than precept,'* and *' As the twig is bent
the tree is inclined," but it is reserved for the modern
study of imitation, suggestion and habit to estimate the
force of unconscious influence in building character and
awakening ideals. Here again we are indebted to the
psychologists, notably Professors Royce, Baldwin, and
James, for blazing a path along which the ordinary
wayfarer may travel.
"My mother says so," is usually a child's conclusive
argument, but after all what really determines a child's
view of any situation is what he divines mother to be
in spite of what she says. The family standards of life
will ordinarily fall as a heritage to the children. These
are learned, not by the precepts or texts taught, but
by the ordinary conversation heard by wide-awake
370
APPENDIX
listeners and the business transactions witnessed by eyes
eager to learn what the world is like.
A valuable contribution to child-study literature is
*'The Study of the Religious Life of California Chil-
dren," by Earl Barnes. This gives the account of a
somewhat extended examination of school children in
California to ascertain their religious concepts and be-
liefs. It suggests the ineffectiveness of current methods
to convey appropriate religious ideas and the great gap
between instruction and religion.
One of the most sympathetic observations of the
unfolding of the spiritual is found in Miss Peabody's
** Lectures to Kindergartners," a record of the child
entrusted to her care to receive his first ideas of religion.
*'What a child cannot understand of religion," says
Ruskin, *'no man need try to," and yet unseeing souls
would force open the beautiful gate of the temple, not
knowing that it is always open to children. By wise
guidance the implicit faith of childhood may be trans-
formed gradually into genuine religious feeling.
A certain delightful book is dedicated "to children
and those who love them." Very few people would
choose to be left out of the latter class; but it would be
greatly decreased if limited to those who love wisely.
To know what to do is little easier than to do, but the
means of knowledge are increasing every day with the
growing literature on the subject of child culture and
the ever- widening interest it creates. The child's world
is not a little one, but a wide, goodly land. Happy are
those able to enter in!
THINKING AND ANSWERING
By Dr. Woods Hutchinson
Suppose, as you are walking home from school todayj
you are about to cross the street when you see an auto-
mobile coming very fast. What do you do? You stop,
of course; wait for it to go by, and then start on again.
Why do you stop? " Why," you say, "if I did n't, the
automobile might run over me." Something of that
sort would just flash through your mind, would n't it, in
the very same second that you first saw the automo-
bile coming. Now, as you know, you think with your
brain. But what was it this time that set your brain to
thinking? " Nothing," you say, " I just saw the auto-
mobile coming." And that is true in a way: you did n*t
need anything more than your eyes to tell you.
But how did your eyes get the message to your
brain, and how did your brain tell your legs to stop
walking? We must have in our bodies a kind of tele-
phone system. And that is, in fact, just what we have.
Our brain is our "central oflSce "; and our nerves are the
wires, running from all parts of our body to the brain,
carrying messages back and forth.
An old man and an old woman lived out on the very
edge of a little town. One day their house caught
fire and was blazing away before they noticed it. They
rushed to their neighbor's telephone and rang up " Cen-
tral " to tell her to " 'phone " for the firemen and hose
cart. Kling a-ling-a-lingl went their bell, but no " Cen-
372
APPENDIX
tral " answered; and while a man was running to town
to get the firemen, the fire got such a good start that
the house burned down.
You can see from this why we need a central oflice in
good working order, when we use the " 'phone." All the
wires run into the one building, and there must be some
one there to receive calls and see that they are sent out
to their proper places. In this case, you see, " Central "
should have been at her post to see that the message
went on to the engine house, and then the fire would
have been put out "double-quick."
The " central oflSce " of our Body Telephone System
is just as important and just as necessary to keep in
good working order. It would be very little use to have
even the keenest of eyes and the sharpest of ears, with
the readiest of nerve wires to carry their messages into
the center of the body, unless we had some orgariy or
headquarters, there for switching the messages over
to the nerves running to the right muscles to tell them
what to do. If the brain " Central " should fail in its
duty or get out of order, then the body would be in
serious trouble at once.
Every day we read in the papers of accidents be-
cause somebody didn't think, as well as see or hear.
People see cars and automobiles coming, but don't
give them a thought and so are run down and hurt.
They hear the whistle of the engine at the crossing, but
drive on just the same, without seeming to have heard it
at all. They are absent-minded ; the operator in the " cen-
tral ofl5ce " seems to be off duty, or busy about some-
thing else. But if we are going to get on in this world
373
APPENDIX
of cars and automobiles and all sorts of unexpected
things, we must always "have our wits about us," as
the saying goes, ready to send the messages out to the
muscles in our legs and arms and fingers just as soon as
any one of our Five Senses " rings up " the *' Central "
in our brain.
Our body wires do not look at all Hke telephone
wires; and the brain, if you could see it, would never
suggest to you a central office.
The nerves are fine |white cords, the smallest ones
finer than a hair, and the largest so big and strong that
you could lift the body by it; and their branches run all
over the body, to the muscles and the blood tubes and
the skin and all the other parts. You have already read
how the skin can tell you when you feel warm and when
you feel cold and when something hurts you.
The brain is a soft wrinkled mass, partly gray and
partly white. It is in the head, and because it is very
soft and easily hurt. Mother Nature has put around it
a strong wall, or shell, of bone — the skull, or brain
box. Feel your head and see how verj^ hard this bone is.
Solomon, the Hebrew poet-king, called it the " golden
bowl." I suppose he called it a "bowl" because it is
round like one, and " golden " because it is so precious.
People do not often grow well again if the "golden
bowl " is broken or even cracked.
The big nerve cable, called the spinal cordy that con-
nects the brain with the rest of the body, and carries
all the messages backward and forward, runs down the
back and is protected by the backbone, or spine, which
is hollow, so that the cord can run down through it.
374
APPENDIX
This backbone is joined together so beautifully, too.
that you can bend your back about and stoop over, and
carry heavy weights on your back, and yet the bony
tube still protects the cord inside. Solomon calls this
the " silver cord," because it is so white and shiny that it
looks like silver. You see, our bodies are full of beauti-
ful as well as wonderful things.
Probably sometime when your teacher has asked you
to recite a poem you have all learned, some one in
the class has answered, "I don't remember it," or has
stood up and recited the first few lines and then stopped,
and thought, and finally had to say, " I can't go on."
Now what is the matter with this boy, or girl.? He
looks bright enough, and you will probably remember
that he was in the class .when you learned the poem.
" Oh," you say, *' the poem did n't stay in his head." No,
it did n't " stick " in his memory; but why did n't it.^*
Some of the messages that the Five Senses carry
to the brain are answered at once, as when we move
away from danger, or reach out our hands and help
ourselves to butter, or take off a shoe to shake out a
pebble. But there are other messages that do not call
for an immediate reply and are just stored away for
future use in the big " central office " of our Body Tele-
phone, in what we call our memory. And later, when the
proper message is sent in by our eyes or ears, or other
sense organs, which reminds us of this message which
they sent before, perhaps several weeks, months, or
even years ago, it wakes up the old message stored
away in the memory, and we say we " remember" what
happened to us, or what we learned at that time.
375
APPENDIX
So, when your teacher asks you to recite a certain
poem, and your ears hear the title or the first line, you
recall the rest of the verses and the lesson about it. How
many things does the word " Christmas " wake up out of
your memory? or the sight of soldiers marching? or the
first taste of strawberries in May?
You think about a great many things that you
never do. Really you are thinking almost all the time you
are awake. And besides the messages that " Central "
just stores away for future use, there are a great many,
messages being carried back and forth along the "tele-
phone systfem " all the time, that you don't keep track of
at all — the messages that keep the stomach and the
heart and the lungs and everything in your body work-
ing together properly.
How are we to take care of the telephone lines and
" Central " of our nervous system? Whatever you do to
build up and help the other parts of the body will help
your brain to feel and think and remember; and will help
your muscles and nerves to answer promptly and truly
whatever the message may be. Plenty of good food,
plenty of sleep and fresh air, plenty of play, will keep
your nerves and brain healthy and growing.
THE CITY BEAUTIFUL
By Dr. Woods Hutchinson
One morning I stopped a moment on the street to speak
to a friend. Her little nephew had just finished eating
some candy, and down went his candy-bag on the pave-
ment. His aunt happened to see it. "Oh, no, Claude,"
she said, "don't you see the big green can there? Better
put it into that." But Claude was only three years old;
and the can was so tall that he could not tell what it was,
till we led him up to it.
Do you have cans like these in your town, too? It is
good to think that every one of us, even such little fel-
lows as Claude, can help to keep the city beautiful. But
it is not simply to make things look nice that we have so
many cans — cans for ashes, cans for papers, cans for
food scraps. No indeed, it is to keep the city clean and
make it fit for people to live in; for if dirty papers and
scraps were left to blow about the streets, they would
fill the air with germs and filth.
Any dust that blows about the streets is likely to be
carrying disease germs with it. That is why we have
sprinklers driven through the streets to wet them and to
keep down the dust; and why, in large cities, the streets
are thoroughly flooded at night. If the streets are kept
damp and clean, then the air above them is cool and
fresh and pure.
How does the city get rid of all the dirt and waste?
From every house there are two kinds of waste. Some is
377
APPENDIX
taken away in pipes from the sink and bathroom out
into pipes that run under the street, and these carry it
away from the city to some stream or deep water that
takes it entirely away from the town.
The waste stuffs that are not watery, but solid —
cabbage leaves, apple cores, potato parings, and other
scraps from the kitchen are carted away and burned or
fed to pigs. The ashes and tin cans are carted away, also,
and used in making new land or filling up hollow places.
Besides taking away the dirt, cities are careful to get
clear, pure drinking water. They are very, very careful
about this; and they usually have the water tested often,
because, as you have learned, even water that looks per-
fectly pure may give people typhoid fever. That is why,
when you are out in the country, on a picnic perhaps,
you must not drink from the streams. They may receive
the drainage from a farmer's barnyard, or the sewage
from some house.
The more we all learn about these things, the more
careful will the city be to protect her people. To be sure,
most cities now have Boards of Health who employ men
and women to go about and see that the food in the
stores is clean — no flies, no dust, and no tobacco smoke
on it. They have laws, too, about keeping milk clean;
and in New York alone these laws have saved the lives
of thousands of babies. And they have laws about the
care of streets and buildings and cars and parks and a
great many other things.
In all these things we have been talking about, I want
you to be thinking how you can help. For a city is made
up of people — boys and girls and men and women. The
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APPENDIX
city is what its people make it; and every one must help,
even the smallest children, no older than little Claude.
The first and most important thing for you to do is to
keep yourself clean and tidy. And the next thing is for
you to keep your back yard as well as your front yard
and the school yard and the street free from papers and
sticks and cans and old playthings. You can put away
your things when you are through playing; or, if you are
making a railroad or a town or a playhouse, you can
leave it looking nice and tidy. You can help chiefly by
putting away your own things. You know the old say-
ing, "A workman is known by his chips"; and a good
workman always works in an orderly way.
When you eat apples or bananas or oranges, don't
throw the skins or peelings about, but put them in a
garbage can or swill bucket or cover them with soft dirt
in the garden or stable yard; and don't throw peanut
shells, or scraps of paper and the like, about the streets
or parks. You should begin to notice all these things and
talk about them, and that will make other people begin
to think about them, too.
Then you can make gardens instead of leaving bare,
untidy back yards. I think that nicely kept vegetable
gardens are almost as pretty as flower gardens. If you
cannot mow the lawn, you can at least cut the long grass
on the edges; and that makes such a difference! It is
wonderful how much boys and girls can do in making
and keeping a city really beautiful.
I hope that you have plenty of room to play in now.
Of course, when you grow up, you will see that there are
plenty of playgrounds and parks for the children. We
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APPENDIX
are beginning to find out that the richest and the most
beautiful city is the one whose streets are Hned with
families of happy, rosy-cheeked children. So, you see
the "City Beautiful" is the one that takes best care of
her children, and she can do this only by keeping her
streets and houses perfectly clean and seeing that the
food her people get is fresh and good, and their drinking
water pure. If the city or town you live in is not like this,
be sure you do your very best to make it better.
There is one great evil that for hundreds and hun-
dreds of years has been known wherever people are
crowded together, and even in the open country, too;
and which has been the cause of more untidiness and
uncleanliness and unhappiness and disease than any
other evil ever known. And that is the drinking of alco-
hol. People don't drink clear alcohol, but they can get
a great deal of it — enough to poison them badly —
in the fermented drinks you learned about some time
ago.
In the days when your grandfather was a little boy,
every man thought that ale and wine and whiskey were
good foods for him when he was well; and good medicine
when he was sick. He believed that they gave him an
appetite, and increased his strength. But now we have
found, by carefully studying the effects of alcohol, in
laboratories and in hospitals, that these beHefs were al-
most entirely mistaken. We know that all that wine,
beer, and whiskey do is to make people feel better for a
little while, without making them actually stronger or
better in any way. In fact, in most respects these drinks
make them weaker and worse instead.
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Perhaps you will ask, "How do whiskey and wine and
beer do us harm?" And here is only part of the answer:
(1) They tire the heart and, by enlarging the blood pipes
in the skin, make the heart pump too much of the blood
out to the skin. In this way they make a person feel
warmer when he really is not any warmer. (2) They
make the liver work too hard. (3) They dull the brain,
so that it cannot think so clearly or so well. (4) If one
drinks them frequently, it is harder for him to get well
when he is sick; more people die out of those who drink
alcohol than out of those who do not.
Alcohol is a narcotic; that is, it deadens our nerves,
for the time being, to any sensations of pain or discom-
fort, much in the same way that a very small dose of
morphine or opium would. We may imagine it does us
good because, for a little while after drinking it, we may
cease to feel pain or fatigue or cold ; but, instead of mak-
ing us really better and able to do more work, it is dull-
ing our nerves so that we work more slowly and more
clumsily. Men who have carefully measured the amount
of work that they do have found that they do less work
on days when they take one or two glasses of beer or
wine than they do on days when they drink only water.
The great insurance companies have found that those
of their policy holders who drink no alcohol at all live
nearly one fourth longer and have nearly one third
fewer sicknesses than those who drink alcohol even in
moderate amounts.
Indeed, so strong is the evidence as to the bad effects
of alcohol, and so steadily is it increasing, that it will
probably not be very many years more before the drink-
APPENDIX
ing of wine or beer by intelligent, thoughtful people will
have become less than half as common as it is now.
Strong, healthy men may be able for a long time to
drink small amounts of liquor without noticing any
harmful eflFects; but all the time the alcohol may be do-
ing serious harm to their nerves and brain and kidneys
and liver and blood vessels, which they will not find out
until it is too late to stop the trouble.
Useless and bad as alcohol is for full-grown men and
women, it is even worse for young and growing children;
and no child, and no boy or girl under the age of twenty-
onCi should ever touch a drop of it, except in those rare
instances where it may be prescribed as a medicine by a
doctor, just as many other drugs are, which in larger
doses would be poisons.
Fortunately, it will be no trouble for you children to
let it alone entirely; for not one of you would like the
taste of it the first time — or, indeed, for the matter of
that, for the first ten or twelve times — that you tried
to drink it, if you should be so fooHsh. This is one strik-
ing difference between alcohol and all other foods and
drinks. Children have absolutely no natural liking or
taste, for the drinks that contain it, as they have for
meat, milk, sugar, apples, and the other real foods. This
is Nature's way of telling them that it is not a real food,
and not needed in any way for their growth and health.
Let it alone absolutely, until you are at least twenty-
one years old; and by that time you will probably have
become so convinced of the harm that it is doing that
you will never begin using it at all.
What we have been saying so far applies, of course,
382
APPENDIX
only to the moderate use of alcohol. How terrible the
effects of the long or excessive use of alcohol are, you
don't need to learn from a book. All you have to do is to
keep your eyes open on the streets, and see the drunken
men reeling along the sidewalk, and the wrecks of men
that hang around the saloons. The poorhouses and the
jails and the insane asylums are filled with them. The
most terrible thing that can happen to any one is to be-
come a drunkard. The best and safest and only sensible
thing to do is to keep away from the only stuff that
makes drunkards. It may do you the most terrible
harm, and it cannot do you the slightest good.
Your city can never become the "City Beautiful" so
long as this evil mars it; and, as you grow up, I hope
you will do all you can toward making the right kind of
city and home.
REFERENCE LISTS
VI. CHILD PLAY
Education through Recreation, by George E. Johnson. Cleve-
land Survey Foundation.
Education through Plays and Games, by George E. Johnson.
Play in Education, by Joseph Lee.
The Kindergarten Children s Hour.
Vol. 5, Songs, vnth Music.
Vol. 2, Children's Occwpations.
Songs and Music ofFroebeVs Mother Play, edited by Susan Blow.
Children's Rights, by Kate Douglas Wiggin.
Vn. PLAYTfflNGS
Levana, by Jean Paul Richter.
Joan and Peter, by H. G. Wells. Chapter iv.
Jeremy. The Birthday, by Hugh Walpole. Chapter I.
The Kindergarten Children's Hour.
Vol. 2, Children's Occupations.
Children's Rights, by Kate Douglas Wiggm.
Kindergarten Theory and Practice, by Nora Atwood.
Vni. THE LITTLE WORKMAN
Student's Froebel. Translated by William H. Herford.
The Kindergarten Children's Hour.
Vol. 3, Talks to Children.
Fundamentals of Child Study, by Edwin A. Kirkpatrick.
X. THE HELPFUL CHILD
The Place of Industries in Elementary Education, by Katherine
E. Dopp.
When Mother Lets Us Cook, When Mother Lets Us Keep Pets,
by Constance Johnson.
385
REFERENCE LISTS
Elementary Wood Work (Carpentry for Boys, by George B.
KUbon).
Manual Training Toys, by Harris W. Moore.
The Child Housekeeper, by Colson and Chittenden.
Wings and the Child, The Would-Be-Goods, by E. Nesbit.
Stories
"How the Home Was Built"; "The Little Home"; "The
Journey"; in Mother Stories, by Maud Lindsay.
"The Pig Brother"; "The Wheat Field"; "The Coming of
the King"; "The Sailor Man"; in Golden Windows, by
Laura Richards.
Poems
"Employment," by Jane Taylor, in Pinafore Palace.
"System," in A Child's Garden of Verses, by Robert Louis
Stevenson.
"Good-Night and Good-Morning"; "What May Happen to a
Thimble," in The Posy Ring.
XI. HOW CHILDREN LEARN
Studenfs Froebel. Translated by William H. Herford.
The Kingdom of the Child, by Alice M. H. Heniger.
The Imitative Functions, by Josiah Royce.
The Mind of the Child, by Mark Baldwin. Chapter, "Plastic
Imitation."
The Great Stone Face, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
The Children's Hour.
Vol. 4, Legendary Heroes.
Mottoes and Commentaries of FroebeVs Mother Play,
Trade Plays.
Emerson's Essay on Manners.
Xn. THE LISTENING CHILD
The Art of Story -Telling, by Marie L. Shedlock.
How to Tell Stories to Children, by Sara Cone Bryant.
386
REFERENCE LISTS
The Kindergarten Children's Hour.
Vol. 1, Stories for Little Children.
The Child's World, by Emilie Poulsson.
XV. THE CHILD AND HIS BOOK
Children's Rights, by Kate Douglas Wiggin. Chapter, "What
Shall ChUdren Read."
Sons and Daughters, by Sidonie M. Gruenberg. Pages 192-198.
What Literature Can Do for Me, by Alfonso Smith.
Books and Culture, by Hamilton Mabie.
XVI. THE LITTLE ACTOR
The Kingdom of the Child, by Alice M. H. Heniger.
Social Education, by Colin A. Scott.
XVII. THE LITTLE ARTIST
French Ways and Their Meaning, by Edith \Miarton. Chap-
ter V, "Continuity."
Student's Froebel. Translated by William H. Herford. Pages
41-43.
XVni. THE SINGING CHILD
Songs, Games, and Rhymes, by E. L. Hailmann.
The Baby's Bouquet, by Walter Crane.
Songs for Little People, by Frances Weld Danielson and Grace
Wilbur Conant.
Old Songs for Young Americans, by C. Forsythe.
Home Songs My Children Love.
Hymns That Every Child Should Knoiv, edited by Dolores
Bacon.
XX. THE QUESTIONING CHILD
"The Elephant's Child," in Just So Stories, by Rudyard Kip«
ling.
The Truth About Santa Claus, by Charlotte M. Vaile.
387
REFERENCE LISTS
Lesson V, "Child Nature and ChUd Nurture," by Edward
Porter St. John.
The Moral Problem of Children. The Mary Wood-Allen Fund,
601 West 156th Street, New York.
The Art of Questioning, by H. H. Home.
Kindergarten Theory and Practice, by Nora A. Atwood.
Student's Froebel, pp. 73-83. Translated by William H. Her-
ford.
A Child's Day, by Dr. Woods Hutchinson.
XXII. THE SOCIAL CHILD
Psychology of Childhood, by Norsworthj^ and Whitley. Chapter
IV.
A Study of Child Nature, by Elizabeth Harrison.
Fundamentals of Child Study, by Edwin A. Kirkpatrick.
Play in Education, by Joseph Lee.
Festivals and Plays, by Percival Chubb.
Education and Living, by Randolph Bourne.
Kindergarten Tlieory and Practice, by Nora Atwood.
Two Children of the Foothills, by Elizabeth Harrison.
Finger Plays, by Emilie Poulsson.
The One I Knew the Best of All, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
Una Mary, by Una Hunt.
Things My Children Love to Eat, by Elizabeth Colson
(Contains suggestions for picnics and parties.)
Ice-Breakers, by Edna Geister.
XXIV. THE OBEDIENT CHILD
Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole. Chapter xi, "The Merry-Go-
Round."
How to Know Your Child, by Miriam Finn Scott. Chapter vi.
How to Teach Children Through Stories, by Elizabeth Mc-
Cracken. Chapter vin.
Children's Rights, by Kate Douglas Wiggin. Chapter, "How
Shall we Govern our Children?"
388
REFERENCE LISTS
XXV. THE HONEST CHILD
The Use of Money, by Edwin A. Kirkpatrick.
My Boy, by Carl Ewald.
XXVI. THE ANGRY CHILD
Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole. Chapter vi, "Family Pride."
Sons and Daughters, by Sidonie M. Gruenberg. "The Child's
Pugnacity."
Crow Child, Land of Puck, by Mary Mapes Dodge.
"King and His Hawk," by Baldwin. From Fifty Famous
Stories.
How to Teach Children Through Stories, by Elizabeth Mc-
Cracken. Chapter ix, "Self-Control."
XXVn. THE CARELESS CHILD
**A11 Gone, Mottoes and Commentaries of FroeheVs Mother
Play. Translated by Susan E. Blow.
"Blunder," in Child Life in Prose.
Careless Jane, by Howard Pyle.
XXVni. THE TRUTHFUL CHILD
Jeremy, by Hugh Walpole. Chapter iii, "The Christmas
Pantomime."
The Caxtons, by Bulwer Lytton.
"Stolen Corn," in For the Children's Hour, by Bailey and
Lewis.
Psychology of Childhood, by Norsworthy and Whitley. Chap-
ter IX.
How to Teach Children Through Stories, by Elizabeth Mc-
Cracken. Chapter vn, "Truthfulness."
XXX. THE BAD CHILD
Thff Wayward Child, by Hannah Kent Schoff.
Study of Child Nature, by Elizabeth Harrison.
How to Live, by Dr. Edward Everett Hale.
389
REFERENCE LISTS
XXXI. THE EVENING PRAYER
I Samuel, 3 : 1-10.
My Prayers. Copies may be obtained by addressing Noonday
Meditation, 100 Central Park South, New York. (Free.)
A Study of Child Nature, by Elizabeth Harrison, pp. 181, 182.
As the Twig Is Bent, by Susan Chenery, pp. 147, 148.
Children's Ways, by James Sully, p. 82.
Lessons for the Cradle Roll, by Frances W. Danielson.
Stories
"The Story of Harriet Ann"; in Story-Telling in School and
Ho7ne, by Partridge.
"The Stars"; "The Stranger"; in Golden Windows, by Laura
Richards.
Poems
"The Character of the Happy Warrior," by William Words-
worth.
"In the Firelight"; in A Little Book of Western Verse, by Eu-
gene Field.
"Prayer for a Little Boy"; in Rhymes for Little Boys, by
Burges Johnson.
"Night and Day"; in Rhymes and Jingles, by Mary Mapes
Dodge.
"The God of My Childhood"; "The Shadow"; m Child Life,
by Whittier.
XXXn. THE LITTLE CITIZEN
The Teaching of Civics, by Mabel Hill.
Education and Living, by Randolph Bourne.
Real Business of Living, by James H. Tufts.
Citizen. Chapter xxx, " What the City does for its Citizens."
Brothers, pp. 13, 14, 19, 20, 21.
Work. Chapter xxn, " Business and Industry as Public
Service."
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