Teaching the Child Patriotism

by Kate Upson Clark

"I'm going to the Bible House," replied the boy promptly. "You see the Morning Star,—that's the missionary ship, has just got in, and I paid a penny to get that ship, and so it's part mine, and I'm going down to hear all about it."

The gentleman who told this story was old, and the incident had occurred in his young manhood, but he said he had never forgotten it, for it illustrated better than anything he had ever seen the effect upon the mind of a personal share in any enterprise.

The child who has worked in a garden is likely to watch its growth and progress with an interest which he could not otherwise feel. In the same way he can be made to appreciate his home better if he has daily light tasks to do in maintaining its order and comfort; but these tasks should, if possible, be made regular ones, and their performance should become a habit. If they are done only now and then, they are much more likely to be felt as a burden.

The maintenance of the ordinary home requires great labor and expense. Without unduly distressing them, children should be made to understand this, and that it is only fair that each member of the family should do his part in keeping it up. In the households of the rich, such a course is hard to manage, for servants do all the work; but in the average home where but one servant, or none at all, is kept, a little ingenuity on the part of the parents will accomplish it, without "nagging" or tiresome repetition.

In one family of five children, where there was no servant, but where the standards of the mother were high, there was naturally an enormous amount of work to do. The eldest child was a girl of twelve, the next, a girl of ten. Then came a boy of eight, and so on down. The older ones were in school, but all helped cheerfully in the household work as far as they were able.

The boy of eight, who may be called Chester, was a thoughtful little fellow, and when he saw his mother rising at four or five o'clock every morning to wash or iron or cook; then, all day long cutting out little garments, running the sewing-machine, tending the teething baby, or engaged in the never-ending task of cleaning the house, his tender heart was deeply moved.

He was a great reader and the lady who superintended the village library came to know him well, and often had long talks with him. From his extensive reading, coupled with a naturally rather "old-fashioned" way of expressing himself, his remarks were often of a nature to amuse her, but she never laughed at him, and so was able to keep his confidence.

One morning Chester appeared with his weekly book, and as the librarian was alone, he sat down for a little talk. His face was long, and as he dropped into his chair, he sighed heavily.

"What is the matter, Chester?" she asked kindly.

"My mother is sick," he replied dejectedly. "She is sick in bed. My father got the breakfast, but he isn't much good,—and we children helped, but we ain't much good either. Not anything goes right when my mother is sick."