The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 10, 1904, Page 6

, THE SAN FR ANCISCO SUNDAY: CALL. [ HAKESPEARE makes Rosalind bid Phoebe “go down on her knees and thank heaven fasting for a good man's love.” I think it would be equally right to perform this act of gratitude for the joyful priv- ilege of being an American woman in England, for she becomes a member of a privileged class. It is very mice to be a woman any- where, provided she have some pretti- ness, some youth and some money—or the brains to get it. It is particularly ni to be an American woman in America; but I am inclined to think that the bonne bouche is to be an American woman in Englend. There are seyeral cogent reasons for @8 many reasons as there are and grades of such women—but the principal reason lies like 2 nut ina shell. It is the fact just asserted, that the American woman in England be- comes & member of a privileged clgss. Indeed, she has created the class and the privilege. As to the class to which she belonged before she left the States, that is a comparatively irrelevant matter, since the status she is to take in her adopted country depends upon herself, and upon luck—the latter being a separate part of her own individuality. These are but statements; they re- main to be proved, so let us “come to Hecube,” Hecuba being, for the sake of convenience at the moment, a young American woman, with charm, clever- ness and independence of character; with the other sort we have nothing to do In this article. As an American such a daughter of misfortune is an accident of nature, not a type, gnd she had bet- ter stop safely at home, since she can expect to command success nowhere. Our charming and clever young woman who is, we will say, of age, re- flects upom her future. She can have a very “good time” in her dwn country, where men are wise enough to take women more seriously than in less mod- ern lands; but in the States she will at best be one girl among millions of others, more or less like herself. She will e to conform to the habits and customs of the society in which she has been placed by Providence, or else é\ essot0OS she will be misunderstood by strangers and apologized for by her friends; whereas, if she elect to try “pastures new” in England, she can become a law unto herself. In the States she has lived, perhaps, in a circle whose ideas of conventional propriety have been molded upon Eng- lish rules, for in certain Anglo-maniac sets in American towns it is a social sin to do anythig not done “on the other side.” It is raining in London. Ladies, instantly put up your umbrellas! Men, make haste and turn up your trousers! But to escape this bogdage the maiden who revolts has only to pack her boxes and take passage on an ocean liner for Merrie England. She, being a Ameri- can girl, will find herself emancipated there, because dear, kind, indulgent English people know nothing whatever about thé rules of social etiquette which govern women in the States. They are not aware that in some States a young woman in soclety may never go out un- chaperoned, while in others chaperons are considered as superfluous as fur cloaks in July. They have accepted as correct the portraits of American girls, which they have seen in novels (mostly by English writers who have not sifted Eastern traditions from those of the West), and they would consider a young woman from the States uninteresting, rather than well brought up, if she never surprised or even shocked them a little. They expect her to be unex- pected, and if she is not they are dis- appointed. It is upon this convenient state of affairs thdt the clever young American woman trades, whether wholly con- sciously or haif unconsciously, in adopting England as her country. Our nice girl comes gaily over, with a friend of her own age, or even alone. She proceeds to do things which she would not dare to do at home, among her old friends who know her well, or in a strange American town where she wighes to collect new friends. She has “come over” armed with letters of introduction, but she does not need to ask herself, “Will these good people be horrified, and fight shy of me, if I take a flat, or live in an hotel without a chaperon?” She knows by instinct, if not by information, that at worst they will only say: “Dear me, how extraor- dinary! But, then, she 1s an American. They are all like that. It is sure to be quite proper.” Were she an English girl, a man meeting and admiring her—unless his “intentions were serious” from the first —would be afraid to make his admira- tion as evident as he might wish, lest he should be misunderstood or the girl sromised. But fortunately it is-a easy thing to compromise an can girl in England than an Eng- lish girl at home, or an American girl at home. She, and her actions, her comings and goings, are regarded from an entirely different point of view. ‘She is a kind of freak—albeit an agreeable freak— and she has a freak's privileges with- out its disadvantages. She can safely live up to this, and she soon finds it out by experience. In this way, if it is her whim to marry, she can often gath- er in opportunities which her English sister is obliged to miss. oAmericanWomanin & - BY Mrs C.N.WILLIAMSON. The man whose fancy is taken by her brightness and prettiness at first dares to go on enjoying her society, comfort- ably assured that he is not in honor bound by a few flowers, sweets, calls, bicycle rides, days on the river, and theater tickets. He ventures to become her friend, and before he dreams what is happening to him, he finds that he is willingly her lover. The opportunity for knowing the English girl as well as he knew the American, before he was sure she was worth loving, would not have been safe to grasp. Thus the American girl scores. If it is business, not love, in which she wishes to succeed, she scores also; for once an Englishman receives an im- pression it is as difficult to eradicate as if it were a scar. Somehow the “word has gone round” that an Ameri- can woman-journalist, an American actress, stenogranher, dancer, lecturer, reciter, manicurist or niature paint- er has a dash, a “go,” a je ne sais quoi, which her English sister lacks. This is probably a fallacy. Experi- ence and observation have given me a secret, sneaking conviction that it is undoubtedly a fallacy, and that the in- telligent English woman, though she may not display her goods as strikingly in the shov window, has as large and quite as valuable a stock on hand as the “smartest” American; but it is well for the latter that she has the cachet, and she wrongs no one, not even her rival, in ‘“cutely” making the most of it. All these arguments’ hold equally »good in the case of the American heir- ess who comes to see, to be seen and to conquer in a London season. Fortune has placed her higher on the social lad- der than the merely pretty, clever and charming young woman who visits England, either because she has no re- sponsibilities elsewhere, because she wishes to see the old world or because she has something to gain, something to fight for. She or her parents prob- ably began life in the same sphere from which the other has been recruited, but a sewing machine, a patent medicine, a tinned soup, a sleeping-car or a pe- troleum well has placed her on a gilded pedestal. A little of the flerce light which beats upon a throne must beat upon her there, and even though she be an American the bright surface of her un- conventionality will melt visibly In the blaze of glory. Nevertheless she can safely have a great deal more “fun” than the English heiress. She can be eccentric, and be thought merely orig- inal. She can be daring and know that she will be excused, because *“American girls are brought up differently from ours, poor things.” Suppose she marries an Englishman. ng/and_ Let us “begin at the top” and say that he is a duke. Now, some dukes who are ndescending enough to marry heiresses more lowly born than they consider that the ladies graciously se- lected should show their appreciation of the honor by conducting themseives in an unobtrusive, thoroughly domes- ticated, early Victorian manner; that the duchess’ first duty should be to present his Grace with an heir to the dukedom; her gecond to give the heir as many brothers as possible; her third to stop at home and play with the children in the nursery and preside over school feasts or present prizes. while the duke amuses himself in a right ducal manner. But no really thoughtful duke would ever hope in his t sanguine moments that.an Am n duchess would be satisfled with these pursuits and-no others less monotonous. If he were a wise person he would make up his mind before proposing that he was about to take for his wife a being as incomprehenst- ble as delightful. a being who must be indulged, amused and treated as an equal; that if he “tried any nonsense™ she would not be likely to stand It long. All this has truth in it, though It is said half in jest, and it is true also, without jesting, that a residence In England mellows and improves an American woman, if she has a recep- tive mind. 0dd books are written about Ameri- can girls by English novelists; books just as cdd are written about English girls by Americans, and young women in the States are as apt to belleve what they read as .those of Great Britain. They are perhaps a little less obstin- ately fixed in their impressions, that is all. An American girl has gleaned from story books penned by compatriots that her English sister can say v little to a man beyond ‘yes” and “no,” and that her pri charm (one apt to pall after frequent repetition) is blushing ke roses and m when looked at or spoken to by a member of the opposite sex. Consequently the American mald- en makes her voyage of discovery to the other side reat pond almost impudently certain that she will “sweep the board 11 before her. She is sure talk better a fascinating th it the latter chan-e to in beaut y gives he »ws more, can r more , even thougt manner, hardness may sparkle like the facets of a diamond She receives a hundred new impressions in a da things which unt {now have seemed dream-like, unreal t her, things which have made the his- tory of the world. In her quick interest she is inclined to forget that the people she meets in her adopted country have absorbed these impressions, strange to her, in her babyhood, and she goes about telling her English friends fact which they have been “born knowing." This gets on their nerves and they find the Yankee girl rather an frritating young parson. She does herself injus- tice by mistaking her own flippancy for wit; she tells too many anecdotes; she is altogether too “cock-sure” during the first few exciting months of life in England. But she is not really the hard, audacious crgature she sometimes appears. She has as good a heart; she is as innately modest as her English sister and can make as true a wife and mother; and as soon as her beautiful gld, old surroundings have begun to educate her soul, to mellow her too er- ratic intelligence, the best that is In her is brought out. She has learned much which all the books ever wriften could not have taught her so well. She is softened and refined without losing any of her energy and her originality; and when she has adjusted herself and the balance of things external the American woman in England becomes one of the most charming and success- fully “grafted products” in the garden of the world. WHERE AND HOW TO TRAIN YO | WHEN, LL life is & constant warfare. Thet of a child is especially so. ‘While developing conscience and embryonic reason strive for su- premacy, animal appetites and vpro- pensities tempt to utter ruin by offer- ing, In exchange, all the pleasures in the child’s heaven and earth. Whether the sweet babe shall develop into the murderous Herod or the saving Moses will be determined by the result of the conflict. What the result of the con- fiict shall be wiil depend largely upon the character of the training which the parents give their chiidren. To the child it means life or death—upon the one side a life of honor and beneficence, end a triumphant death; upon the other, a life of shame and misery, and en ignominious death. It is very important that those upon whom rests the responsibility of train- ing children should fully understand the significance of the word “train- ing.” That some who are following these articles do not is shown by many earnest letters. Many parents still believe it means teaching. Such is not the case. Primarily, teaching means the imparting of knowledge. Training implies, not merely the im- perting of knowledge, but also inspir- ing to repeat action, which results in the formation of habits. Teaching en- ables the child to make use of the knowledge he possesses. Teaching is very important. Training is far more important. Why teach many things if nothing is to be used? Children should not merely be taught to know what is right. It is not even sufficient 1o teach them to be good. They should be trained to be good for something, end to do right. Parents should ever be mindful of the fact that all will receive some kind of trajning. During almost every wakeful moment every child is being trained. Every sense reaches out after knowledge, all of which helps deter- mine his training. The great aim should be to sce to it that the train- ing is of the right The parent who expects to leave the training of a child untll 8 later period will find, when the time arrives, that his training has already become ef- fective. Then will be necessary the arduous task of lifting him out of the ruts of improper training that he may be helped along on the smoother road. Happy the parent who can overcome the constant tendency to return to the old ruts. As before indicated, one great mis- take many parents make is, that they do not bLegin the training of children as early as they should. In answer to the question as to why a mother per- mitted 2 certain action, she replied, as most mothers would have replied under the same circumstances, “Why, he’s only a baby.” How often we have all heard similar answers given by conscientious parents who do not fully appreciate the fact that, months after the child should have been trained to do differently, they bave encour- aged the growth of the most vicious habits, from the bonds of which he can break with difficulty, if at all. Though it is hoped they are not many, yet there are some parents who are disposed to nut off the training of a child until they send him to school. This is done, either because of the be- lief that the young child is not a fit subject for training, or because it is too much trouble. Regard for the welfare of the child, if not sympathy for the poor teacher, unreservedly con- demns such a practice. All who have had experience with children will agree that they may be trained in important habits long be- fore it is possible to teach them. While a babe in its mother’s arms, a child may be trained to sleep in a noisy room with or without rocking, in the light or in the dark. Though in its early life it has no other way to express dissatis- faction, yet long before it is able to ut- ter a word it can be taught that it will not get what it -cries for. These and other important habits may very easily be instilled into the young child. It is not too much to assert that by the time the child is able to talk he may be led away from many of the habits which, in after years, would cause both child and parents much unpleasantness, if not absolute suffering. Without fear of successful contradiction it may be asserted that the traiping of & child should begin after birth and continue until the age when it {s freed from all parental authority. _With great plausibility some will con- tinue to urge the argument that a child’s nature cannot be changed. This may be true, in part. It is even more certain, however, that a child can be so trained that it will give expressions to its nature in an entirely différent way than the same child would but for the training. If the training is begun quite early and continues as long as the child is susceptible to impressions from without it will have a marked effect upon every stage of the child’s existence. It is not * Fifteenth Talk to Paremnts by Wm. J. Shearer £ too much to claim that continued proper training will so change the expression of the child’s nature that it will appear as an entirely different creature. Such training is in reality a process of re- creating a child into an entirely differ- .ent kind of being. The training suitable for any child. should not only be determined by the — heaith, the sex, the temperament and by other conditions; it should also be determined by age. The treatment which would be best for a young child would probably be the very worst for older children. As a child reaches the age of adolescence it will generally be necessary to relax absolute author- ity and make use of more reason. On the other hand, it would be an even greater mistake for parents to feel compelled to give reasons to the young child for the purpose of securing com- pliance with their wishes. Many will argue that a child’s fu- ture depends almost entirely upon what it inherits. This is not the case. s — A MAN'S ATMOSPHERE--BY THE PARSON T is hard to resist atmospheric con- ditions. A crisp January morning sets the blood tingling and makes you want to be up and doing. ‘When the air is damp and muggy depression créeps over you in spite of your best efforts. A famous New York editor used often to remark in the of- fice on a rainy morning: “This feels to me like a murder day. Get the staff ready to report it.” A certain true phil- osophy underlay his apparently flippant remark. He knew that on stormy days it was hard for people, particularly for- eigners, in ¢rowded tenements to live on friendly terms with one another and that angry words might soon lead to death dealing blows. This world is gwathed in an atmosphere whose con- stituent elements, varying in different localities in amount and in their meth- od of combining with one another, pro- duce varying results. In this fact lles to a large extent the difference between a languorous do-nothing son of the tropics and a brisk, forceful resident of Northern Europe or America. There are human atmospheres, too, composed of widely different elements. Some day a delicate instryment may be invented whereby we can analyze and measure them. Then we shall be able toi say pof Smith: ‘“He carries about an atmosphere in which nine parts oWt of ten are pure cynicism and the fraction downright pessi- mism"; “And there goes Jones, sur- rounded by an atmosphere of courage, hopefulness and friendliness in_about equal amounts.” And of Mrs. Robin- son we shall k: “Why, there's ozone unlimited in her very presence. How it braces ope just to talk with her five minutes!" Figures of speech aside, it is a tre- mendous protection to be able to pano- ply one’s self with the right sort of at- mosphere. 1 know a man who works in a cracker factory, where profanity and obscenity are altogether too com- mon. They grate upon him, but they do not defile him. He makes his own atmosphere and he can withdraw into it when the air of the room in which he works is foul with cheap and low talk. A person of this type becomes a member of a family in which criticism of neighbors, fault finding with one an- other, envy of the more prosperous, gossip and slander produce a common atmosphere uncongenial in the extreme. But this boarder,, or lodger, or visitor, whatever he may be, can come and 80 untouched and unsullied by the pre- vailing tone of things simply because he has a sure defense in the purer air in. which he has habituated himself to live. He has become morally im- mune. But a man’'s atmosphere may serve not simply as a protection but as an aggressive influence irf the world. ‘Why is it that some people seem to invite you to share with them %Il that is worst in you, while with others you feel bound to be your very best? At any rate, this question of a man’'s atmosphere is worth thinking about at the week's end. Each man is certainly responsible for the silent .impression his life makes. Will you.carry about a depressing, contaminating pergonal atmosphere or one charged with purity, courage and helpfulness? Those who have made the most care- ful study of this important problem agree that the most that can be claim- ed for heredity is a tendency to act as did the parents. They also agree that these tendencies require stimula- tion from without. Therefore, with proper care as to these outside stim- ulations to action, a child can be properly trained in spite of adverse tendencies. 4 The child may inherit impulses; but a kind providence has foreordain- ed that he shall not inherit habits. He may inhepit certaln tastes, but he does not inherit temptations. He may bring with him into the world tenden- cies; but he does not bring with him any prejudices. In the very great ma- Jjority of cases a child's character will be determined by his training and his environments, rather than by inher- ited tendencies.’ All the child’'s powers exist but as germs, which are easily developed and controlled almost at will by the wisely directed, fostering hand. Few will deny that, as we can train to healthy and well proportioned growth the plant, which, if neglected, would have proven unsightly, dwarfed and 'bar- ren of good fruit. so by proper train- ing the dormant powers of a child may be brought to healthy develop- ment; and by restraining the evil ten- dencies and stimulating the good vast changes for the better may be made in the developing character. Parents should remember that as the twig is bent the tree will slant; and in the direction it inclines in life, so it will fall in death. ng responsible for the first, they almost certainly deter- mine the last, not merely for all time, but for eternity as well. The third seven years may be termed the analytic age. During this period the youth " examines and questions more closely all matters presented to the at- tention; therefore the training which might answer satisfactorily for the first periods would be of much less value during this third stage of development. In spite of the fact that it is distinct- ly their duty too many parents try to place upon others the responsibility for training the child. Some look to the church for the training which the child UR CHILDREN | should be given: but the time spent In Sunday-school or church cannot possi- bly do much more than inspire. It may teach some things and inspire toward higher activities, but there is no possi- bility of such training as will firmly es- tablish habits of action. There are different phases of growth, though the child passes imperceptibly from one to another. The first seven years may be termed the plastic age, during which the child may be molded almost at will, llke clay in the potter’s hands. The second seven years is the recep- tive age, when many of the most last- ing impressions are made. During these periods every vicious mental, moral and physical tendency should be suppressed, and the natural activity directed to- ward some assoclated virtue. Thus, much can be done to transform by careful treatment, unwearied patience and persistent effort the surliness, vul. garity and other evil tendencies into their opposites. The great danger is lest in these years the mold into which the child Is cast may be a wrong one. Many more look to the schools, which are doing much toward training in right habits, along moral and physical, as well as educational lines. But for the training many get in the public schools of our land the outlook for the future of many a child, as well as for the nation, would be far more dis- couraging than it now is. In spite of this fact, however, it s, primarily, the duty of parents to see that the home training is what it should be: and there is no excuse for their attempting to shift the responsibility. Certain it 1s that the inspiration of the church and the instruction in the schools are in- finitely more effective when there is roper home training. In considering the power of training we must not forget that, while a vast deal can be accomplished by tralning, yet to the possibility of training there are certain limitations. Each child can be trained to do the best with his own powers. He can be trained to go “In the way he should go,” not in the way some other child can go. A child born blind may be taught things better than other children; Jbut cannot be taught to see