age of thirty-five man emerges from his rawness and becomes a part of
trained humanity--a humanity composed of men and women trained in the
art of living together.

I am impressed with Professor Horton's remarks on this subject: "It
has sometimes struck me as very singular," he says, "that while
nothing is so common and nothing is so difficult as living with other
people, we are seldom instructed in our youth how to do it well. Our
knowledge of the subject is acquired by experience, chiefly by
failures. And by the time that we have tolerably mastered the delicate
art, we are on the point of being called to the isolation of the
grave--or shall I say to the vast company of the Majority?

"But an art of so much practical moment deserves a little more
consideration. It should not be taught by chance, or in fragments, but
duly deployed, expounded, and enforced. It is of far more pressing
importance, for example, than the art of playing the piano or the
violin, and is quite as difficult to learn.

"It is written, 'It is not good that man should be alone'; but, on the
other hand, it is often far from good to be with him. A docile cat is
preferable, a mongoose, or even a canary. Indeed, for want of proper
instruction, a large number of the human race, as they are known in
this damp and foggy island, are 'gey ill to live wi',' and no one
would attempt it but for charity and the love of God."

Now who but women are responsible for the training of men? If the
mother has neglected her obvious duty in training her son to be a
livable portion of humanity, who but the girls must take up her lost
opportunities? It is with the class of men whose mothers _have_