The Children of the West 77 



West a stream is expected to rise higher than its 

 source. A minute later the mother murmured, " I 

 do wish that you could hear Alvira play Weber's 

 ' Invitation to the Waltz.' " 



Alvira was sweet sixteen, had attended school 

 since she was six, and what she knew of practical 

 value could have been put into a grain of millet- 

 seed. 



On the other hand, the boys are encouraged to 

 earn an honest penny as soon as they are breeched. 

 I am speaking of the sons of the poor. Many a 

 small boy, out of school hours, sells papers, peddles 

 tamales, or does " chores," for a neighbour. The 

 money so earned he spends on himself. This of 

 course fosters independence. The boy learns to 

 paddle his own canoe, to shoot the rapids. At 

 fifteen he is — so to speak — a voyageur, a naviga- 

 tor. The father is a " back number." 



The conceit of the very small boys, their bump- 

 tiousness and braggadocio, always amaze the stranger 

 and foreigner. I read a story the other day that 

 must have been clipped from a Western newspaper. 

 A father leaving home had specially commended 

 the care of the mother to his small son, aged — 

 five. That night, the urchin modified his evening 

 prayer. He entreated the protection of Heaven on 

 behalf of the absent sire ; but he ended as follows : 

 "Dear God, don't bother about mamma, for I'm 

 taking care of her myself." 



My own little boy, a Native Son brought up in 

 California, was very much excited at the prospect 

 of a first visit to England. The battle of Omdur- 

 man had just been fought. " I do hope," he said, 



