The San Francisco call., 1906-04-01
To the Editor of The Call:

To the Editor of The Call:
Recently the papers quoted at length the
growing alarm felt by the wise and great
men of the country over. the refusal OF the
American woman to rear large families,
or to rear any families. In reply women
of the Four Hundred-women Of. culture
wealth and refinement-have taken upon
themse Ives to deny the imPutation. but
these women represent only an infinitely
small part of the great mass Of American
wives and, mothers. Would 1t not.oe wise
of these people to probe somewhat deeper
into the matter before they condemn the
mass of American women?
Perhaps the following little experience.
which is simply the average one OF mil
lion or more of American wives. will
prove to be something Of a revelation 10
these deep thinkers and speakers;
Born in a comfortable home and brought
UP in the old-fashioned way that the mid
die class daughter is usually brought up
I went a couple of years to the high
school, learned to play blue Bells'-or
was it Down Went McGinty ?-on the
piano, made many Of my cheaper dresses
and cooked my fathers dinner. Likewise
I went to the theater. occasionally TO
dance, visited my girl friends, attended
the services OF my church and worked
faithfully on one or more of the mission
ary committees or other societies Of the
church, and gave the rest OF my time to
my beloved books.
When John and settled down life was
very much the same. only cooked John
dinner now-and, parenthetically, / want
to say right now, after ten years Of mar
ried life, John is just the ideal American
husband. which means a true comrade
and the very best husband in the world.
ENTER, BABY NO. ONE.
After a year or so we were joint pos
SCISSORS of the dearest little pink morsel Of
humanity that ever graced home And
what an upheavar she created
Now, John has just 800 a month, which
forms. the income of great many more
families than any larger sum- When the
rent is paid for the small fiat, consisting
of kitchen, diiing-room, bedroom, living
room and the tiny. seven-by-nine called
spare room; good, Wholesome. food; plain
neat clothing and other. expenses are
met, and a little put away for the rainy
day, there isn't anything left for a SER
want, so, in common with a few million
other women, do my own work.
With the coming of the little lady I
found it necessary to wash her clothing
(having scruples against sending it to
the public laundry with ours), to bathe
and dress her on Monday, Tuesday, We'd
nesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and
Sunday From 6 o'clock in the morning
till o'clock in the evening. at intervals
of two or three hours, had to stop dust
ing or sweeping or ironing or cooking or
dishwashing or sewing or any Of the
other small daily duties, to- nurse her or
give her other needed attention Be-
lieving that the sun and fresh air In my
eleven by twenty foot back yard were
healthier than the dusty street or heated
rooms of my friends 1 got into way Of
spending afternoons out there with a
needed bit of sewing. besides. somehow
or other I seemed to be too tired to
dress up and go visiting and carry baby
and get home and cook supper.
Once when we went to wedding the
old nurse who cared for her fed her gin
instead of the bottle of sterilized milk 1
had left to be warmed; another day my
dear old auntie told me with deep joy
how baby had slipped so much strong
black coffee in my absence.
Even the best baby wakes once In the
night and sometimes 1 could not sleep
for an hour or two. and SO was cross
and irritable the next morning In our
earlier married life the hour after dinner
was the most dearly priced by John and
me- Then we discussed the principal
items In the daily paper, the books We
were reading, the last concert or per-
formance we had seen. some good-natured