THE RED BLOOD OF THE THE NATION.

White Ribbon, Volume 25, Issue 295, 19 January 1920, Page 7

THE RED BLOOD OF THE THE NATION.

(By Xuise Chappell.)

Kuskin s.i> s: “It may be discovered that the true 'eins of wealth are purple and not in ro< k, but in flesh perhaps even that the final outcome and consummation of all wealth is in the producing as many as possible lull blooded, bright -eyed, happyhearted human creatures.” Even then, kuskin perceived wherein lay the true wealth of nations. It has needed the stupendous war to teach us, and still we are like tv mythical \ .in Winkle, slowly, shaking ourselves and rubbing our eyes. Motherhood, we have at last decided, is the cninei stone of the future Kmpire, hut whilst we daily mothers pc» : sh. The ‘‘life builders" are undoubtedly the Kmpire builders of the future. The first step, it seems to me, is to relieve the physical strain which is not only crushing the higher attributes of motherhood out of so many mothers, but is making them physically unfit foi this high office. The more “life building" mothers do, the more manual laboui is thrust upon them; and whilst the finest type of mothers respond willingly, this fact still remains that, generally speaking, the human “life builders" have the smallest chance of all workers to concentiate tl.eii best efloitx to proclut e the most perfect building, and no pie paratoiv knowledge or training is given as to the best methods. It has become so common in our eyes this “life" being nbkh it to “fearfully and wonderfully made" that the glory of it has been dragged in tbc dust. For our Umpire's sake, if for no higher motive, we must lift it into the plat e of hon< ur and dignity whi.h i- due to the greatest of all mir e ie* that has evei been or ever can be.

To al'er this, the mental vision of wh.it can be and what aught to be must be given to each man and woman. One writer says: “As a mother my dignity is supreme, for I am sculptress of the rate, the archi tect of humanity. My body is the temple, the holy of holies wherein arc fashioned into indelible shape, for weal or woe, the children who arc to come. My | art is difficult, but I will not flinch. I must be as strong a* the oak ' n the bleakest hill, and ten der and sweet and pure as the flowei that blooms in the valley below, hot

freedom’s sake I must be free, for I am sculptress, architect of humanity, its citadel, its oak, its blossom. I am woman, mother and moulder of the race.” Note the wolds “For freedom’s sake I must be free.” No true woman wants a fieedoni which is contrary to the highei good of the fu ture race. But every true woman, in her soul, demands the freedom which will ensure the best for tin* coming generation. (lover'iin.ents and laws can never produce* ibis. They <an assist by going knowledge and free dom to this end, but as surely as na tions are built up on homes true homes -so surclv are tree homes built up on the conditions which will pio cilice the kind of children of Buskin’s vision. There is too much honour give n to tiie patriotism shown by flag Axing, biass bands, and sitting on this committee 01 the other, and too little honour given to the patriotism of a good father who nobly helps bis ovei burdened wile and trains bis • bildien that fhev max be good citizens in the futuie. He is called a “milk sop or “is tied to his wife’s apron strings.’’ Both kinds of patriotism are needed, hut the home kind brings the* soundest returns in the long run, both in his own happiness and in the welfare of the* nation, and his c hildren will know how to honour all women because of the honour thex have seen their father give to the Oueen of tl c home, their mother. Many a mother has said to me: “I love* my children, but I have no time to enjoy them and train them as I would like. It C it xt a scramble from earlr morning to late at night t*> do what is ahsolutelx necessary for a family. By the time I have cooked and washed and done* the- necessary house work, attending to the baby and children in between.

I am that fagged and irritable that I am thankful to bundle them into bed as quickly as possible to get a few minutes’ space. I used to be quite a good-natured person. I don’t know what has come to me.” Then a few tears steal cpiickly down her cheeks, which ihe qiuckly wipes away, helping I haven’t xc*rn them, and she* goes on : “Then 1 trv to do their patching and mending, or make a few tilings whilst thev are in bed often inio the* small lvmrs of the morning.” “But." '

have said, “you need your rest. In fact, you cannot successfully nurse your baby unless you have nourishing food and proper rest.” “Oh ! Yes.

I know that is so, she replied, “because when l have a bit of a spell, like when my sister comes an I 1 me, I have plenty of good milk, and baby is that good I don’t know what to make of it. Still, it can’t be help ed. It’s got to be clone. I must try to send the c hildren decent to sihonl, so it's no use talking about n. 1* baby won't thrive while I work like this, then I must put him cm tic bottle that's all. How one’s heart aches for inch mothers, silently, bravely pegging on, with no human eye to see, often, and no human voice l to applaud! Added to these thingi> the torture of mind because thex have*, “not time to he the kind ot mothers they would like to be*. lust as it needs leisure to be* cultmed « S< 1 it needs leisure to give the line* c id lure of motherhood to theii < hildre n* The mental picture which some <d us treasure is in sharp contrast to that of children being “bundled into bed as cpiickly as possible.” A white bed, .1 sweet mother face, .1 gentle voie e, a xvhitc* robed hnx figure kneeling down at the shrine ot that niothci s knees, bands clasped, exes closed, the gentle voice is hcaid to i\ “(lenth* Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little child.” I he* c hildtsh voice repeats it word tor word. Then comes the more intimate part of the prayer. The c hildish naughtiness «»t the* d.ix is confessed and followed by tbc* prayer lor forgiveness. With the ‘\men !” all sense of xxrotig has Hr I (ientlc hands tuck that litile one s, I«• and snug in bed, followed bx the good night kiss from that gentle, xxisc mother. No king on his throne could compare in happiness with th ’ child. I.et me assure you, the* sxxccl mot herliness s in most of these work driven mothers, though in different degrees, according to character, and it adds to her burden, because the* mother has not the* leisure to give 1 expression. I'hink of the love starved children, robbed of theii birthright of love! Childhood is the time to forge the* chains of love and confidence, and every link in that chain will need to he sound and true when the time of temptation conics to hold them steady and secure. Mothers, have a set time when you “down vour tools." and give your children their birthright of love*, il all the world ha- to stand still and wait whilst \ou do «o. Bedtime is the* most seductive time* for childish confidence's, .nd when little resales-

creatures are weary with then pl.n and ready t" be loved and caressed, l athers, I plead, don't lose vour share in tins precious, time, when most of the chaiactor-building is done of the men and women to be. Vour gold, if Rot at tin* expense of this, will be as dust and ashes in your month in tlx years to come. In giving a lecture to mothers in Ce-ntial Otago, 1 said, the Bible talks about the joyful mothers of children: that is what we ought to have, and what the Plunkct Societx is trying to hriiiß about joyful mothers of healthx and normal children. “Do you know anx joxful mothers of children?” 1 asked. A pause, and then one mother said: ”1 know one, but she lives .it St. Clair.’ 1 was very inter ested in this joxful mother, and in quircd what kind of a husband she had. I found be is a lover still. Is this one of the secret causes of so little joy in motherhood that hus hands have' (eased t< be lovers? When one lemt-mbeis that childhood is the most impressionable time of one’s whole life, we oußht to realise how imperative it is that children should be surrounded by ioyousiiess, rightness, and brißhtness, that they mißht drink it in a s the dowers the dew. One writer says: “Vet the first seven years! Oh, the ineffacable, inet.Klieahle memories of these earlier wars, cut deep inio the plastic ntind of a little child! Those who Ruide and mould the cuttinß should remem her they are monldinß for eternity, and cut hißh and holy thinßs which are noble and true. Half a century heme, when what has intervened has faded and been forßOtten, the men of to morrow will look back and remem her Hie Rood or ill the most passinß thinß said to the child of to-day.’ Thomas Bracken, in his poem on “Woman’s Rights,” says: T'is woman’s rißht, ere we prepare To battle' in life’s van, To shape our future destinies And mould the mind of men; And here, where Were erecting on Pacific’s breath, a State, The mothers of our rising race Can make it poor or great. If we realised more the power of the monldinß of the mind, as well as of lie body, durinß this huildinß | cried, there would be fewer problems for our future statesmen to solve. It the mind is so plastic and impressionable durinß early childhood, how much more so durinß th« period referred to? Is not mind the product of mind, even

il rot mi materially. Mind influences mind. I here fore it is incumbent on those responsible in the nature of tliuißN to ensure th.it the mind of the mother is peaceful, joyous, and happy. Then, we should not be hiamiiiß < a dead ard Rone ancestors who cannot st.ind up and defend themselves poor thinß'. for many of the contrary, re scntful, and inexplicable characters liis to be seen in Nome children. We do not dream of cxoncratinß i ur an cestors from blame neither will fu tuie generations exonerate un but our ancestry have enoiißh blame due to them without Riviiiß them that i\ hi h then have not earned.