Does YOUR Boy Share the Lure, the Thrill, the Un¬ 
forgettable Happiness of Your Outdoor Hours? Do 
You Make a Chum of Him and Give Him Lessons in True Sportsnlan- 
ship That He May Grow Up Conscious of His Responsibilities in Thi 
Great Field? Is His Affection for You Based on the Wonderful ^ lu ~ 
ences of Fine Comradeship? . . . • Once Again We Fare Forth With Two 
u/hn Fnnnrl It a Spiritual Investment. 
By W. LIVINGSTON LARNED 
I T was during a temporary lull on 
the edge of our lagoon around the 
Key, where mangrove snappers 
were to be caught if we ever succeeded 
in discovering the correct combination, 
that I happened to remember “Moth¬ 
er’s” letter. It had been handed to 
me in the rush of getting away that 
morning, and continuous rush ever 
since had pushed it into the back¬ 
ground. 
Mike, the negro boatman, was tell¬ 
ing Sonnyboy a few facts concerning 
actions of tides, and the home life of 
our venerable friend, the Pelican. It 
was a propitious moment for me to 
slip out the letter and read it. At the 
risk of being accused of divulging an 
almost sacred personal document, I will 
allow the reader to glance over my 
shoulder: 
“Something more wonderful, more 
spiritually beautiful has taken place 
than you will ever quite realize, per¬ 
haps. My heart is sp filled with it 
that I find myself filling closely-written 
pages, and if there’s a suspicious blur, 
now and again, making words illegi¬ 
ble, you will know that it was caused 
by tears. A moment I have yearned 
for, prayed for, has come true. 
“Late yesterday, Sonnyboy’s third 
letter reached me, enclosing the picture 
you took of him standing on the dock 
at Soldier Key, with his very first 
string of fish. He confesses that he 
steals off by himself and writes these 
lengthy letters to his Mother, because, 
if you happened to read one of them, 
you might think him ‘babyish’ over his 
state of mind. 
“These letters of his are filled with 
grains of gold. In years to come, you 
will read and treasure them. They will 
give you a sudden tug at the heart, 
long after Sonnyboy has ceased to be 
‘your little son’, and is a man in his 
own estate. 
“Every line . . . every word, echoes 
his supreme joy. He speaks less of 
himself, however, than of YOU. It’s 
all about ‘Father’ . . . how Father 
has been so kind, so considerate . . . 
how Father has taken him everywhere 
. . . how Father really trusted him to 
take the wheel of the motor-boat . . . 
how Father hadn’t 
scolded or been cross— 
not ONCE! 
“To him, Father is 
‘lots better company’ than any of his 
boy friends. Father is ‘bully good, 
and a real sport.’ Father knows 
everything about fishing and camping 
and hunting. He never knew ‘just 
what fun Father was—BEFORE,’ 
Father, Father, always his Father. 
He idolizes you. Now that his bond 
of love is complete, with my affection 
and your awakened resposibility al¬ 
ways uppermost in his mind—and 
heart . . . nothing really serious could 
happen to Sonnyboy. Love keeps a 
boy sweet and clean. I have always 
known it, with a Mother’s intuition, 
although there are moments when I 
feel, in the case of a boy, the love of 
the boy for his Father is even a greater 
safeguard and a stronger tie. To a 
boy, his Father is an ideal, a species 
of god . . . something to look up to 
and admire, glorify, place upon a high 
pedestal. 
“Do you appreciate that this trans- 
up 
™ ' 2 * 8 ? o= D bIM-SS clump 0? 
rr'Tl I r’ 17 ’ Q 
Page 296 
