the American atmosphere, social or otherwise, the horrid little minx
blossoms out into a charming and womanly girl, with just enough of
independence to make her piquant; the cross and dyspeptic little boy
becomes a courteous and amiable man. Some sort of a moral miracle
seems to take place about the age of fourteen or fifteen; a violent
dislocation interrupts the natural continuity of progress; and,
presto! out springs a new creature from the modern cauldron of Medea.

The reason--or at any rate one reason--of the normal attitude of the
American parent towards his child is not far to seek. It is almost
undoubtedly one of the direct consequences of the circumambient spirit
of democracy. The American is so accustomed to recognise the essential
equality of others that he sometimes carries a good thing to excess.
This spirit is seen in his dealings with underlings of all kinds, who
are rarely addressed with the bluntness and brusqueness of the older
civilisations. Hence the father and mother are apt to lay almost too
much stress on the separate and individual entity of their child, to
shun too scrupulously anything approaching the violent coercion of
another's will. That the results are not more disastrous seems owing
to a saving quality in the child himself. The characteristic American
shrewdness and common sense do their work. A badly brought up American
child introduced into a really well-regulated family soon takes his
cue from his surroundings, adapts himself to his new conditions, and
sheds his faults as a snake its skin. The whole process may tend to
increase the individuality of the child; but the cost is often great,
the consequences hard for the child itself. American parents are
doubtless more familiar than others with the plaintive remonstrance:
"Why did you not bring me up more strictly? Why did you give me so
much of my own way?" The present type of the American child may be
described as one of the experiments of democracy; that he is not a