The Claims of Children upon Parents.
By Mrs. A. M. Worden
IT is an oft-repeated formula that nothing is imperative but duty, and as all human relations and obligations grow out of parentage, parental duty must be most imperative of all. The social, the moral, the religious, the political are rooted and grounded in the family life, around and in which is supposed to cluster every holy affection, out of which is supposed to spring every lofty ambition and aspiration. But what if parental duty is neglected or shirked or set aside for something more inviting or desirable? What if outside affiliations, the delights of society, the pleasures of the club-room overpower the sense of obligation to the lives they have invoked, and the shrine of affection is neglected and the fire dies out measurably upon the home altar? Aye, what then? I think there is one property of parental affection that has scarcely been acknowledged—certainly not by parents themselves, for they seem utterly unconscious of it—and that is a sublime egotism that looks upon its own as scarcely lower than the angels; as not to be corrupted by evil associations or in any way to be defiled by impure surroundings. We have seen mothers flush with indignation at the mere intimation that their boys might be going wrong, or that such and such associations might not be quite safe for their daughters, and refuse to see or hear until the young feet had strayed far away. Fathers manifest the most serene indifference to their boys' whereabouts and companionship and would feel insulted by a word of warning. It seems strange this should be so, when we are all so human and the own of the best of us all so impressible. Why, the young mind is like the snow, catching and retaining everything that stains. We have been led into this train of thought by the oft-repeated accounts of juvenile depravity. Scarcely a paper comes to hand that does not detail some story of youthful or boyish crime. Where are the respectable parents who do not supervise their reading, who do not know where and how their boys are occupied and the associations they are forming during the many hours they must inevitably be away from home? Perhaps they would say they are so engrossed in business or household cares or in work for society they have no time to be watchful. But that will not do, for the children's claim to a pure guidance stands first, and, besides, they might bear a part in the business or the household cares, and as for society, why the children are society themselves and are to make the society of the future, and will the parents lead them so truly that they will be its bulwarks and strength, or will they leave them to become its sappers and miners? It is probably this class of young people denominated "respectable" who fall by the way, furnishing a large percentage of the elopements, the premature and ill-assorted marriages, divorces and suicides, as well as the depredating bands we so often hear of. It is all the result of sheer indulgence that submits everything to the choice of the child, which, not having been born with a mature judgment, is more than likely to go wrong. Now we do not believe in rods over the mantel-piece, nor in a long code of rules and regulations with penalties attached for the governance of children, but we do believe in parental authority that rules, not arbitrarily, but lovingly and wisely; in a watchfulness that knows unmistakably where the boy or girl is every hour of the day or night, and especially the night—that wins the love and confidence of the children into a quiet and willing obedience, that furnishes attractive occupation and that keeps something good and elevating, or at the very least innocent before the children's mind, instead of leaving them to find or make for themselves pastimes that are often reprehensible and debasing. Now it seems that if this influx of juvenile depravity is to be checked—and unless it is checked what of the future?—it must be by the parents; for if we can believe what we read, theology is shorn of its creedal terrors, our civil liberty is largely construed into license, the prison and the gallows have lost—if they ever had any—their deterrent force, the schools are futile to keep men honest, since our penitentiaries are full of educated men, and the law apparently connives at crime, or at least confesses it, for the sake of emolument, so that the chances of genuine reform are very small. "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," and though the ounce of prevention involves an eternal vigilance, it is the only security. And what as to the fathers? Has the Creator, think you, made the mistake of throwing upon the "weaker vessel" the entire responsibility of child-rearing? Is fatherhood an unconsecrated office? Can men afford to forego all self-sacrifice, that elevating and purifying force that crowns every woman who patiently accepts it with new grace and dignity? No, a thousand times no; and we believe every true man and father will so recognize it. There is too much talk of what is expected of the mother, and too much blame accorded her oftentimes when she strives hard to do her part, yet is cast down by the want of the needed moral support of her husband. This is not a matter of imagination, as some may suppose. It is but a few days since the writer heard the mother of a fine family express regret that her husband took no interest in the welfare of the children. He liked them while they were playthings, but after that seemed to forget that they needed his watch and care. Go out upon the street of an evening where the little boys are playing; listen a few moments, and if you do not hear profanity and vulgarity you are fortunate. There is where the father is needed, with a restraining and guiding influence, or the boys should be at home. Fathers would find it for their own interest to share the evening sports of their young boys, and while they keep the lads pure, will grow better themselves. There is no society this side of Heaven so good as that of little children, the pool-room, and the club-room, and political headquarters to the contrary notwithstanding; and if there is any business in life worth pursuing it is that of growing better and making the world better. Can we do anything to make the world better more effectively than by guarding the children from corrupting influences, and especially from the mischievous miasm of sensational literature? But the trouble is, too many parents like the sensational newspaper, and they are quite as corrupting as the dime novels, though they come in a different guise. Now we owe it to society, to the citizenship of the future, to discourage pernicious reading, and we urge it upon all parents to look well to their children's reading and whereabouts. "Take trouble for your children or they will make trouble for you," said Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and we think she was right. There is plenty of good literature to be had at little more expense, and once a good taste is acquired the sensational will not be attractive. The writer remembers the lady with whom we boarded—and she was a lady every inch, though a hard-working woman—used to gather other children into her kitchen, and with her own boys let them litter with scissors and paper, blocks and knives, until it looked like a work-shop, and she would take time to read some instructive and entertaining story, which perhaps would delay her own work into the night. Then when the play or the storm was over and time to go home, they were invited to sweep and put the room in order, and in time she taught some of the mothers it was better to cultivate the best that was in their boys, instead of selfishly sending them away from the fireside. Her own boys were taught to be helpers in the house, in kitchen and dining-room, and to take care of their rooms. Another thing she did which was wise, and which all mothers do not do, she gave them as pleasant a chamber as she gave her daughters, and then put them on their good behavior towards appointments, and never regretted it. Is it not time that parents, and particularly fathers, waked up to a sense of their duties to citizenship? There is a great deal of society work which is merely decorative. Is it wise only to adorn the topmost arches of the superstructure while you leave the foundations to dampness and decay? Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base,
And, ascending and secure,
Will to-morrow find its place.