WHAT WE LOSE AND WHAT WE GAIN. 221 



I have had no compunctions of conscience in 

 teaching them to swim and row and to love 

 fishing and hunting before they knew how to 

 read or write a line. The worst that could 

 happen to them would be to have them turn 

 out to be counterparts of the commonplace 

 type I find in most of the public schools. The 

 boy who at the age of twelve is a good swim- 

 mer, a good sailor, fond of shooting, fishing, 

 and out-door sports, is able to read and write, 

 and has a genuine love and appreciation 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, ex- 

 cept on Sunday, when he is often too tired to 



