call for them. It will mean an effort on the part of the father, but it brings a reward, for his daughter, feeling herself guarded and protected, develops into a finer type of woman.

The girl in her teens is interested always in the influence of the passions and emotions upon the physical nature, and knowledge given in a simple direct way is good for her.

“Why do some people get very pale and others very red, when they are angry?” asked a fourteen-year-old girl one day.

“Sometimes you tremble when you are angry,” said another; “and you usually talk very fast,” added a third. The discussion which followed was interesting and helpful. They were astonished at the reports made by physicians and students of the effect upon digestion of angry words, or sullen silence, during dinner. They learned in a new way the value of the temper controlled, and of self-mastery in all lines. They were interested enough to bring into class instances of self-control under trying circumstances, and of calamities following complete loss of control for only a few minutes. I think they realized in a new way the majesty of the perfect self-control of Christ in the most trying moments of his life. We talked over with profit the effect upon the physical life, of hurry, of fear, of worry and useless anxiety, and have tried to find why the Christ was free from them all. The conclusions reached by the girls themselves have been helpful in every instance.

As long as we live, the physical will be with us; it is not to be despised, but respected; not to be ignored, but developed; not to be abused, but used. It demands obedience, and exacts penalty when its laws are broken. It is so complicated that no one can understand it. We may study and analyze, but how much of the physical is mental, and how much of the spiritual is physical, no one to-day is able to say. Of this we may be sure,—the physical side of the girl in her teens is a tremendous force that must be reckoned with, and demands for its fullest development and her future well being all the sympathy, patience, and wisdom that parents and teachers can supply.

CHAPTER III—THE MENTAL SIDE

The girl in her teens does think. She has been called careless, thoughtless, inattentive and a day-dreamer. Though these things are often true of her, she is on the whole a thinker. Her day-dreams are thoughtful. In building her air castles she uses memory and imagination, and sometimes one wonders if these factors to which we owe so much do not get as valuable training from “dreams” as from algebra. Certain it is that many women who have helped make the world a more comfortable place in which to live laid plans for their future work on sweet spring days, or long autumn afternoons when Latin grammar faded away in the distance, and things vital, near, and real came to take its place.

When Lucy Larcom stood by the noisy loom in the rush and whirl of the big factory, day-dreaming while her busy hands fulfilled their task, memory and imagination were being trained, and one morning the world read the day-dream. At first it was a picture of flowers and fields and cloudless skies, then it came back to the tenements on the narrow streets and said:

    “If I were a sunbeam,
      I know where I’d go,
    Into lowliest hovels,
      Dark with want and woe.
    Till sad hearts looked upward,
      I would shine and shine.
    Then they’d think of heaven,
      Their sweet home and mine.”

This and many another gem the imagination of the factory girl wrought out beside the loom.

The day-dreams, the “castles” reared by the imagination of girlhood, must find expression, and they do—in diaries, “literary productions” and poems at which we sometimes smile.

But who shall say that the mental side of the girl in her teens does not get as much valuable training through the closely written journal pages, or the carefully wrought poem which perhaps no one may ever see, as through the “daily theme” or the essay written according to an elaborate outline, carefully criticized by the teacher. The ambitions of the adolescent girl along literary lines often receive a rude shock when her essay is returned with red lines drawn through what, to her, are the most effective adjectives and most beautiful descriptions.

Many a literary genius has been destroyed by the red lines of an unimaginative instructor. But there are some wise enough to allow the girl to express herself in true adolescent fashion, criticizing only when errors in punctuation, sentence formation or spelling occur, and letting her gradually outgrow the glaring wealth of imagery that is the right of every girl in her teens.

But the adolescent girl does not think in “dreams” alone. She thinks in the hard terms of the practical and the every day. Her mental life, expanding and enlarging, is stirred to unusual activity, as is her physical nature, and she makes so many discoveries absolutely new to her that she thinks them new to all. She gives information of all sorts to her family and expects respectful attention. She knows more than her mother, criticizes her father, gives advice to her grandmother, and is willing to decide all questions for the younger members of the family. She has a new idea of her own importance, and sees herself magnified.

It seems but yesterday since she was just a little girl, willing to be guided, directed, ruled by her elders. Now she resents the direct command, persists in asking “why,” and is not satisfied with “because I think best.” She chafes under strict discipline, rebels openly, sulks, or yields with an air of desperate resignation when her dearest desires are denied. She thinks she knows best. That is her chief trouble. The things she wants to do seem best to her,—she thinks they will mean her real happiness, therefore she chooses them. That were she allowed to follow her own choice, ten years from now she would sadly regret it does not influence her much, for the now is so near and so desirable.

I was calling one evening in the home of a friend who has a sixteen-year-old daughter. A few moments after I was seated she came into the room wearing a simple evening gown of pale blue silk, her hair arranged in the latest fashion, and her eyes dancing with excitement and anticipation. I could easily pardon the look of satisfied pride upon the faces of both her father and mother. After greeting me cordially she said, “Mother, I may do it just this time, mayn’t I? Please, mother!” “Do what?” said the mother. “You know, the carriage. Harry’s father gave him the money, and it’s so much nicer than the crowded car.”

“I told you this afternoon what I thought about it,” said the mother, “but you may ask your father.”

She referred the matter to him. “Harry” wanted to have a carriage and drive home after the party, his father was willing and had given him the money. And now mother objected! All the nicest girls were going to do it, but mother preferred a crowded street-car! Supreme disgust and a sense of injustice showed in voice and manner. Her father smiled, as he said, “Well, I think your mother is about right.” Still the girl persisted until her father said sternly, “Mildred, you may do as we wish or remain at home.” Sullen silence followed, while she made preparations to go. As her mother helped her on with her wrap, she said kindly, “I’m so sorry, Mildred. It is hard for us to deny you,