The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1893-12-17

Have children any rights that grown
people are bound to respect?
The question sounds startling. Ger
tainiy children have rights. aud if any
class OF human beings get their rights it is
the children" is the answer one indignant
| grown person made TO me recently when l
| put the question TO Ter.
| Now, I've no doubt but that she thought
she spoke the truth, but my mind at once
reverted when she spoke to q scene in
which she played a prominent part. 1t
was at the supper table in her own house.
1 was her guest, among others. and there
was also present my friends niece, q
child of perhaps seven years. who was
visiting her auntie, as 1t was vacation
| time. The little one was shy and quiet,
but behaved at table like the little lady
she was
"Margie," said her auntie. pass the
toast 10 Mrs Blank, dear"
Embarrassed, but eager to be of service,
Margie reached out her little arm and Sc
cured the toast-plate. which she passed in
| safeiy to the lady indicated. In drawing
back her hand, however, her elbow struck
| silver mug of milk that stood beside her
! plate and its contents were thrown to the
| floor.
"Margie! Margie you careless childr'
| L
! the table at once" And crimson checked
and mortified Margie crept out of the room.
Perhaps five minutes later the servant
who was waiting upon the table stood al
my right elb0w with a cup of tea for N.Y.
self. To take 1t with my left hand was an
| awkward affair, but could have managed
| It easily enough had not carelessly turned
10 answer a question at the same time. AS
result took the cup hastily, few drops
| of the hot tea splashed over nv hand and
dropped cup and saucer, spilling the tea
| and breaking the cup.
Of course l was confused and apologize,
| but III Is OF no consequence" my hostess
FASTENED to say, and W hen the girl had left
the room for brush and dustpan to gather
up the fragments she said: 1T was all
| the awkwarGness Of the servant. j shall
never be able 20 teach her to pass things
properly. Really you could hardly have
helped the accident
Now, knew very well that / had been
| careless; that there was no excuse but
carelessness for my accident. also knew,
as my friend must. that Margie's mishap
had been pure. almost un n voidable acct
| dent. My hostess, too, severely as she
spoke OF the servant, would not for the
world have been guilty of rebuking her
before strangers. She would have been
the first to consider such conduct wrong.
But the crushed, brOken-hearted baby,
who could not be expected to have the
I
through EN- Embarrassment which caused her
| to forget the cup at her elbow; whose very
! helplrssness made the shame OF being re-
buked before auntie's guests more shame
| full, and who, in point of fact, was a guest
equally with the most honorable of the
others. was sent hurt and Inundated,
| from the room.
1t seemed a terrible pity. And yet I
| have seen such q scene, as doubtless has
every reader OF The CALL. many time
| times in the future. There are few among
| those who have the charge of these little
| friends OF ours who really think the chill
dren are entitled to the same courteous
trea tment we accord grown person. In re-
ality they should receive more tender cOur-
| tesy IL for no other reason than tn at they
are at our mercy, and that it is our manner
toward them hat Is Influencing and direct
| ing their conduct toward others.
We expect more of children than we do
OF grown people. We expect hem to make
less noise. to be more circumspect in their
behavior, TO exercise greater self-conIrol
than We demand of ourselves or of our
! equals.
/ once saw an irate mother punish a
child who had just been rescued from
drowning. The little one had been COM
ing home from school, and having to cross
frozen creek. had, child-like, left the
bridge and ventured across on the ice. 1t
broke beneath her weight, and but for the
presence OF mind of big boy the fve-year-
old baby would have drowned. As Ii was
she was brought home wet frightened,
chilled and bysterical, and was put to bed
without her supper ito teach her to keep
off the ice." AS though the accident itself
were not lesson enough, without laying
upon the little heart a burden of resent
ment which that child. now grown to
won ans estate, tells me she has never for
gotten.
Do you think this an ifolated case of
unreas enable punishment? / once saw
mother shake her baby because 1t would
n OF nurse, and Herbert Spencer, the great
English philosopher, tells of witnessing a
similar Occurrences. Perhaps the greatest
wrongs children are compelled to endure,
ncomplainin ely, are against their personal
dignity and their property righS.
Do you think children haven't sense of
personal dignity? l knew little eight
year-old girl who used to suffer agonies of
shame because of photograph of herself.
aged one year, taken In a little knitted
shirt. and which, enlarged, hung in con-
spicuous place in her mothers parlor. The
child used to beg and plead that the pic
ture be taken down and put out of sight,
until one day, irritated by another weep
ing protest. the mother suddenly turned
and gave the child whipping and told her
the picture should stay there forever to
punish her for her naughtiness. The little
one attached very little weight to the whip-
ping, but begged plte0usly that the "life
sentence" be lifted. please don't say
forever, mammal she urged. "P!ease
take it backp And the mol her told the
story to me as good joke on the child!
A gentleman related to me recently, as
one of the most humiliating recolections
of his childhood, how, at the age of seven,
having hurt himself very badly in a way
that prevented him for some time from en-
gazing in active play, and fancying him.
self entitled TO little consideration there
for, one evening after school be invited a
number of his playmates home with him
for an impromptu party. "My grand
mother was in the kitchen baking griddle-
cakes" he said, when we came trooping
in. She called me to her and asked me
what 1t meant. l explained. whereupon,
without saying a word to me, she stepped
to the door, and waving her cake-turner
which she held in her hand, said: Chill
dren, run right home. Harry did not