The Eugenic Marriage, Volume 3 (of 4): A Personal Guide to the New Science of Better Living and Better BabiesHague, W. Grant (William Grant)
Science
The Eugenic Marriage, Volume 3 (of 4): A Personal Guide to the New Science of Better Living and Better Babies
Hague, W. Grant (William Grant)
Eugenics; Hygiene; Marriage
And so it is that children soon learn who their real friends are. A home
is what the mother makes it. Cheerfulness does not cost anything, and
how much better it is if happiness abounds. You can get infinitely more
of the confidence of a child by being gentle, and by showing that you
have his or her real interest at heart. They will trust you more and
rely upon your forbearance in the event of anything going wrong. As we
boys and girls grew up the interest of the angel mother didn't cease; we
met her often, and she would ask "how things were going." She knew
exactly what each of the boys and girls was doing, and we always told
her the truth, and all the truth. If anything did go wrong, she would
know of it from one of the others, and she would "look up" the
unfortunate one. Many times to my knowledge she has helped another
mother over a crisis; when a boy was about to go wrong or showed a
tendency to do some foolish thing. She did so because she "had a way" of
getting round the boy, that even his own mother did not possess, and he
would listen. A mother who can preserve her own cheerfulness under all
circumstances is a jewel. The influence she wields is beyond estimation.
A radiant cheerfulness is something akin to Christlikeness, it is an
inspiration. People who live together frequently feel out of sorts in
the presence of each other without a feeling of compunction, without
realizing that they are guilty of a social discourtesy. If there is in
that home an optimistic, cheerful mother, how different the atmosphere
is! The cross look, or the touchy word, is quickly observed and all the
power of her infectious cheerfulness is brought into battle array and
the discontent is chased away, the vitriolic spirit of quarrel,
slumbering so near the surface, is made to feel ashamed of itself. It
shrinks into the darkness, and we begin the day all over again, thankful
that mother is so good, so considerate and patient.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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