San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1893-10-11
THE HOME CORNER
BY JULIA TRUITT BISHOP.

I
Written for the LIGHT.
The other day | read a very
thoughtful and thought-provoking
article on the power of the mother
over the child. Many of us have
heard, and all have believed, that
"The hand that rocks the cradle
rules the world" but have we be-
lieved it to such an extent as this?
Listen: "The child is the creature
of circumstances. The mother can
clothe him in Jaeger wool from
head to foot, or keep him in low
neck, short sleeves and low stock
ings because she thinks it pretty q;
she can feed him exclusively on
raw beef, or on vegetables, or on
cereals; she can give him milk to
drink, or let him sip his fathers
beer and wine; put him to bed at
shutdown, or keep him up till mid
night; teach him the catechism
and the thirty-nine articles, or tell
him there is no God; she can
crowd him with facts before he
has any appetite or power of as
sanitation, or she can make fool
of him. She can dose him with
old school remedies, with new
school remedies, she can let him
die without any remedies, because
she doesn't believe in the reality of
disease"
Now this comes very near being
absolute power, does IL not?-this
power of mother over her child.
He was W: Sc man who said "Give
me the first six years of a child's
life, AMI | care not who has the
rest and who doubts that the
mother has the first six years, and
can do what she will with them?
She has even greater power than
indicated in the article quoted.
Why, yOnder is mother in one of
the vilest dens of the town, bring
ing up a child there to a life of in
fanny, with no one to modest. The
child is hers she is it's mother.
That establishes her absolute right
over it. Everybody can see that
among other surroundings it might
grow up to pure and honorable
life. Everybody knows the dis
honor and crime into which that
life will surely be plunged if it re-
mains where it is. And yet no one
interferes, because it's mother has
chosen, and her right is greater
than theirs.
About the streets goes begging
vagabOnd, pretending to sell trink
cts, but really living on the char
ity of the public, a charity which
she would never gain but for the
baby at her back. When the door
is open and no one is in sight, she
pliers what she can from halls
and vestibules. The child is hers,
and it happens to suit her to raise
it a begger and thief. The thrill
of pity at your heart as you gaze
at the baby's swarthy, innocent
little face and bright eyes is alto
gether in vain. While you dream
of what he might be, under other
circumstances, and long to give
him a chance for it, there is his
vagabond mother to tell you what
he shall be; and against her judg-
ment there is no appeal.
"Who owns the childw Can
there be any doubt? Why here is a
mother who has ordained that her
little girl, who was given to her as
a grand and solemn gift, to be re-
turned to the Giver some day, shall
be petted, vain had pretentiOus
fool, with not an idea above dress
and society, with not an unselfish
thought, or a genuine feeling of
mercy for others. 1t is sad to
look on and see the possibilities of
a lovely life so thwarted, but what
is one to do? The woman is the
mother Of this child, and the child
| = In YNff