As Mrs. Wayne and her daughter sat at their window they saw a carriage
dash by containing a handsomely dressed woman. Shortly after a very
pretty girl passed the house, talking busily with a boy of her own age.
"How funny some mothers are," said Helen. "That was Mrs. Eversman who
rode by just now, and that's Corrinne, her daughter. Mrs. Eversman pays
no attention to Corrinne except to buy her pretty clothes, and scold her
for carelessness. Corrinne goes where she pleases. She has lots of
beaux, and when they call she won't let her mother come into the
parlor,--she says she doesn't want her 'snooping' around, and Mrs.
Eversman only laughs. She seems to think it smart. And, mother, Corrinne
has such lovely presents from boys and young men. And when she goes to
the theatre with a young man, she insists on having a carriage and
flowers and a supper afterward. She says no fellow need come around her
unless he has 'the spondulics,' she calls money."
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Wayne thoughtfully. "How little she understands
the purpose of life!"
"But she says she wants to have a good time," urged Helen.
"Surely," was Mrs. Wayne's reply. "Every girl is entitled to a good
time, but that does not of necessity consist of spending money. I should
think she wouldn't like to be under such obligations to young men."
"O, I guess she doesn't think she is under obligations. She thinks they
are under obligation to her for condescending to go with them. But,
mother, ought a girl let a young man spend money on her?"
"I hope, my dear, when you are old enough to go out with young men that
you will care too much for yourself to be willing to take expensive
gifts. A certain amount of expenditure is allowable. A few flowers, a
book, or a piece of music, but never elegant jewelry or articles of
clothing. That is not only bad taste but it is often a direct incentive
for young men of small salaries to be dishonest. Corrinne, and girls
like her, do not know how much they may be responsible for young men
becoming untrue to their business trusts, nor how much they might do to
strengthen young men in their purposes to be honest. You remember Aunt
Elsie and Uncle Harold. He is a man of means now, but he was once a poor
young clerk. He admired Elsie and wanted to show her every attention,
but she knew his salary would not permit extravagance; so when he first
asked her to go to some public entertainment, he said he would come with
a carriage at the appointed time. At once she said decidedly, 'Then I
will not go. It is not far. If it is a fine night, we can walk. If it
rains, we can go on the street cars. You may send me a few flowers, but
we will not have an opera supper nor indulge in needless carriages!' Of
course he objected, and urged that he could afford it. 'But I can't,'
was her reply. And years after, when they were married, he confessed
that it was a great relief to him to be able to take her about in ways
that suited his purse and yet have no fear of being thought mean. Now he
can buy her everything her heart can desire; but he acknowledges that he
might not have been able to withstand the temptation had she in her
younger days desired pleasures beyond his power honorably to provide."
"Mother," said Helen after a pause, as two girls passed the house with
their arms about each other's waists. "Don't you think it silly for
girls to be so 'spooney'?"
"I certainly think it is in bad taste for them to be so publicly
demonstrative, and I could wish that girls might be friends with each
other more as boys are. Now, there are Paul and Winfield. Surely no
girls ever thought more of each other than these two boys, and yet I
fancy we would smile to see them embracing each other on all occasions,
as Lucy and Nellie do."
"I should say so! I've heard Paul say, 'Old Chap,' or seen Winfield give
Paul a slap on the shoulder; but they are never silly and they've been
friends for years. But Lucy and Nellie have only been so 'thick' for a
few weeks, and they'll fall out pretty soon. Lucy is always having such
lover-like friends and then quarreling with them. Now, she and Nellie
are going to have a mock wedding next week. They call themselves husband
and wife even now,--isn't that silly?"
"It is worse than silly,--I call it wrong," replied Mrs. Wayne. "Such
morbid friendships are dangerous, both to health and morals."
"To the health, mother? I don't see how that can be."
"No, I doubt if you can, but I hope that you will believe me when I tell
you they are dangerous. When girls are so demonstrative, when they claim
to stand to each other as man and woman, you may feel assured that the
relation is unnatural and that the drain upon the nervous system is very
great. I once knew a girl who actually destroyed the health of a number
of girls in a school by such demonstrative friendships. She always had
one devoted friend who could not live without her. I have known a girl
to cry day after day and actually go home sick, because her friendship
with this girl was threatened. And it is said that another girl took her
own life from jealousy of this one.
"Friendship is a grand thing when it is true and worthy, but a morbid,
unnatural sentimentality does not deserve the name of friendship and I
should be very sorry to see you fall into the toils of a morbid,
unnatural relation with another girl. Yet I should be pleased to see
you having a sincere, womanly, noble affection for another girl, one
which would not waste itself in sentimentality but be able to rise to
heights of grand renunciation."
"I think I understand you, mother, and I promise you I will try to hold
the highest ideals of friendship."
Such talks as these brought mother and daughter into such close
companionship that Helen was not afraid to bring her mother the deepest
problems of her young life.
It was Saturday afternoon, and mother and daughter were sitting together
sewing. The rain was pouring, so that there was little fear of visitors,
and while Mrs. Wayne was discussing with herself how she could begin to
talk to her daughter of her approaching womanhood, Helen suddenly said,
"Mother, what is the matter with Clara Downs? She is going into
consumption, they say, and I heard Sadie Barker say to Cora Lee that it
was because Clara did not change into a woman. What did she mean? I
thought we just grew into women. Isn't that the way?"
"You didn't ask Sadie what she meant?"
"O, no, the girls acted as if they didn't want me to hear, and then, I'd
always rather you'd tell me things, for then I feel sure that I know
them right."
This little testimony of her trust in her mother furnished Mrs. Wayne
with the desired opportunity, and she said, "In order that you may
clearly understand Sadie's remark I shall have to make a long
explanation of how girls become women."
"Why, mother, don't we just grow into women?"
"Well, my dear, I shall have to say both yes and no to that question.
Girls do grow and become women, but women are something more than
grown-up girls. This house is much bigger than it was two years ago. Did
it just grow bigger?"
"Why, no, not exactly. There are no more rooms now than there were
before, but some rooms have been finished off and are used now, when
before they weren't used at all, and so the house seems bigger. But it
can't be that way with our bodies, for we don't have any new organs
added or finished off to make us women?"
"That is just what is done, my daughter."
"What! New organs added, mother? What can you mean?"
"I mean, dear, that your bodily dwelling is enlarged, not by the
addition of new rooms, but by the completing of rooms that have as yet
not been fitted up for use."
"I don't understand you, mother."
"I suppose not, but I hope to be able to make you understand. You have
studied your bodily house and know of the rooms in the different
stories, the kitchen, laundry, dining-room, picture-gallery and
telegraph office,--in fact, all the rooms or organs that keep you alive;
but there is one part of the house that you have not studied. There are
various rooms or organs which are not needed to keep you alive, and
which have, therefore, been closed. As you approach womanhood, these
organs will wake up and become active, and their activity is what will
make you a woman."
"Why, mother, it sounds like a fairy story, a tale of a wonderful magic
palace, doesn't it? And Clara Downs hasn't got these marvelous rooms?"
"Yes, they are there, but they are evidently not being finished off for
use. I think, however, the girls made the mistake of confounding cause
and effect. They say she is going into consumption because she does not
become a woman. I think she does not become a woman because she is going
into consumption. Do you know why we did not finish off these rooms in
our house sooner?"
"Why, father said he had not the money."
"That is right. He did not say that he did not have the money because he
did not finish off the rooms."
"My, no, that would have been absurd; but I don't see how that applies
to Clara?"
"It needed money to finish off our house; so it needs vitality to change
from girl to woman, and Clara seems not to have the vitality. She is
failing in health, hence she has not vital force to spend in completing
her physical development."
"But, mother, tell me more about this wonderful change. Where are the
new rooms and what is their purpose? I can't really believe that I have
some bodily organs that I never heard of. What are they and where are
they; when will they be finished off? I am all curiosity. Didn't we
study about them in our school physiology?"
"You have given me a good many questions to answer, little girl, and I
hardly know where to begin answering them.
"In your school physiology you studied all about the organs that keep
you alive. What did you learn about your bodily house? How many stories
is it?"
"Three stories high, and then there is a cupola on the top of all. I
like to think of the head as a cupola or observatory, resting on the
tower of the neck and turning from side to side as we want to look
around us."
"And what is the furniture in the different stories?"
"O, the upper story is called the thorax, and the one big room in it is
the thoracic cavity. It contains the heart and lungs. The next story
below is the abdominal cavity and it has a number of articles of
furniture, the liver, the stomach, the spleen, the bowels, etc. Then the
lower story is--O, I've forgotten what it is called."
"The lower story is called the pelvis."
"O, yes, and the pelvic cavity contains the reservoirs for waste
material. I remember you told me that once."
"That is right. The pelvic cavity contains the bladder, which is the
reservoir for waste fluid, and the rectum, the outlet for waste solids.
But it contains more than these. It is here in the pelvis that these
organs of which you have not heard are located. You remember when you
asked me about yourself and how you came into the world I told you of a
little room in mother's body where you lived and grew until you were
large enough to live your own independent existence. Did you ever wonder
where this room is?"
"Why, I never thought much about it. I guess I just thought it was in
the abdominal cavity. Isn't it?"
[Illustration]
"No, the room is a little sac that lies here in the pelvis. I can best
explain it to you by a picture. Here it is. You see it looks like a
pear hanging with the small end down. It lies just between the bladder
and the rectum, and a passage leads up to it."
"O, I see. Doesn't the bladder empty itself through that passage?"
"No, the outlet to the bladder is just at the very entrance to this
passage, but does not open into the passage at all. This passage is
called the vagina, and the little room has two names. One is Latin,
uterus; the other is Saxon, womb--it means the place where things are
brought to life. The Latin word is used by scientists, but the Saxon
word is used in the Bible and by poets. Do you remember when Nicodemus
came to Jesus that he was told he must be born again, and he said in
surprise, 'Can a man enter the second time into his mother's womb and be
born?'"
"O, I see now what he meant. I could not understand it before. Of
course, he knew that was impossible, and so he could not see what Jesus
meant."
"David says, 'Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise
thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.' Poets sometimes speak of
the womb of the morning, meaning the place where morning lies and grows
until it is ready to burst forth in beauty on the world."
"I like the Saxon word better than the Latin one, don't you?"
"Yes, but as scientists use the Latin word we shall use that, so that
we will know how to talk on these subjects scientifically. The uterus
hangs suspended by two broad ligaments (marked _ll_ in the picture).
There are also round ligaments from the back and front which hold it
loosely in place. On the back of each broad ligament is an oval body
called the ovary (marked _o_).
"Do you remember once seeing in a hen that Ellen was preparing for
dinner a great number of eggs of all sizes? That was the hen's ovary.
_Ovum_ means an egg, and _ovary_ means the place of the eggs."
"O, mother, women don't have eggs, do they? I don't like that."
"Well, if you do not like to use the word egg we can say _ovum_, which,
you know, is the Latin word for egg. The plural is _ova_. Or we may call
the _ovum_ the germ, which means the primary source. The ovum or germ is
a very tiny thing, so small that it cannot be seen without a microscope;
240 laid side by side would make only one inch in length."
"O, mother, that is wonderful."
"Yes, dear. The whole process of life is very wonderful and very
beautiful. The uterus and ovaries belong to what is called the
reproductive system. As I said, until now your vital forces have been
employed in keeping you alive. Your nutritive system, your muscular
system, your nervous system and so on, have all been busy taking care
of you only; but soon your reproductive system will awaken and begin to
take on activity."
"And what does that mean, mother?"
[Illustration: Ova.]
"It means that you are entering on what is known as the maternal period
of your life; are actually becoming a woman with all a woman's power of
becoming a mother."
"But you don't mean that a girl of fourteen could become a mother?"
"Yes, it might be possible; but no girl of fourteen should be a mother,
for she is not fully developed and her children will not be strong as if
she had not married until after she were twenty."
"But tell me, mother, all about it. I don't see now how the baby
grows?"
"Well, I was showing you the ovary in which are many ova. As the girl
nears the age of fourteen, these ova start to grow and once a month one
ripens and is thrown out of the ovary. It is taken up by the Fallopian
tube, marked _od_ in the picture, and it passes down the tube into the
uterus and through the vagina out into the world."
"Can one tell when it passes?"
"No, but there is a sign that this change has taken place. The uterus is
lined with a membrane in which are many blood vessels, and when the girl
has reached this stage of development and becomes a woman, the vessels
become very full of blood, so full that it oozes out through the walls
of the blood vessels into the cavity of the uterus, and when it passes
out of the vagina the girl becomes aware of it and knows that she has
become a woman.
"This process takes place once a month and is called menstruation, from
the Latin _mensum_, a month."
"Isn't it painful, mother?"
"It ought not to be and is not, if the girl is perfectly well. But
sometimes girls have dressed improperly and have displaced their internal
organs, or they have exhausted themselves with pleasure-seeking, or in
some other way have injured themselves, in which case they may suffer much
pain. When girls get about this age mothers are very anxious about them,
very desirous that they shall naturally and easily step over into the
land of womanhood."
"I should think that girls ought to be taught about themselves, so that
they would not do the things which injure them."
"I think they should, and that is why I am telling you all this to-day
so that when the change comes to you, you will not be frightened and
maybe do something from which you will suffer all your life long, as
many girls have done.
"The question of tight clothing becomes now much more important than
ever before. You can see at once that the restriction of the clothing
comes just over the part of the body where there is the least
resistance."
"Oh, yes, I remember about the seven upper ribs, that are fastened to
both spine and breast-bone; and the five lower ribs, that are fastened
directly only to the spine and are attached in front to the breast-bone
by cartilage; and the two floating ribs, lowest of all, and fastened
only to the spine. I have often wondered why the important organs of the
abdominal cavity should not have been better protected."
"It was needful to leave the front of the body covered only with
muscular structure, or it could not be bent and twisted about as we can
now bend it, and that would have hindered our activity. Just imagine
yourself going about encased in bone from your shoulders to your hips."
Helen laughed merrily. "I shouldn't like it," she said, "but that is
just what is done by the corset, and folks get used to that."
"Yes, they become accustomed to the pressure because the nerves lose
their sensitiveness and no longer report their discomfort to the brain;
but the injury continues, nevertheless."
"Mother, I wish you'd tell me just how tight clothing is injurious. So
many of the girls laugh at me because I don't wear a corset, and they
declare it does not hurt them. They all say they wear their clothes
perfectly loose and they think they prove it by showing me how they can
run their fists up under their dress waists."
"Certainly, that can be done even with a very tight dress, by just
pressing a little more air out of the lungs; but that is not a true
measurement. To learn if the dress is tight, one should unfasten all of
the clothing, draw in the breath slowly until the lungs are filled to
their utmost capacity. Then, while the lungs are held full, see if the
clothing can be fastened without allowing any air to escape. If it can,
then it is not tight; but if the lungs must be compressed, ever so
little, in order to allow the clothing to be fastened, it is too tight.
You see, the power we have to breathe is the measure of our power to do,
and to lessen our breathing capacity is to lessen our ability in all
directions.
"I saw a statement yesterday that will interest you. It was a recital of
an experiment made by Dr. Sargent on twelve girls in running 540 yards
in 2 minutes 30 seconds. The first time they ran without corsets and
their waists measured 25 inches. The pulse was counted before running
and found to beat 84 times a minute. Again, it was counted after
running and found to have risen to 152. The second run was made in the
same length of time, but with corsets on, which reduced the waist
measure to 24 inches. Pulse before running 84; after running 168,
showing the extra effort the heart was obliged to make because of the
restriction of the waist and consequent lessening of the breathing
power. He also found that the corset reduced the breathing capacity
one-fifth.
"Let me read you another little item:
"'Dr. Dickenson has been studying the pressure of the corset. He says
that in the ordinary breathing we have to overcome in the resistance and
elasticity of chest and lungs a force of 170 pounds. If the woman whose
waist measure is 27 inches wears a corset of the same size, so that her
waist is not compressed at all, there is added a force of 40 pounds. If
her natural waist measure is 27 inches and is reduced by the corset to
25-1/2 inches, the pressure is 73 pounds.'
"When Dr. Lucy Hall was physician at Vassar College, she made some
observations as to the mental powers manifested by those who wore and
those who did not wear corsets. In a graduating class in which there
were thirty-five girls, nineteen wore no corsets; eighteen members of
the class took honors, and of these thirteen wore no corsets; seven of
the class were appointed to take part in public on Commencement Day, and
six of these wore no corsets. All who took prizes for essays wore no
corsets; five girls were class-day orators, and four of these wore no
corsets; five had not missed a day in four years, and one had not missed
a day in six years. That speaks pretty loudly in favor of doing without
corsets, doesn't it?"
"Yes, indeed; but some of the girls care more for looks than for class
honors. They say a girl looks so queer without a corset."
"That is because we have set up false standards of beauty. If we examine
the finest statuary of all ages, we shall not find a single figure that
has been accustomed to tight clothing. The artist copies God's ideal
figure of the woman, not that of the fashion plate. You see, we have
become so accustomed to the deformed figure that we call it beautiful,
just as the Chinese woman thinks her deformed foot is beautiful."
"O, isn't it dreadful that the Chinese bind up the feet of the little
girls as they do?"
"It certainly is; but not as dreadful as that Christian women bind up
the vital parts of the body and prevent their working as they should.
One can live without feet, but one could not live without heart and
lungs and other vital organs, and can only half live when these organs
are cramped and crowded together so they cannot work properly. If we
were all truly artistic we would be pained at the sight of the small
waist, for we should know that it was procured at the expense of the
vital organs. You have heard of the statue of the Venus de Medici,
renowned as being the most beautiful representation of a woman's
figure?"
"O, yes, I have seen pictures of it."
"A certain English actress was called a model of loveliness in form and
feature. Some one has made a comparison between the two. Here are the
pictures and measurements:
[Illustration]
Bust measure 36
Waist 26
Hip 45
Fig. 1
Bust measure 38
Waist 32
Hip 43
Fig. 2
"You see how graceful the curves of the Venus (Fig. 2), how abrupt those
of the actress (Fig. 1), and yet to most people her figure looks the
more elegant. But I want to call your attention to the fact that to
create her figure is really to lose much space, and to crowd together
the important vital organs until their working power is greatly
hindered. This same actress has become enlightened and now says: 'Of
course, no woman can breathe properly in a tightly-laced corset. I am
horrified when I think of the way I used to compress my waist, and look
back at the pictures showing my hour-glass figure with positive
amazement.'
"Don't you think it strange that we never want little rooms with
furniture huddled close together, except in our bodily dwellings? The
Divine Architect has given us grand apartments, with all the machinery
harmoniously related, and we think we improve things by putting
everything into the closest possible quarters and disturbing the
harmony! But the damage is not done to the heart and lungs alone. The
liver is crowded out of place until it sometimes reaches clear across
the abdomen and is creased with ruts from the pressure of the ribs upon
it. The stomach is also pressed out of place. It belongs close up under
the diaphragm, but it is crowded by the pressure down until it lies in
the abdominal cavity, as low down, sometimes, as the umbilicus, six or
eight inches below where it belongs."
[Illustration: Showing how much space is lost by constriction of the
waist.]
"O, mother, that seems awful."
"It is awful, my dear, because the body is created to do certain work,
and to do that work well, its laws should be regarded. We would not
think of interfering with the works of a watch or a piano, because they
are valuable, but we do not hesitate to interfere with the more
valuable organs of our bodies, and we do not even think that we are
offering an insult to the Creator.
"But I have not told you yet of the evil effects in the displacement of
the bowels. Do you remember how many feet of intestines there are in the
body?"
"About twenty feet of small and about four feet of large intestines."
"And how are they held in place?"
"Why, I don't just remember."
"The small intestines are encased in a membrane called the mesentery. It
is just as if I folded this strip of cloth in the middle lengthwise and
put my finger inside of the fold. The small intestines lie in the middle
fold of the mesentery, and the edges of the mesentery are gathered up
like a ruffle and fastened to the spine in a space of about six inches,
leaving it to flare out like a very full ruffle. In this way, you see,
the intestines are left free, and yet cannot tie themselves in knots as
they might if but laid loosely in the abdominal cavity.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.--A natural figure and a normal pose.]
[Illustration: Fig. 2.--Corseted figure producing abnormal pose.]
"If the waist is constricted above them, they sink down and pull on this
attachment, and that often causes backache and inability to stand or
walk with comfort. It may also press the reproductive organs out of
place, and so cause much pain and suffering at menstruation.
"I am of the opinion that women were not intended to be invalids in any
degree because of their womanhood; and very likely there would be much
less flow at menstrual periods if women and girls lived in accordance
with Nature's laws."
"But, mother, you have not told me what this blood is for. It seems as
if it would not be necessary for women to go through such an experience
every month."
"Perhaps we do not fully know why it should be so, but we do know when
the little child is growing in its little room, the mother does not have
the menstrual flow; so we may suppose that it goes to nourish the
child."
"O, I see, and when not needed for the child, it just passes away."
"Yes, and every time this occurs it says to the woman that she is a
perfect woman, capable of all the duties of the wife and mother. This
thought should make her think very sacredly of herself."
For a few moments there was silence between mother and daughter, broken
only by the sound of the falling rain. At length Helen spoke. "Mother,
there is something I want to ask you about. You remember last summer,
when Mrs. Vale and Mrs. Odell called on you, I was in the library and
they did not see me. While they were waiting for you they began to talk
of Edith Chenowyth and of something dreadful she had been doing. They
called her a very bad girl. When you came in they spoke to you about her
and you said 'Poor child, I am sorry for her;' and they were quite angry
that you should pity her. Just before they left I made some slight
noise, and Mrs. Vale said, 'I hope no one heard what we've said,' and
you said, 'I hope not, I am sure.' So I thought you would not want me to
know of it or I should have asked you about what it all meant.
"Yesterday I heard some of the girls talking and one said, 'Did you know
that Edith Chenowyth had a baby last night? She is down at old Mrs.
Fein's. Her folks have turned her out of the house.' Then Clara Downs
said, 'Well, they ought to turn her out, acting as she has.' Then they
all said such dreadful things of her! And while they were talking, Cora
Lee came up and said, 'O, girls, I am an Auntie! My sister Ada had the
loveliest baby boy last night and my father gave her $500 because it is
his first grandson; and the baby's father opened a bank account in the
name of Charles Wyndham Bell. Ada is just as happy as she can be and we
are all so proud.'
"Now, mother, Ada Lee and Edith Chenowyth were in the same class at
school; they sang a duet together on the day of their graduation and
Edith was just as lovely as Ada. Now she has a baby and every one
scorns her, while Ada has one and she is honored and loved. I wish you'd
explain this to me."
"Well, my daughter, you see Ada is married and Edith is not."
"Yes, I know that; and yet that does not explain to me why a child
should be an honor to one and a disgrace to the other. I know people
think so, but I want to know why."
"In order to make you understand why, I shall have to take you back to
your lessons in botany. You recall how you learned there of the
reproduction of plants. You learned that the pollen must pass down the
style and fertilize the seed before it would grow; and you learned that
the stamen, anther and pollen were the male part of the plant and the
ovary, style and stigma the female part of the plant."
"Yes, and I remember that I thought it rather silly that in a school
book the plants should be spoken of as people, as if it were a fairy
story."
"And yet, my dear, it was only stating an actual fact, and was not, as
you fancied, a fairy story. There are really fathers and mothers among
plants; if there were not there could be no new plant life. In some
plants the male and female are united in the same flower; in other
plants there are male and female flowers, but all growing on the same
plant. In a third species all the flowers of one plant will be male, and
all of another plant will be female. The fertilization of plants is
very interesting, for the insects and the bees and the breezes often
carry the pollen of the male flowers to the female flowers, and so the
seeds are fertilized.
"When we come to study reproduction among the human race, we find the
same plan; in fact, we find it in all forms of organized life, plants,
animals and man. That is, there must be fathers as well as mothers.
[Illustration: SPERMATOZOA.]
"I told you of the germ or ovum that is produced by the ovary of the
woman. That ovum of itself could never become a new being. It must be
united with a life-giving principle furnished by the man. This principle
consists of a fluid in which float tiny little creatures called
spermatozoa--one is a spermatozoon. Here is a picture of some. They are
too small to be seen without the aid of a microscope. They are about
1/500 of an inch long, that is, 500 of them laid end to end, would cover
only an inch in length.
"If an ovum starts from the ovary and is not hindered, it will pass on
through the uterus and the vagina into the world, and that is the end of
it; but if, when the ovum starts from the ovary to make its way through
the tube, the spermatozoa are deposited here at the mouth of the uterus,
they will find their way up into the cavity, and if one meets an ovum
and enters into it, a new life is begun. The ovum will now fasten itself
to the walls of the uterus and grow into the little child.
"You can understand that, for the spermatozoa to be placed where they
can find their way into the uterus, means a very close and familiar
relation of the man and woman.
"When two people have decided that they love each other so well that
they are willing to leave all friends and ties of home, and in the
presence of witnesses promise to live together always, and a clergymen
has conducted a solemn ceremony and pronounced them husband and wife, it
is perfectly proper for them to do what before would not have been
proper.
"They may go and live in a house by themselves, occupy the same room,
bear the same name and be, in the eyes of the community, as one person.
"If they desire to call into life a little child of their own, it is
fully in accordance with the laws of God and man, and no one can
criticise them. They have violated no ideas of purity or propriety. But
you can understand that if an unmarried woman has a child, every one
knows that she has had, with some man, an intimate relation to which
they had no right, either moral or legal. They have sacrificed modesty
and purity, and the child is a badge of disgrace, rather than of
honor."
"Isn't it just as much of a disgrace to him as to her?"
"Yes, dear, I think it is, and so do many of the best people; but,
unfortunately, there are many who do not think so, and blame the woman
or girl altogether. And the man, very likely, does not blame himself. He
says, 'Well, she ought not to have permitted it,' and so he gets out of
the way and leaves her to bear the shame alone. It is a cowardly thing
to do, for in all probability he was the one who made the first advances
and, had she been wise, she would have shunned the man who tried to lead
her into wrong, into doing that which would forfeit her self-respect and
the respect of the world. Even the man scorns the woman whom he leads
into disgrace."
"I suppose girls don't understand it, do they? Now, I did not
understand, until just now as you have told me about it, and I believe
lots of the girls are going into danger and don't know it. I must tell
you something. Yesterday as I was walking home from school with Belle
Dane--you know her, don't you? Isn't she pretty?"
"Yes, she is pretty, and I should imagine pert also. She has no
mother."
"Well, as we were walking along, a young man passed us. Belle smiled and
bowed, and he bowed too. I said, 'Who is that?' She said, 'I don't know,
but isn't he handsome? I shouldn't wonder if he'd turn back and walk
with us!' And sure enough, in a moment he was walking at her side,
saying, 'What a lovely day? Do you walk here every day?' and she said,
'Yes, as I go from school. On Saturdays I walk by the lake.'
"'Ah,' he said, 'I am thinking of walking there to-morrow. At what hour
do you walk?' 'About 4 o'clock,' she said. Then he looked at me. 'Does
your friend walk there, too? I have a friend who'd be glad to come.'
Then I broke in--'No, I never walk by the lake.' Then he bowed and left,
and Belle said, 'O, you little goose! Why did you say you didn't walk by
the lake? He'd have brought his friend and we'd have had such a good
time. Ten to one he'll bring flowers or candy, and we could take a boat
ride. You were foolish.' And I said, 'I don't want to walk with young
men, especially if I don't know them.' And she laughed and said, 'O,
you'll get over that when you're older and learn what fun it is. My,
he's a gentleman! See how nice he dressed and what pretty teeth he had
and what nice words he used.' Now, I thought maybe I was silly, but
after what you have told me to-day, I think she is going in dangerous
places and maybe don't know it. I am so glad you told me."
"Yes, poor child! It was just so that Edith began. She met a handsome
young man. She thought him a gentleman because he dressed fine. She let
him hold her hand, then put his arm around her and kiss her, and so,
little by little, he led her on, and she thought it was all so
nice,--and now she is friendless and in great trouble."
"Mother, it makes me think of a little girl I saw at the seaside last
summer. She was dancing on the edge of the waves. They came up and
washed over her little pink toes and she laughed with delight. After a
time the tide rose a little higher and the waves dashed over her feet
and still she thought it fun; and then came one big wave and threw her
down and carried her out to sea, and if there hadn't been some sailors
right there with a boat she would have been drowned,--and all the time
she thought it fun till the last wave came, and then she was frightened
awfully."
"Your illustration is a very good one, my daughter, and I fear that poor
Belle is dancing in the gentle foam of a wave that will grow in power
till it carries her out to sea, a lost girl."
"Mother, I really don't see how a girl can let a man become so familiar
with her. I should think it would disgust her at once; and yet Edith
seemed like a perfect lady."
"No doubt you will understand this puzzling matter better after a few
years than you do now, but I can explain it to you partly. It is a part
of human nature that men and women are very attractive to each other,
and in a way that does not exist between men and men or women and women.
It may be called a sort of personal magnetism. As they begin to develop
into men and women, they begin to feel this new attraction. They want to
please each other. New feelings and emotions are felt. If their hands
touch, they feel a sort of electric thrill, even the glance of the eye
may cause the same thrill. They enjoy it, and they do not know what it
means. They do not know that, while it is pleasant, it is also
dangerous.
"Girls are more ignorant than young men, because, as a rule, they have
been taught less. The young men know more, but in all probability they
have not learned from sources that are pure. The young girl does not
understand that her coquettish glances and tossings of the head and
simperings are so many intuitive efforts to awaken that sort of magnetic
thrill in the young man. If she knew it, she would see that it is more
maidenly to hold in check all actions that would tend to make the young
man desire to be familiar with her."
"But, mother, if it is not right to be familiar, why does God make us
with those desires?"
"God has given us many desires that are right under certain conditions
and wrong under others and He has given us reason with which to control
our desires. It is right to eat when the food is our own, but wrong to
eat if we have stolen the food. It is right to enjoy the attraction of
one to whom our heart and life is given, but otherwise we are defrauding
some one else. You can understand that you would not want the man you
are to marry to have had familiarities with many other girls, neither
would he like to think that other men had been permitted to be free with
you.
"If you were going to select a dress that was to last all your life
long, you would not choose goods that had been handled and were
shop-worn. Even so with husband and wife. Each likes to feel sure that
the freshest, purest love of the heart and modesty of person has been
kept unstained from the slightest unwarrantable familiarity."