232 What We Lose 



schools. The boy who at the age of twelve is 

 a good swimmer, a good sailor, fond of shoot- 

 ing, fishing, and out-door sports, is able to read 

 and write, and has a genuine love and appre- 

 ciation of a score of good books, and not a 

 little good music, is pretty sure to get along in 

 whatever school he finds himself, for whatever 

 he knows, he will know thoroughly and not 

 superficially. 



The real school is, after all, the home school, 

 of which the father and mother are the head 

 teachers. Here, again, is one reason why life 

 in the wilderness is an advantage to the child. 

 He is with his father most of the day, and if 

 the household has any atmosphere of culture 

 about it, he is pretty sure to absorb some of it. 

 In city life, the father may be seen at break- 

 fast, and possibly for a moment before the 

 children go to bed, but that, as a rule, is all, 

 except on Sunday, when he is often too tired 

 to bother with the children and too unfamiliar 

 with them to take much interest in their do- 

 ings. More than half the pleasure that I get 

 out of my country life is due to constant asso- 

 ciation with the children. The boat seldom 



