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He chuckled and chuckled and soon sat down by the table again, nodding his head with delight at the tales they were telling him. Meanwhile, another group entered, the Forest Children. The Forest Children are little girls and boys who live all by themselves in moss houses deep in the thickest of the forest, and know nothing of mothers, nurses or schools.
In this way the young mammals were given a much better chance to survive, because they learned many things from their mothers, as you will know if you have ever watched a cat teaching her kittens to take care of themselves and how to wash their faces and how to catch mice. But of these mammals I need not tell you much for you know them well. They surround you on all sides.
July 8. nothing particular today. you bet that baby can howl. went to church. July 9. brite and fair. most every morning we go up in mothers room to see the old fat woman wash the baby and hear it howl. it turns black in the face. i bet it will be a fiter.
As the party filed up, and we lifted tired girls and laughing mothers off the patient horses, I found that a lucky chance had thrown Maud and her brother Stephen into the same caravan.
The same preparation must be made by rich and poor. One young man who chanced to be born of rich or well-to-do parents, and one young lady the same, order their outfits, and they are paid for not unfrequently out of the usurious interest wrung from the fathers and mothers of the poorer young men and girls.
Were the womenkind, then, forced to sleep in the shelter of the stifling mud- huts as best they might? The fretful wail of a child from a low mud-roof answered the question. Where the children are the mothers must be also to look after them. They need care on these sweltering nights.
There is a sound of happy voices from the temple, and the steps are crowded with smiling mothers and laughing children. Entering, I find women and babies pressing about a lacquered table in front of the doorway. Upon it is a little tub-shaped vessel of sweet tea amacha; and standing in the tea is a tiny figure of Buddha, one hand pointing upward and one downward.
Luther Burbank shows that in order even for a plant to grow properly it must have abundance of sunshine, good air, and nourishing food; but not many mothers at this time may have even these poor luxuries. Instead, too many mothers are slaves to an insanitary kitchen where sunshine is scarcely known and where overwork and worry destroy all appetite for food.
It was a great sight and one that the boys will never forget. It seemed so good to see our own people again our pretty girls, our fond fathers, our dear mothers, our elderly folks, and even our street gamins. It gave us a feeling that we would like to take them all in our arms, for they were ours and we were theirs.
Dear old fathers and mothers! Of all the people in this world, they look through the rubbish of our imperfections, and see in us the divine ideal of our natures, love in us not perhaps the men we are, but the angels we may be in the evolution of the "sweet by and by," like the mother of St.
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