they formerly possessed; that saving, which seems quite
commendable in a comfortable part of town, appears almost criminal in a
poorer quarter where the next-door neighbor needs food, even if the
children of the family do not.

She feels the sordidness of constantly being obliged to urge the
industrial view of life. The benevolent individual of fifty years ago
honestly believed that industry and self-denial in youth would result in
comfortable possessions for old age. It was, indeed, the method he had
practised in his own youth, and by which he had probably obtained
whatever fortune he possessed. He therefore reproved the poor family for
indulging their children, urged them to work long hours, and was utterly
untouched by many scruples which afflict the contemporary charity
visitor. She says sometimes, "Why must I talk always of getting work and
saving money, the things I know nothing about? If it were anything else
I had to urge, I could do it; anything like Latin prose, which I had
worried through myself, it would not be so hard." But she finds it
difficult to connect the experiences of her youth with the experiences
of the visited family.

Because of this diversity in experience, the visitor is continually
surprised to find that the safest platitude may be challenged. She
refers quite naturally to the "horrors of the saloon," and discovers
that the head of her visited family does not connect them with "horrors"
at all. He remembers all the kindnesses he has received there, the free
lunch and treating which goes on, even when a man is out of work and not
able to pay up; the loan of five dollars he got there when the charity
visitor was miles away and he was threatened with eviction. He may
listen politely to her reference to "horrors," but considers it only
"temperance talk."

The charity visitor may blame the women for lack of gentleness toward
their children, for being hasty and rude to them, until she learns that
the standard of breeding is not that of gentleness toward the children
so much as the observance of certain conventions, such as the
punctilious wearing of mourning garments after the death of a child. The
standard of gentleness each mother has to work out largely by herself,
assisted only by the occasional shame-faced remark of a neighbor, "That
they do better when you are not too hard on them"; but the wearing of
mourning garments is sustained by the definitely expressed sentiment of
every woman in th