 28. It is said that the average Chinese have such a reverence for the written word as implicitly to believe whatever comes to them in black and white, and that unprincipled foreigners who know this Chinese trait have utilized it by printing deceptive advertisements. We who have been brought up on hand-bills, daily papers, and posters are not so credulous. Nevertheless, what we read often impresses us more than what we hear. When it reiterates what we hear, the impression is intensified, hence it pays to advertise. We grow so tired of reiterating necessary admonitions and of suppressing unnecessary ones, that it is a great relief occasionally to resort to memoranda, notices, and small posters when our young people have reached the age of comprehending such things. It is an efficient plan and saves much annoyance. Also, it introduces an element of novelty into the monotonous succession of parental injunctions. Our children are always surprising us, you know, sometimes pleasantly and sometimes quite otherwise, but to them we usually show great sameness. This, by the way, has several disadvantages. They take us too much for granted. They do not stop to consider us afresh. They never acquire the wholesome attitude of detached consideration. Most homemakers will agree that they usually discover advantageous new arrangements of the furnishings of their homes when the routine of daily living is broken into by preparation for company. Then they halt and consider every familiar detail from the point of view of the expected guest, what questions are settled during the sweeping, what unforeseen solutions dawn upon one when dusting, and all under the stimulus of the unusual, for the material at hand may not have changed a wit. So in dealing with our children a touch of the unexpected does help wonderfully, and when a dash of fun can be added why so much the better. A conspicuous poster pinned to the curtain of a girl's room, the owners would like to offer a reward of five hundred dollars for the return of their set of Mark Twain to the library, or a notice pinned to a boy's pillow which says, pajamas found on the floor of the owner's room will hereafter be hidden by the chambermaid, and has a skinny-looking figure composed of a few angular lines and a circular head, the face showing a downward turn of mouth and eyes pointing to the printing. All such devices utilized occasionally are very practical. It is practical also, when pinning notices to pillows, to use tinted paper and a safety pin, else the occupant of the bed may discover more point to it all than was intended. It does not take long to do such things, and it pays in more ways than one, as the experimenter will soon discover. One twelve-year-old lad, whose busy mother still managed to steal time from the larger affairs of life for such expedience as this for lessening the friction without lowering the standards of the home training, one day found her son considering her with eyes which were at once puzzled and affectionately smiling. I should think, he remarked, that I would be used to you by this time, but I am not. Every now and then you do such an unexpected thing that I just have to sit down and think about you, and he never dreamed that he was complimenting her and assuring her of the most complete success of her small diversifications. CHAPTER XXIX Do you remember how, when you were small, you acquired from various unique but legitimate sources a collection of most treasured belongings and what difficulty you had in retaining possession of them? It was a running fight with the powers of the household who strangely enough did not seem to envy you, your belongings, but appeared obsessed by a desire to cast them out. Collections differ, and those of sons surpass in extent and gruesomeness those of daughters. Yet it is perhaps quite fair to assume that the treasures of both include such things as dried autumn leaves faded now, but capable of a transitory brightness if licked on the right side, queer buttons of engaging shape and colors, chippings of rocks gathered from around new residences and showing gleams of pyrites which the owner feels certain are gold, some bits of colored glass, and a few large fungi which develop peculiar and uncanny odours indoors. Do you remember when you possessed such treasures and fought for them? From such situations come some of the keenest heart aches of childhood and some of the least comprehended. One of the unfortunate features of the whole business is the faculty with which the average mother forgets or underestimates the child's interest in his treasures when it comes into conflict with her adult passion for system and order. There is no denying, however, that there is a trait to which our acquired abilities as housekeepers must defer if we would avoid the breeding of secret bitterness. We must endure this developing phase of the acquisitive instinct in our children as our parents should have endured it in us. We must endure it, but that is no reason why we should not guide its various manifestations. It should be another occasion for cooperation rather than for conflict. There must be some place provided where collections may be kept and where as long as they are within bounds and tidally bestowed, they are absolutely safe from molestation by even the most diligent housekeeper. During spring cleaning that annual period known but too well in most households, when every day energy develops into a veritable berserker rage for clearing out. Permit your child the use of an old bureau, a set of bookshelves, curtained discreetly, contained, or even let him improvise one from odds and ends of lumber which can be put up somewhere about the place for the use of the young curator. Utilize rainy days, or those during which he is kept in by slight illness, for having him rearrange, clean, and label his belongings, and if he is old enough to read independently, help him read up a bit in the encyclopedia or in the more practical little reference books now printed for amateurs. The chances are that he will outgrow these youthful enthousiasms quite as his seniors do their fads, but there is always a possibility that in geology, entomology, botany, or whatnot, he will find the beginning of a lifelong avocation, if not his vocation itself. If we desire a children to respect our property, we must respect theirs, no matter how valueless it may seem to us. It is part of our job to do so. We should not like it, you know, if we returned tired and hungry some late afternoon to find our repositories ransacked, and their contents sent to the dump heap. It is conceivable that, under such circumstances, we might become petulant and indulge in recriminations if not reprisals. It is much better to permit the children to do their own weeding out, and here is a practical suggestion. Always have them select one by one the articles which are to be kept, not those which are to be thrown away. Such tasks are apt to become irksome, and it is all a question of method, whether the unhandled residue is to stay or to go. In some households there is a satisfactory rule that any plaything left lying around at bedtime shall be put away by the mother for a whole week. A dated slip is attached to avoid error, and there are no exceptions made to this rule. This is a very mild penalty, but the inevitability is what makes it effective. Another helpful method is good when children must play, as most of them do, in the room where others are. Establish the custom, that when a child is through playing with a certain article he shall replace it on his shelves or in his chest before taking out another. This is a tidy way of managing any habit which once established will be of use to him in later life. It is much better than having clearings up every few hours when father is about to arrive for a meal or when a caller comes. The idea back of it is so much superior. It is order for order's sake and not merely for the sake of impressing others. It is a much more self-respecting method. The other may strike a child as hypocritical, even though it has never occurred to his parents as being so. Where there are many children it is naturally much more difficult to fix the responsibility for order. The best one can do is to encourage high ideals and be sure to compliment the ones who do well. Government by well-chosen praise often accomplishes wonders, and if a compliment goes astray it is not so serious as a misdirected reproof. One source of friction among children is mixed ownership of playthings. It is always well to remember this when making gifts. One gift each for Edward and Charles is infinitely better than two bestowed upon them jointly. And when they are old enough to earn money and invest it in tools or playthings, it will forestall much trouble if there is a rule against partnership investments. This might better be enforced from the start, even in cases where it seems to work hardship by delaying the purchase. Even if two small partners are by nature equally careful, and they seldom are, there are always accidents and mischances to be reckoned on. There is a small end to every problem, and what appears at first glance to be his picking up his playthings is in reality the beginning of respect for property. His own and that of others, you know the wave who has nothing of his own cannot understand property rights, and vandalism and larceny do not mean to him what they do to us. Give him something to own and cherish, and the word theft begins to acquire meaning for him. The human derelict, taken in by a social worker and permitted to sleep in his shed after receiving an outfit of second-hand clothing, lay awake most of the night after discovering that the lock on the outside door was on the bum, to have no individual ownership predisposes to Bolshevism and the undesirable forms of socialism. To own even a handful of toys begets an understanding of the capitalistic class, but it need not harden the heart. Along with the joy of possession must go the feeling of responsibility, of stewardship. To have playthings is to be able to share. If a playmate is shut in with a sprained ankle or any other disability, which is obviously non-communicable, it is easy to suggest lending him an interesting book or toy for the afternoon when all the other fellows will be in school, and he will be lonely. To have toys which have become old stories to their possessor is to have the chance to clean and mend them for bestowal on some little unfortunate who has none, an occupation in which thrift and generosity may beautifully blend, and when you come to think about it there are comparatively few occupations in which they do. As to the character of a child's personal possessions, they should be substantial and in good taste always, whether they are toys or clothing, and there should not be too many of them. If gifts come in a flood as they sometimes do, it is better to put a part of them away after the first mad escacy of ownership is passed, and then to bring them out for special occasions or when the first relay have to be retired. There is no pleasure in satiety. Certain toys should always be taboo, of course, those which are too intricate or too perishable, those which cost too much to maintain in operation, as for instance some locomotives which require too many cell batteries for the parental purse, military toys, and nerve-wracking puzzles. There are enough good toys on the market to make it quite needless to buy objectionable ones. Small copies of household working equipment should always be included with what are merely playthings. A little broom carefully wielded may save a busy mother much looking after the hearth, the porches, or even the crumbs on the dining room floor. If a small dustpan accompanies it, and a tiny iron may soon be used to advantage on the day when the family ironing is done, it is educational fun, and that is the best kind. No life is satisfactory, which does not find pleasure in work, and no childhood is satisfactory, which does not place work among the pleasures. We live in a material world. We do not wish to be too materialistic, so we must begin early to have the right attitude towards these things which Emerson declared were in the saddle riding mankind. To hold our possessions carefully, but not too tightly, to acquire more honorably, to share them wisely and generously, in short, to be good stewards, is an ideal, well worth securing by the expenditure of both time and thought. CHAPTER XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX and injury of their children, it would be much pleasanter for us to accept with becoming modesty and deprecation the tributes of authors and friends and indulge in a little surreptitious conceit. But only truth ever avails anything in the end, and an unpleasant truth is a much safer companion than a pleasant untruth. The central idea of sacrifice is the destroying or giving up of something for the sake of something else, and if we cling to the definition and force ourselves to do a bit of clear thinking in regard to it, we may learn something. Let us always make sure what that something else is for which we deny ourselves. If we do this, we are apt to make some astonishing discoveries, there is no more appealing and pathetic glimpse of motherhood than that suggested by the weary women in the background of Luke Fields' picture, The Doctor. We who have watched night after night with sick children while other members of the family slept sweetly in their comfortable beds, because they must work on the morrow and beware there was no hope of snatching a compensating nap. No self-sacrifice, pure and simple. In such service we give all for the children's health, yet there was a mother whose twelve-year-old son had a penchant for green apples. With the result that year after year she had had campaigns of wakefulness and concern on his account, when her broken nights had to be followed by busy days, while the little sinner remained home from school and dozed through a luxurious convalescence. Then she came to her senses. For what was she sacrificing herself? The lad would indulge in forbidden fruit again as soon as the memory of his pain should become slightly dulled. So she turned over a new leaf. My son, she said, it is not fair that I should be disturbed by illness caused by your disobedience. After this, when your foolish eating makes you ill, I shall expect to sleep on undisturbed. If you think heat would lessen your pain, you can start a fire in the kitchen, heat your water, and fill your own hot water bag. But you must be very quiet about it, so as not to awaken anyone else. He had won such solitary night of suffering as she had foreseen. She chanced to awaken and heard him stealing softly about, but she kept still, and when morning came merely remarked that he had managed very well and did not modify the effect of her ruling by undue sympathy or praise. Neither did she permit him to remain away from school. He was always able to resist the seductions of green apples after that. She had been stepping in between cause and effect, in helping him combat the pain which he so richly deserved to suffer. She had not been doing her real duty. She had been mistaken in her conception of duty, and during that wakeful night when she lay still, she found that her knights of nursing had really been the easier. Her true sacrifice came in letting him suffer alone. Sometimes we say, I have not been a selfish mother. I have gone without new things many times myself just so that my daughters could have the latest styles and hats and other dainties, like the girls whose parents are wealthier than we. It seems as though young girls want everything nowadays. Is that self-sacrifice or is it unrecognized self-indulgence? May it not be a mixture of pride in seeing the girls take their place in a class where they do not really belong, and a wish to avoid scenes which would ensue if they were denied. When we get right down to the last analysis, mothers have no right to dress their children beyond their station in life. To do so is to lay the foundation for future trouble for both them and their parents. They are very peculiar young people who do not have their period of conceit, their time of thinking they know better than their parents during the teenage. In some cases it is frankly outspoken, in others it is merely the undercurrent which makes smooth sailing difficult. Even those who have been most amiable to reasonable guidance may decide that they know better than their seniors how to shape their lives. Of course the opinion does not prove the case, but if, in the years when they were smaller, they found it possible to carry their point against the better judgment of their parents, the years of adolescence become doubly difficult and dangerous. If it is not checked at the outset, the tendency to bring up their parents is apt to become almost unbearable, better to meet it with smiling frankness as did one little woman the morning after her son had been given her numerous pointers on dress, deportment, and personal affairs in general. She listened without comment, while his youthful annoyance spent itself and merely said, well, I will think this over. The next day after breakfast, when a night's sleep in a good meal had presumably restored her son's poise, she said, now my son, I have been considering the matters you were speaking about last evening. I have considered them quite thoroughly. I have decided that it will relieve your mind greatly if you do not have to feel yourself responsible for re-educating your mother. I was educated once when I was young, you know, and although I am still conscious of imperfections which I try to remedy, I have made a very fair success of life so far. I have a satisfactory social position and many very loyal friends. So far as I know, I have never been severely criticized or regarded with disapproval by the people outside the home. I have been successful as a self-supporting woman and as a homemaker. I am no longer to be considered an experiment. Of course, I appreciate your interest in me, but, and here she smiled mischievously, I think I do not need your tuition or criticism. If you feel like forming somebody's character along ideal lines, I suggest you try a sixteen-year-old, somebody who has not yet proved himself. The sixteen-year-old, before her, looked bewildered, indignant, and was just about to settle into sulkiness when that twinkling smile appealed to his sense of humor. He smiled both laughed. There was a hearty shaking of hands as the little mother extended hers, and then she ran away before there was a chance for the perfect moment to pass. The boy might not have had the sense of humor. He might have sulked for days. What if he had? He would have recovered ultimately if his mother had ignored his sulkiness and gone serenely about her own affairs, and the tendency to criticize would have been checked. It would have been worthwhile. Tired mothers, weak mothers, ignorant and misguided mothers, shrink from the conflict of wills with their children even when they know themselves to be absolutely in the right. It is not self-sacrifice, but self-indulgence, and they pay dearly for it in the end. Their children pay for it also, and more dearly than their mothers, because in their case it is character in the formative period which suffers. They do not love their parents any more dearly for such weakness, and they do not respect them so much. There will always be ample chance for the real, beautiful, consecrated self-sacrifice of which poets sing. We need to watch ourselves, and guard against its dangerous counterfeit. Even if that watchfulness costs us some bad quarter-hours which may be misunderstood for a while, the outcome will be happiness and peace. CHAPTER XXXI To the effect that all just governments derive their powers from the consent of the governed. It is not customary to think of this as applicable to the control of children by their parents, but it might well be. To impose control upon an unwilling populace is to court trouble, whether that populace be composed of millions or of hundreds, and the same principle holds true even in case the populace has dwindled to one. This is not meant to imply that individual prohibitions, shuttings up, or even the possible spanking of a child too young to be amenable to reason, must be vis-à-é at the time by the culprit. Naturally not. It does not mean that parents should so establish themselves in the esteem of their children as to be able, with confidence, to appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober. Without possessing the respect and confidence of children in their sober moments, no parents can govern and guide to good effect. It is true that they must suppress quite successfully, and that, for the time being, this may pass for that, sometimes commented on wonderful control, but the test comes when, for one reason or another, suppression is impossible. Then the fallacy of it all is revealed. In one of the large training schools of our country, where there was much practice teaching by students, they were warned not to be unduly elated if, for the first three days after assuming charge of a group of young pupils, everything moved along in perfect order. That the training teacher was want to say implies that your predecessor was a success, and it is on the fourth day that her influence will be weakening and your own put to the test. No teacher is a success whose pupils will not go on well for at least a few days in her absence. The same might well be said of parents. Suppressing of disorder and naughtiness may be far better than letting children run wild, but it is certainly far inferior to inspiring them with affection and high ideals which shall serve to hold them true when their parents are absent. Under these circumstances it becomes vitally important that our children shall think well of us, that we shall stand guiltless before the bar of their judgment. What do they think of us anyhow? They see us behind the scenes as well as before the footlights of life stage. Make up will not deceive them. We shall not count for anything more than we are. Of that you may be sure. We may, if we do not give thought to it, count for much less than we are, because we underestimate their capacity for appreciation and keep shut away from them such treasures of manner, thought, and spirituality as we gladly share with our social equals. If there is one place in the universe where we should most gladly give our best, it is at home. There is no other place where the obligation is so great, nor is there one which can bestow so sweet an ultimate reward. If we do our best we shall often fall far short of being what we desire, but our children are quick to recognize and appreciate honest effort, so we shall not have utterly failed after all. It is not only in the larger aspects of life that we win prestige with our children little things count tremendously, and life is composed of the greater part of trifles. We may be admired for our morals, as Emerson said, but we are loved for our manners. Our boys and girls are much swayed naturally by the judgment of those associates who are their peers in the matter of age and experience, and so for expediency if for no better reason We should enlarge our charmed circle once in a while to take in the playmates and school friends among whom so much of their time is passed. We must know as much as possible of the character of our children's associates, and it is very wise to win their good opinion of us. It gives the lad's respect for his mother a tremendous brace when his companion says to him, Gee, but your mother knows a lot. If your beauty-loving little daughter brings some playmates into the kitchen when you are taking a pan of cookies from the oven, and it is remarkable how often these two happenings coincide, her admiration for you is sure to rise if a companion remarks later between mouthfuls, your mother always looks pretty, doesn't she? I wish that mine would wear pink aprons in the kitchen, afterward when you have to make some ruling which bears down upon the crowd of children who are romping about the place, and your own feel that it is inhospitable or maybe unpopular, the boy who respected your intelligence and the girl who admired your apron are sure to sustain your judgment. It may be only with a rough, aw, come on, your mother's all right, but it carries much weight. Wise parents encourage their children to play at home, even though it means, as it frequently does, keeping open house for a flock of small neighbors. This gives an opportunity for a quiet estimation of their desirability, and it also gives an observant mother a chance to get a very useful consensus of opinion about teachers, absent playfellows, and other matters concerning child welfare. Many an invaluable suggestion floats up to a mother whose soes inside an open window when her children are playing outside. Those who rear children must learn to plan far ahead, to be ready for many contingencies which may never arise. Somebody is going to provide the standards for the little coterie to which your children belong, that somebody may or may not be the right sort of person. It cannot be anyone who will have their best interests more at heart than you. Why should you not be the person? Why should you not be so respected and loved by those who have become youths and maidens, that they will accept your standards as quickly as those of others? Life has given you the ascendancy in the first place by giving you the plastic years of your children's lives most intimately and exclusively. It remains with you yourself whether you will retain it, and if you retain it, how you will use it. There is nothing reprehensible in longing to win as much prestige as possible among the young people. It is much more worthwhile than any which can be won in the world of society, and it will be much more lasting. If permitting other small boys to corral their mud turtles along with those of your own lad in your backyard gives you a hold on those boys, try to take the turtles in. If permitting attic parties to thunder over your head on rainy days furnishes safe and wholesome diversion for the crowd, why limit the hours as discreetly as possible? Plug your ears with cotton and welcome the parties. One elderly mother in talking to her middle-aged daughter said, I never knew why I succeeded so much better than my friends in keeping my child's confidence during the teenage. And the reply came like a flash. Because you always chummed with me before that age. And it is true that it is much easier and safer to keep the child's respect, love and confidence than it is to be indifferent or preoccupied for a while and then try to win it back. Loving our own children should make all children dearer to us, a certain big attic which had witnessed all sorts of youthful stunts from boxing matches and ten pins to bicycle races and had harbored twenty-eight boys with more or less regularity on the rainy days of a decade or so, is enshrined in their memories as a sort of youthful paradise. One of the visiting boys recently paid his respects to the hospitable mother who had welcomed him along with the rest and chuckled over some of the reminiscences which they revived. Then he sobered and added, I want to tell you how the memories of those days helped me last year. I was farming you know, and my wife was terribly sick for six weeks in my busiest season. We were too poor to hire the help we needed and I had to work all day in the fields and then relieve the nurse at night. I got only two hours of unbroken sleep in each twenty-four and some naps when my wife was dozing. I don't see now how I live through it. Well there were times when it seemed to me that I should break down utterly and then I used to pretend I was back in your attic for a while playing with the other fellows. I'd count them over and repeat their nicknames and I'd recall the games we used to play. It was the doctor and the nurse that pulled my wife through but I guess it was your big attic that saved me. They sat moist-eyed for a minute and then he added, I shouldn't wonder if those rainy days were pretty tough on you though. CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 of Living With Our Children by Clare D. Pearson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The presence of God. Some of us have grown up to motherhood with the comforting sense of the presence of God and a consciousness of his care for us. And some of us have missed that sweet and strengthening influence in our lives. And it is doubtful whether there was ever a mother who, looking down on the beloved little one at her breast, did not feel a deep desire to be her very best and finest for the sake of the child who had been given her to rear. He makes one very humble to realize that she must, for a long time, be the found from which he draws the nourishment for his mind and his soul. As well as for his body. It is true that in many cases the feeling of odd responsibility passes as the other cares of life press and crowd upon the mother. Perhaps it does not so much pass as become dormant for a time. But however that may be, there is nothing like motherhood to give us a glimpse of the way in which God watches his children on earth. One of whom, the sense of God's presence has always been a vital thing wonders how other mothers dare hope to achieve the needed strength, vision, and patience without it. Yet such is the force of lifelong habit that many do, for a while at least. After the first wonder passes and life for the newcomer seems to be merely a matter of food, rest, cleanliness, and warmth, proficiency in supplying these bigots self-confidence and the custom of living in the present only. It is when the child is old enough to ask questions that a new element enters in and certain decisions are forced upon the most worldly of mothers. You know what some of the questions are sure to be. Mama, who is God? Did he make me? Where does he live? Why do people say prayers to him? Do you say prayers to him? Why do the people at Edna's house say a little prayer always before they eat at the table? Why don't we do that? Doesn't he want us to do it too? Why don't I go to Sunday school every Sunday, et cetera, et cetera? You see how these decisions are forced, and such is the power of tradition alone quite apart from religious conviction, that many a mother who has never known what it is to walk by faith is careful to teach her children a short bedtime prayer, even if she goes no farther. Then there arises a peculiar situation. For how is one who has no faith to lead her trusting child to fellowship with one whom he longs to know better than she has known him? It is written in the Bible that a little child shall lead them. And perhaps one way in which the child does this is by asking to be led himself. We all want the best for our children. We want them to be better than we have been. We hope that they will never discover that we are faulty. Perhaps we had been carefully started right, but have taken the lower turn of the road once in a while. We want, oh, how we want to spare them such experiences. We have tried to ensure their uprightness by telling them in one way or another that they must always do the right thing, and that it is very naughty to be bad, and that children who do wrong always get caught at it in the end, as though a carefully cultivated sense of expectancy would ever hold young people to their moorings, when the dark tides of restlessness, covetness, and passion sweep strongly down upon them. The child who is most carefully reared in the nurture and admonition of the Lord may stray far from the fold for a time, but he will not be happy in the ways of sin, and he has something to return to for security. The man who is at the head of a chain of fifty-odd missions in this country, and who has known what it is to raise himself, with God's aid, from the life of a common drunkard to a position of respect, influence, and consecrated power, says, When a down and outer comes to us, we clean him up, feed him, see that he gets a good night's sleep, and then we get his history. If we find that he had religious training as a child, we know that we can save him. If not, well, we do the best we can, but we may succeed, and we may not. This little volume is not sent out as a religious publication. It is intended merely as a series of practical little essays which mothers may care to peruse from time to time when perhaps they feel like taking counsel with an older woman who has many times met the same problems which now confront them. The older woman in this case makes no apology for introducing the subject of religion, even to one who might prefer not to discuss it. There is this advantage to seeing these things on the printed page, that if the reader is displeased, she can straight away lay down the book without violating any code of good manners, but the reader will not leave this short essay unread. If she lays it down, she will take it up again, because she loves her child, and wishes to do her best by him. She may do well by him, may sacrifice herself to the utmost, but she cannot do her best if she leaves God out of the reckoning. If she does not feel that she can lead where she is unaccustomed to go, then she and her child must learn the way together. It will be a sweet experience for them both. Children's prayers must be comprehensible to the children, else they become but vain repetitions. There are some objections to always using the same prayer, unless that prayer has so grown out of the child's own needs and desires as to mean a great deal to him. A prayer that has been slowly and carefully framed by the child and his mother may be used year after year without becoming trite. With such a prayer there is always the possibility of adding to it as new needs develop, unorthodox, as it may seem to say so. The time honoured, now I lay me down to sleep, is not so well adapted in its thought as in the length of its words to the needs of a child. If you will analyse the thought, you will realise this, and it seems a pity to use it because previous generations have done so, if the use means robbing the child's sweetly solemn bedtime hour of its deepest significance. Here's the story of one prayer, framed years ago by a mother and her two sons of six and eight who had been accustomed to simple, extemporaneous prayers each night. The boy suddenly decided that they would like a prayer that sounded like poetry, but would be their very own poetry. So their mother promised to help them, but said that before they wrote it out they must think carefully about it, and be sure just what things they should pray for. So for at least a fortnight there were tablets and paper kept in the boy's room, and each night as they discussed the experiences of the day and saw where they had failed, or talked over the coming night and day and realised their needs. The mother made notes for later use. Before she cast them into verse, they went over the notes together, and found where half a dozen or so faults were all the result of want of thought, or several others came from lack of courage. So by skillful and well considered generalising, it became possible to condense. One boy, to whom the imagery of the shepherd's psalm had come to mean a great deal, asked that there should be something about a shepherd in the prayer. And after it was written and in use, one of the boys asked that something in regard to truthfulness of word and action should be added to it for his special benefit. He feeling that the mere allusion to evil speech, which was already there, was hardly adequate. It was then that the fourth stanza was written and inserted. In order to vary the repetition slightly, and guard against it becoming mechanical, it was sometimes repeated entire by mother and sons together, and sometimes one or the other repeated the first three lines of each stanza, while the others united in the fourth, somewhat after the manner of a litany. This is the prayer, dear Lord of earth and starlit sky, we thank thee thou art ever nigh, to hear us as we humbly cry, to thee to keep thy children. We thank thee for our days so blessed, we thank thee for the coming rest. As tired lambs on their shepherd's breast, now take thy little children. Forgive us for the wrong we wrought, for evil speech and want of thought. O grant to us the pardon sought, dear Lord, forgive thy children. Teach thou our lips to speak thy praise, and truthful words throughout our days. May we be honest in our ways, O strength in thou thy children. Guard us all through the darkening night, and when we waken in the light, help us be brave to do the right, O strength in thou thy children. Another prayer was compiled from scripture verses by the mother of the little lad who objected to using the Lord's prayer, because it did not have the meaning for him that he felt he wanted. We adults seldom realize how difficult of comprehension the language of our own most treasured prayer is for children. Perhaps they lose something of its simple grandeur and dignity by having to translate it into their own vocabulary when they learn it too young. You will note that a similar difficulty in regard to the two great commandments of our law has been met in the following prayer by dropping the phraseology while retaining the thought. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Keep the door of my lips, help me to love God and my fellow men, and to do unto others as I would, that they should do unto me. Clear thou me from hidden faults. Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O God, my strength and my redeemer. This prayer has more dignity than the preceding one. It would be less quickly outgrown. In fact, it need never be outgrown, and one can easily imagine how, in the crisis of afterlife, it would rise simply and naturally to the lips in either private or public prayer. Any prayer which is a vital part of the child's thought and life is bound to recur to him in later years, though if it is in the form of simple verses, it may never be spoken before others. It is a comforting thought that, when we are not nearer to aid them with our spoken faith and counsel, we may yet strengthen our children in their hours of trial as they recall the prayers which we have offered with them to the God who is our stay as well as theirs. CHAPTER XXXIII. There is a period in the lives of most mothers during which they are usually considered to be most fortunate and to be congratulated, and yet when they are secretly miserable. It is when the last child has left the home and is either married or well-launched on a successful business career. Then when the happy fruition of all her years of loving care and anxiety has come, she suddenly feels purposeless, useless, unneeded, she is tired, and so the world seems a bit less cheerful on that account. She has to readjust her life altogether. If she has a devoted husband with a fair amount of leisure, they may renew their youth and travel, making an Indian summer place-bell of the opportunity and then settling down to an elderly Darby and Jones sort of existence. If she is a widow, she has no such refuge. When Andrew Carnegie uttered his wise remark concerning men who had much to retire on but nothing to retire to, he stated a truth which applies equally well to women, who find themselves suddenly possessed of unwanted leisure. The pathetic thing about this condition of affairs is that women of this age have had so much of developing experience that they are most valuable assets to their communities. If they can only tide over the period of loneliness and depression, one of the best parts of their lives lies ahead. In the olden days a woman of forty wore caps, mumbled her food, read through unsightly and imperfectly fitted glasses, and generally led a chimney-corner existence. And now as a dear old foreign woman said, it is quite other again. These are everywhere, about, for useful and happy service. Eyesight, hearing, and general health should be equal to many demands, and thanks to the women's movement more and more women are availing themselves of them, many, but not all. The trouble with most of us is that we do not foresee the contingency. We are of necessity so concerned with daily cares that small margin is left for considering our own future, unless it be in the imperative matter of financial security. That is not often overlooked. There is a difference, however, between making a living and making a life, and it is better to consider both. And there is usually some margin of time for thinking, even if there is none for reading. Of the two thinking is much the more important, you know. Herbert Spencer used to say that he had never read much, but that he had thought a great deal. The learned blacksmith Barrett, who mastered so many languages while working his bellows beside the forge, did not have to answer questions from his children while there. The odds are still in favour of the men in some matters regarding which no amount of legislation will ever avail. The odds are equally in favour of the women in others. It is better to count our mercies and avail ourselves of them. There are other things than languages, which are a means of growth, and one tongue is enough for a woman in most cases. It is, to a great extent, a question of management. Women need applications as much as other people. The great question is the finding of suitable ones and the opportunity to pursue them. One extremely busy woman faced the fact that she was loosing her ability as a pianist, acquired under fine tuition before her marriage, and she felt that such waste was wrong. She considered her days carefully, and resolved to take twenty minutes immediately after breakfast for her piano. She felt that there might be days when she could afford more, but that much she would have, and she would have it early enough in the day to make the most of it. And when there were still hours enough remaining in which she could speed up, if necessary, to atone for the time taken. She succeeded, and when her home cares began to lessen, she became known as the finest accompanist in the large city where she dwelt. Always being a solo player of no mean ability. Another woman, a writer, secured the morning time so imperative for the best brainwork by rising at four and having two fresh and uninterrupted hours to herself before the family were a stir. Then the desk was closed for the day, and she became a simple homemaker. Her lost sleep was compensated for by a slightly earlier bedtime, and a good nap when the man of the house was downtown, and the older housekeepers were also napping and before the school children returned from the afternoon session. This could hardly have been kept up the year round, but it answered very well for weeks at a time when a long manuscript was under way. She was successful, and the money earned enriched life for her and her family, yet perhaps the money was the less important part of what she won. One woman, who had always longed for and never had a chance to do laboratory work in biology arranged for one day a week away from home for a few months, leaving after the children were in school and returning in time to have her supper at home, while an elderly woman took her place as housemother most efficiently. She spent these days in a nearby small college working with a student tutor to get a significant start in biology to continue intelligently at home. There is practically always a way in which to manage an application if one cares enough about doing it. Of course we must pay for the privilege in some way, but who begrudges paying for a valuable and coveted possession. We may pay in fatigue of one sort, only to be reimbursed by the rest of a mental charge. We may have to expend a little money, which was formally spent on far less important luxuries. We may have to create the time by simplifying or systemizing our work. All of it. We shall eventually be of more value to ourselves, our families, and our communities if we choose our application discreetly and pursue it moderately. There is small danger of our letting our applications crowd the children aside. Mothers are not apt to do that, but part of the compact that a woman makes with herself at the outset should be to guard against this happening. To be a perfect mother to growing children does not necessarily imply being with them or engaged in manual labour for them all the time. An expert Sunday school worker used to say that he never yet found an ideal superintendent who spent 52 Sundays a year in his own school. The man who did that lacked vision. He never had the chance to see how the other man did it, and he became a routine worker. The children must always be the first interest of all of us, but they should never be the exclusive one. If we have to give thought to the future income, we must choose an application which when mastered may be made a source of revenue. There are many such, and the time to do our experimenting in a small way and to make preparation generally is before the present income dwindles or before the expenditures expand under the requirements of educational and other expense for our families. Sometimes the mother's application is one in which her children can participate like poultry raising, wood carving or beekeeping. Sometimes it is an accomplishment which enriches the home life. Sometimes it is systematic reading and study which makes the student more interesting and valuable to all with whom she comes in contact. The great thing is to choose wisely and as early as possible and then to work steadily even though slowly towards the chosen end. The woman who does this finds herself with a compensation ready when her fledglings leave the nest. She has kept her faculties alert. She has won some proficiency in her chosen field, and she knows precisely where she can most profitably expend the new leisure which is hers. After all, no matter how dear our children may be, how devoted our husbands, how delightful our friends, every woman must face the fact that life is a succession of readjustments and shiftings, and that she has only one companion ever with her from the cradle to the grave—herself. She must have resources within herself which will keep her busy, contented and purposeful, regardless of the inevitable changes around her. No matter how lavishly or joyously she gives herself to others, she must keep her principal unimpaired while she expends the interest. Perhaps there will be a day of bankruptcy and reckoning involving others as well as herself. If, in time of emergency, she has to borrow from the principal by spending to the utmost of strength and ability for the home, she must ultimately and as soon as possible pay it back to herself also for the sake of the home, this is consecrated good sense and requires no apology. CHAPTER XXXIV Interpreting Life How one's problems do grow with the children? It seems quite overwhelming when one first has the responsibility of bathing the baby. There is the anxious concern, as to the temperature of the room and the water, the apprehension as to—well, call it technique. The unspoken feeling that all that rose-leaf skin, those exquisitely molded little limbs, are too fragile, safely to endure the ministrations of an inexperienced young mother. And where, aware, did the tiny vest vanish to, when the mystery of the bath is quite mastered and has become comfortable matter-course, although still delightful, the feeling of having arrived is soon dispelled by some new contingency, and the mother again finds herself a novice. The proper care of a little body is soon associated with the care of the unfolding mind, and that with the care of the child's soul. Teachers come and teachers go, but the parents are the most constant and intimate companions of the small pupil, and even if they take no hand in the engrossing perplexities of the three Rs, theirs is still the major part of the early education. There is so much of prime importance to be learned outside of books. If this strikes you as too sweeping a statement, just reflect for a moment on the healthful and independent lives led by millions who have never conned a book. Such a life as that would satisfy neither the reader nor the writer of this volume, yet it satisfies those who live it, and it is a life. There would be no life whatever if people knew only what is taught in our schools, excellent as those schools may be, and extensive as the curricula have become in many places. It is such reflections as these which help us to appreciate the importance of the work we do in bringing up our children and to feel it worthwhile. And then there are so many other things to learn besides those which are essential to the maintenance of life and health. There are the interesting things, those which, while we are considering food for thought, may well be mentioned as the jam upon our bread. It is worthwhile to introduce our children early to the beautiful and fascinating, even if quite amateur, study and observation of nature and art. Nature should rank first, partly because it is the foundation of all art, partly because it is more universal in its appeal, and partly, one may as well admit, because no man owns the landscape, and rich and poor may grow wise alike in the great university of out-of-doors, where the only tuition fee extracted is the time which the student must give. If such studies were but accomplishments they would still be worthwhile as such to all but those of city slums who seemed doomed to spend their weary lives on pavements and between brick walls, but they are far more than accomplishments. They are prophylactics for both mind and body. Mrs. Wiggins' jade-slokum was quite right in deploring the ignorance of those city wastes who had strayed to his farm home. When he said, ignorance of them children is something terrible. They don't know Sopri-Ellum nor where the birds put up when it comes night. The way them children's education has been left be is a burden shame in a Christian country. Minister Priest and Rabbi have their part to play in the developments of the young soul, yet long before their formal instruction in things spiritual can begin, the child is kneeling beside his mother or father, or better still, with his mother and father, to list his short prayer of praise and petition. It is the parents who must take the child to church, who are his sponsors in baptism, and who must answer, as best they can, his first wondering questions as to the making of the world and the ordering of its life. If we realized all this at the outset, should we dare to assume these sweet and extracting duties? Are we ever equipped at the outset to do so? No, twice no, but we learn to do by doing. If ever this student had a worthy incentive to consecrated effort, it is the parent, and we learn as we lead. He was right, who wrote, how strange it is, that our strongest instincts lead us to our most rigorous training. There is no education like it. We receive as much as we give in this blessed relationship of parent and child. We wax strong in patience, sympathy, and a hundred other virtues, large and small, even though we fail and stumble and fall to rise again. We have to rise, for is not our child expecting us to? Here's it is to interpret life for the children whom we have given to us. We begin with life as we have known it, young, inexperienced, careless, as we may be, our thought vocabularies equal to only the simplest translations, and we find, from time to time, that we are not properly equipped for our work. We must study to keep ahead of our charges, and often, very often, if we would not lead astray, we must humbly and earnestly consult the great authority. So as the busy, anxious, happy years pass, our children grow in strength, and in wisdom under our leadership, but who can say how much we learn from them, for them, and with them? The End End of Living with Our Children A Book of Little Essays for Mothers by Clara Dillingham Pearson