In homes where this lovely sympathy exists, anxiety regarding the moral welfare of the boy is reduced to a minimum. Where the youth can come to his mother, and still better to his father, in every dilemma, sure of advice and aid, he will not go very far wrong. The world is full of pitfalls, and it is sure nothing short of the grace of God can keep young manhood in the right way; but very certain am I that parents have much, ay, more than they dream of in their power.
Let them at least see to it that they do not fall short. Let the boy feel that the home is his, that his friends are welcome to it, and that he need not go out always to seek liberty and enjoyment. In one word, let him have room to breathe and to live, and the chances are that he will repay you by becoming all you could desire even in your fondest dreams.
[XI. THE DAUGHTER IN THE HOME.]
he home is incomplete without the daughter, the sweet little baby who from the first entwined herself about her parents' hearts; and who, as she grows in beauty, is a source of constant joy and pride, not quite untouched by anxiety. For when we have educated our sons and done for them all we possibly can, they can, as a rule, stand on their own sturdy legs, and take their own place in the world, we looking on with pride if they adorn it well—with sadness if they fall short. We do not love them less, but they sooner place themselves beyond our jurisdiction, and responsibility concerning them is sooner at an end. With the daughters it is different. As the old rhyme says—
"A son is a son till he gets him a wife,
A daughter's a daughter to the end of her life,"
words which just express the whole situation. Even after she marries our anxiety and loving concern for her in her new sphere quite equals the old; her little children, reminding us of what she was once to us, are dear to us in a way our son's children can never be. It seems a strange anomaly, yet will most mothers bear me out in what I say.