a reproach hurled by suffragettes at archaic antis (I don't intend a pun). With the cradle an antique, the grave naturally becomes merely a literary allusion. "From incubator to urn" will probably replace the present phrase. Baby-talk, too, is fast becoming a dead language. Centuries hence there may be revivals of it, as with Gaelic, from records preserved in monasteries.

I think, dear Gertie, you may regard the case as settled out of court, the charge of frivolity against you, the typical young New York matron, as dismissed. And now for one word in your private ear. In your laudable passion for eugenics, don't forget that mystic something that is not to be learned from works on pedagogy or any treatise written by the hand of man-no, or woman either. Recently I attended a lecture on the "Art of Telling Stories to Children" by a woman who had made a life-study of the subject. There was an indescribable pathos

Dear Sir:

in watching the audience of mothers and teachers, mentally alert, sentimentally atrophied, imaginatively deplete, pencils and note-books in hand, taking down a cut-anddried formula for "Once Upon a Time!" Remember that it was a motherly hearted wolf with no views whatever on asepsis that suckled a pair of historic twins. And Romulus lived to build Rome (though not in a day, which our darling could do perfectly now that steel construction has come in), and finally was taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot, though of course we should n't like little Frederic to do that! Hang your walls if you will with tables of dietetics, but give space there also to the "Annunciation" with its lilies. Love and respect you always will merit from your son. But let him also associate the word mother with that indefinable exquisiteness a Frenchman breathes into "Ma Mère!" Your loving cousin,

Grace Durham.

To spoil a boy at college is not so easy a problem as you may at first be inclined to think. Nature is quick and resolute in the defense of her works, and it is only by a systematic and persistent course of folly and neglect that the average college

freshman can be turned into a young man capable of making his father regret the money he has spent upon his son's education.

The first principle to be kept in mind-and in fact the only principle, from which every other rule of parental conduct may be deduced-may be formulated in a few words: start with the assumption that as soon as your boy's matriculation fees have been paid, all responsibility for his future, on your part, lapses. Henceforth, to fall into what I generally regard as a deplorable vulgarism, it is "up to us" whether your son shall return to his father's house, after four years, a modest, well-equipped, industrious youth, eager for the responsibilities of manhood, or whether he shall return to you in the guise which makes angry parents write letters to the newspapers asking, "What is the Matter with Our Colleges?" Even as I write, it occurs to me that the principle I have enunciated may not be unfamiliar to you. You

were probably acting up to its implications when you sent your boy to a preparatory school, and, before that, when he went from kindergarten into the elementary classes. If there is anything more striking than the unanimity with which our democracy shifts the responsibilities of parenthood to the shoulders of governesses, school-teachers, and college-professors, it is the indignant surprise that is usually exhibited by parents when they contemplate the result.

Once your boy has been installed in the most expensive suite of rooms in the most select dormitory or fraternity house in town, and has exhausted his ingenuity in furnishing his quarters so as to suggest the combined atmosphere of a boudoir, a beer-hall, and a Turkish bath, you must lose no time in buying him an automobile. I speak with more than ordinary feeling on this point because it is a matter that does not affect your boy alone. Every time your son runs into a trolley-car or a ditch, he not only reflects credit on himself, but brings an enviable notoriety to his college. A sixty-horse-power motor-car in the hands of a freshman is, to me, the most efficient instrument for imbuing him with the disrespect for sobriety of living, the

disregard of authority, and the lack of consideration for others' feelings, which are the most common gifts that a university bestows upon its sons. Short of setting a tradesman's house on fire, I can think of no better means for bringing an undergraduate's name into the newspapers. And what that will do to turn a charming boy into a disagreeable young man, I need not call to your attention. Once you have shipped your son off to college, never take time from your business to drop in on him for a day's visit. I recognize that such time as you can spare from the daily grind of affairs must be devoted to Masonic meetings, the annual G. A. R. Reunion at Denver, the annual Knights of Pythias Convention at Memphis, Tennessee, the annual Bankers' Convention at Atlantic City, the annual Foreign Missions Convention at San Francisco, and the biennial gathering of the State political clubs at Cincinnati. Give your son every chance for growing out of sympathy with his home and its ideals, so that, if by accident you do make your appearance at his dormitory quarters, he will feel ashamed to introduce you to his classmates. Once a month write him a letter, dictated to your stenographer, in some such terms as these:

Dear James: Yours of the eighteenth at hand and contents, including bill for refurnishing rooms and repairing automobile, duly noted. Glad to hear you are having a good time and hope to hear the same from you in subsequent letter.

Your loving

Father.

No young man can go on submitting detailed vouchers like the one I have cited without losing all sense of responsibility and proportion. For the purpose of undermining a young man's thrift, I am not sure but that this method of monthly accounting is better than no accounting at all. In every way, I repeat, you must proceed on the supposition that your son, as soon as he leaves college, will not only find somebody to pay all his bills, but somebody who will save him the trouble of looking over his bills or the necessity of recalling dim memories of the multiplication-table.

As to the young man's studies, you must so regulate your conduct as to avoid rousing in him the slightest suspicion that your plans in sending him to college were in any way connected with the subject of books. A kindly word of congratulation when the boy has made the base-ball team or won his 'varsity letter will of course make him very happy. But you cannot venture to quiz him upon what progress he is making in his classes without conveying to him a painful sense of your provincial outlook. In other words, you must learn to acquiesce cheerfully in the doctrine which now holds almost universal sway, that, for whatever purpose a young man goes to college nowadays, it is not for the purpose of learning anything. Pin your faith to the truth so eloquently expounded in contemporary magazine literature, that the boys who hate books worst turn out to be the true leaders of men, conquerors of women's hearts, and beloved favorites of Success. You need not depend on magazine fiction alone. There has grown up of late a cheerful and convenient school of statisticians who love to prove that it is precisely the undergraduate who spells "catch" without a "t" and thinks that Joseph was one of the three young men in the fiery furnace, who makes the best lawyer, doctor, or clergyman. It is true that the official statistics published by college secretaries contradict this gratifying contention; but you must leave the latter fact out of your consideration.

on

After four years of some such policy or your part as I have outlined, I have not the slightest doubt that you will find your son as thoroughly disappointing an example of manhood as the most careful neglect and the most conscientious ignorance can make him. Sincerely yours,

Theophilus Bickersteth.

HAVE some material here I wish to exI change-I say I have-Will you kindly wait on me?-Busy?-I have some-Now, I must be waited on; I'm in a great hurry! Oh, very well. I have some material here I wish to exchange. It 's marquisette, but it is n't the right shade. Not marquisette? - Chiffon marquisine? Well, I don't care if it's linsey-woolsey! I want to exchange it, or rather, return it.-No, I don't have a charge account, I want the money back. Please give it to me quickly. I'm going to a matinee.--What! You can't take it back here? I must go to the desk? Why, I bought it here, right at this counter, of that thin girl with the hectic flush. She does n't look well, does she? She ought to go to some good sanatorium. Well, you see this chitton, or whatever it is, is the wrong shade. I asked for elephant's breath, and this is

more on the shade of frightened mouse. It does n't match my satin at all.-Oh, dear, how unaccommodating you are! Well, where is the desk? Ask the floor-walker? Oh, very well!-Please direct me to the desk.-What desk? I don't know, I'm sure! dny desk will suit me! I want to return some goods that does n't match my own material, and you know, this season, if-Near the rear door?-Of course they 'd put it as far away as possible!

Is this the exchange desk? Well, I want to return this piece of goods.-Oh, no! It is n't soiled! That's the original color. Frightened mice often look soiled when they 're not at all! Yes, that is the name! No, it is n't taupe, nor mode, nor steel common, it's just frightened mouse. I can carry colors in my eye just like an artist. Now it

does n't matter what color it is, anyway, for it's the wrong color!-Cut off the piece? Of course it's cut off the piece! There's two yards and a half of it-Remnant? No, it was not! I don't buy leftovers!-Then you can't change it? Well, come to think, maybe it was a remnant. Yes, I believe it was! I don't often get them, but this just matched my satin,-I mean it did n't match my satin, and that 's why I bought it. No I mean-well, anyway, I want to return it. -Had it a long time? Well, I could n't help that! The dressmaker disappointed me, that is, I had to go to some bridge parties and things unexpectedly, so I had to put her off. But the minute she pinned it on the pattern, I saw it was the wrong shade. Pinholes in it? Nonsense!

They

don't show. Of course we had to pin it. Seems to me you 're making a lot of fuss about a simple exchange-I mean a return. I'd like the money back at once.-A credit check? No, I want the money, I have n't any with me, because I depended on getting this. What! You don't give back the money? Why, it says in your advertisements, "Satisfaction given or money refunded."-Some other shop? Well, I'm sure I thought it was this shop that did that or I'd never have bought the stuff here! Rules? Regulations?-Oh, dear! Well then, take it and give me a credit check

Yes, I'll sign my name! Dear me, what a lot of red tape! I suppose you have to go through all this to keep from being swindled. Yes, that 's my name and address.

Now, can I get anything in the store for this check? Why, that 's rather fun! Seems as if you were giving it to me for nothing! Oh, how pretty that chiffon looks as you hold it up to the light! Do you know, it does n't match my satin, but it would go beautifully with my voile gown, and I want that made over. I do believe. I 'd better keep it. It was a good bargain, I remember. I wonder if it would match it. I'm sure it would,-I carry colors in my eye so well, and it's a lovely quality. I think, if you please, I'll take it back. What, sign my name again? Well, there, I 've signed off again. My! it's like going to law or a divorce court,-not that I've ever done either, and, after this experience, I hope I never shall! But just hold that stuff up again. Oh, now that they 've turned on the electrics, it's a totally different shade! Oh, I don't want it now at all! Can't you turn off the lights again? I'd no idea it was getting so late!-Oh, well, if you 're going to be disagreeable, I'll take it, then. The value is nothing at all to me! My husband is a prosperous broker. Yes, I'll take it. Please send it home for me, and if I don't like it when I get it, I'll send it back,