tLC Book. > \ 4 Copyright N^_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT LETTERS FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER ENTERING COLLEGE BY CHARLES FRANKLIN THWING, D.D., LLD. President of the College for Women, of Western Reserve University, THE PLATT & PECK CO. v-<^V^ Copyright, 1913, by THE PLATT & PECK CO. ©CI. A3 47 70 5 PREFATORY NOTE. Parts of these letters, like parts of the corresponding ''Letters to a Son," were read to my own college girls at the beginning of a college year. In them I have tried to write both as a parent and as a president. For each relation is full of infinite meanings, and each relation easily flows into the other. I am glad, at the wish of the publisher, to give these letters, paternal and academic, a wider hearing than either the individual home or college chapel can offer. C. F. T. College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, September, 1913. CONTENTS PAGE I Choosing a . College 9 II College Life :— 14 What it is ncrt; What it is. III The College and the Home 24 IV The Value of Health 31 V Democracy and Cultivation 37 VI The Best for Yourself 48 VII Teachers 51 VIII Books 54 IX Living your Life 57 X Friendships 60 XI Three Special Things : — 68 Voice Handwriting Dress XII The Elements of Religion 73 LETTERS FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER EN- TERING COLLEGE My dear Daughter: ^ I ^HERE has never been any A question about your going to college. Your mother's life at Vas- sar had given her a special eagerness to send her daughter to that or some other good college. But now, that the college is decided upon, I can easily see that there were three, among other reasons, which have led us to make our choice. One reason is that the college is not too big. A very big college for boys is bad, but a very big college 9 Letters from a Father to for girls is worse. For do not girls have peculiar need of individual care? There should be, I believe^ specially careful oversight of each and every one. When I think, too, of how large a part of your life and work will be individual, I am the more eager that you in your edu- cation should not be one of a mass. A big college, of course, you may say, should give as careful care to the individual as the small. It should: but it does not, and, cer- tainly, it is more difficult, and these difficulties the colleges do not seem to have the machinery for overcom- ing. So I am glad you are going to a college big enough for you to find 10 His Daughter Entering College a field of companionship, a variety and richness of studies, and not so big that you will be regarded by the president as one among a thousand. I am also glad we have decided to send you to a college near a big city, but not in it. A college for girls in a big city does not give room for play, in both the metaphorical and literal sense, and girls must have a chance to play, to be their free selves ; but a college far away from a big city always seems to me to make the temptation pretty strong to fall into habits of dress and manner which the world does not value highly. I want you to be urbane, and urbane is only urban 11 Letters from a Father to with the last vowel added. But I also want you still to have room and space and time for play. But, there is a third reason, too, for our choice. I have not wanted to send you to a college where there are boys. I wonder if I can tell you just why. I think the reason is something of this sort: — College life has many problems, and some hard ones, for the girl. They are, for some girls, so many and so hard, that they are not able to see through them or to think through them, or even to feel their way into or through them. I do not want to add to your problems un- necessarily. The presence of boys 12 His Daughter Entering College is liable to make for some girls a problem or a series of problems. The problem which the boy repre- sents should be deferred for most girls till graduation, and it is also a problem which the parent rather see solved under his own eyes. While I believe we ought to have co-edu- cational colleges, and also, while I believe that certain girls will find it well to go to them, I am glad you are going to a college where the boy- problem, or the man-problem, will not be presented every hour of ev- ery day, and day by day of each of your one hundred and forty-four weeks. 13 Letters from a Father to II But, now, having told you, as I have not before, of some of the rea- sons leading to our choice, what shall I tell you of your college life? Perhaps I should begin with saying what it is not, or what it should not be. Misinterpretations are too common. One of these misinter- pretations refers to the value of a college education. Some girls regard a college edu- cation as of very great significance. It is the all, the be-all, and the end- all of life. To the college they have looked forward with longing and contentment. They have nei- 14 His Daughter Entering College ther dared nor cared to look beyond college years or college walls. This condition was more com- mon formerly than now. The di- vision between the academic world and the non-academic world was more marked. To-day, the college woman finds her way into every call- ing where brain and character have an opportunity, — and what calling is there where brain and character lack an opportunity? — and the col- lege student sees her sister alumnse doing all the things that every one does, and she therefore is not in- clined to look upon the college ex- perience as unique. Some girls regard a college course 15 Letters from a Father to as a matter of but slight conse- quence. It is a mere incident or ac- cident. Its four years are only five per cent of one's four score years of life. Its successes bear no relation to life's success, or its failures to life's failure. The student delights to point out the women who have not gone to college. Where and how was ''George Eliot" educated? Wherein lies the truth? It is safe to say that college is not the be- all or the end-all. It is also safe to say that college is not a mere in- cident. The college is neither a purpose, a final cause, nor a result; the college is always a means, a method, a force. Its power over 16 His Daughter Entering College some women, be it confessed, is slight. Some women leave the col- lege the same women they came, with slight exceptions. The power over others, be it said, is hardly less than tremendous. It has turned the stream of their life's thought. It has given them a vision of possi- bility. It has inspired desires for making real the content of this vi- sion. It has opened the windows of their souls and the air of human life has swept in to make a sturdy and fine character. It has brought them to the world of good books and the preciousness of good souls. It has given them a sense of proportion and an appreciation of values, a re- 17 Letters from a Father to spect for the law that underlies all laws. It has strengthened individu- ality, it has lessened eccentricities. It has deepened the sense of individ- uality and it has also deepened the sense of humanity. It has taken away caddishness and callowness, and made one a genuine good fel- low. It has trained one to win tri- umphs with humility and to bear defeats with calmness. It has in- creased respect for the decencies and the sanctities of life. It has en- larged the sense of humanity and developed the sense of friendship. It has, with all intellectual enrich- ment, tried to add strength to the strength of the will, and sensitive- l8 His Daughter Entering College ness to the mainspring of con- science. It has taken the daughter from the family for a time, but it has given an added respect for the preciousness of the hearth-stone. Without infringing upon the per- sonal relations which one bears to one's God, it has sought to make that relation more vital, more rea- sonable, more natural and more commanding. A further misinterpretation, or over-valuation, relates to moral and intellectual values. College wom- en are inclined to have an undue appreciation of intellectual values and an undue depreciation of eth- ical values. Most come to college 19 Letters from a Father to with the idea that the college is the creator of intellectual power only. I heard a most impressive speech made at the last commencement in favor of the proposition. The col- lege is indeed to create intellect. The text-book is the Genesis of our intellectual Bible. The class-room is the bare waste over which the in- tellectual spirit is to brood and to bring forth life. The teacher is, to use the Socratic figure, to minister to the intellectual new birth. If it is not true, the college ought to burn the library, blow up the laboratory, and send the students home. But we have learned that man is not in- tellect only, and we have learned 20 His Daughter Entering College that intellect does not work alone. Man is a unit. One can not attain intellectual results unless the feel- ings are in a proper state and the will fittingly directed. If the feel- ings are riotous, the powers of reflec- tion are disturbed. If the appetites are not properly guarded, the power of perception is lessened. Man is one. His powers are to be kept in equilibrium. Keep, create, in- crease, all the intellectual powers. But you should know that the eth- ical forces are of great value. Of course it is more important to be strong than to be able to decline vir- tus, to stand four-square to all the heavens than to be able to prove 21 Letters from a Father to the propositions about the parallel- ogram, to have a pure heart than to speak pure English. Of course it is, and the most materialistic of all college officers would say that it is, true. This truth receives illustra- tion in the fact that the intellectual forces have had much less to do with the progress of the world and of mankind than is commonly be- lieved. Another lack of proper estimation is seen in the over-valuation of knowledge and the under-valuation of power. It is natural for a col- lege woman to over-estimate the value of knowledge. Has she not been learning all these eight or 22 His Daughter Entering College twelve years? Has she not passed examinations according as she knew, and failed according as she did not know? If she knew, she has been called bright, clever, brilliant, a genius in the bud; if she did not know, she has been called stupid, and foolish. If she knew, her path- way has been an easy and happy one; if she did not know, her path- way has been a hard and miserable one. This will continue after col- lege also. You will still find it con- venient to know. But I would have you believe that all knowl- edge is of small worth for its own sake. Knowledge is of chief worth because it gives you material for 23 Letters from a Father to thought, and the process of acquir- ing knowledge is of chief value be- cause it trains you in the methods of thinking. Thought is of worth be- cause it is the chief power among men. The college, and the world, can not have too many scholars. There will be few, and only a few, at the best. But the world needs women who can think, and think largely, broadly, justly, accurately and comprehensively. Ill I perhaps ought to begin this letter by saying that, while you are in college, you must not forget your home. 24 His Daughter Entering College The purpose of the home is the purpose of the college. The parent desires his daughter to become wise and large-minded, great in heart, strong in will, and appreciative of all that is good and beautiful. The teacher also seeks to secure wisdom through learning and to cause wis- dom to become a guide of the will in its choices of right and of duty. The son of Josiah Quincy, one of the most useful presidents of Har- vard College, says of his father: ''His heart's desire was to make the College a nursery of high- minded, high-principled, well- taught, well-conducted, well-bred gentlemen, fit to take their share, 25 Letters from a Father to gracefully and honorably, in public and private life." I am sure that the desire of President Quincy for his students was the same desire which he as a parent had for his chil- dren. The identity of the aim of the home and of the college is indeed significant. For the idea is alto- gether too strong and too commonly held that the college is either remote from or even antagonistic to the home, that its ideals are not the ideals of the home, nor its way of securing these ideals the methods which the home adopts. To be sure, a superficial interpretation gives ground for the judgment of such 26 His Daughter Entering College alienation. For the sons and daughters are away from home. College life is at once monastic and communal. Domestic life is not monastic and in many respects is not communal. College people live in an atmosphere of freedom. The domestic atmosphere is one of dependence and supervision. But after all the superficial and tempo- rary differences, at bottom the col- lege wants what the home wants; the home wants what the college wants, — the finest type of the lady and of the gentleman. I also wish to say that the college should have the attitude and mood of the home in trusting the girl. 27 Letters from a Father to The girl who comes to college mis- trusted by her home, under the fear that she will not prove worthy either in intellect or character is very prone to prove that she was worthy of this lack of trust. The girl who comes to college trusted is inspired to prove herself worthy of the trust. Nothing makes the young or the old child so worthy of being trusted as being trusted. This was the method of Arnold of Rugby. It was also the method of President Quincy, from whom I have already quoted. His son says of him that in his intercourse with the students ''He always took it for granted that they were gentlemen 28 His Daughter Entering College and men of honor. He never questioned the truth of any story any of them told him, when in aca- demic difficulties, however improb- able it might be. That statement was accepted as truth until it was overthrown by implacable facts and inexorable evidence. Then, be- yond doubt, the unhappy youth was made to know the value of a good character by the inconvenience at- tending the loss of it." One of the most significant remarks ever made about Arnold was that made by the boys at PiUgby, — ''We wouldn't lie to Arnold; he'd believe us." But the college has relations to the home, as well as the home to the 29 Letters from a Father to college. After three or four years of sojourn the college turns the girl back to the home. It may be at once said that it is a little diflBcult for her to resume these domestic re- lations. If she has not lost touch with the personalities of the home, she has lost touch with its forms and methods, standards and at- mospheres. Herein lies an argu- ment for the girl and the boy, too, going to a college so near home that these relations are not wholly or largely severed. But she is to put herself back into these relations. She is to be an obedient daughter, a helpful sister and a happiness-bear- ing associate. She is to be remote 30 His Daughter Entering College from all sophomoric remoteness and from senior loftiness. She is to be- come interested in all the interests of the home. She is to bear into its well-being a gentleness which is sympathetic, a strength and an ap- preciation which is loyal and rich and fine. She is to assume respon- sibilities. She is to be efficient without officiousness. IV And now, I want to tell some most obvious truths, and to tell them, too, in such a way, if possible, that they may help you in college life, every day. The college girl will find it diffi- 31 Letters from a Father to cult to emphasize too strongly the value of health. Whatever may be the worth of general physical sound- ness yet this soundness has at least three special values. First, it gives aid in holding and getting sound views of life. Life is a mirror. One smiles into it and it smiles back. One scowls and it scowls. If one is sick, all of life is in peril of becoming sickly. Peo- ple who have broken hips always find that the chief injuries that men suffer are broken hips. If one is well, vigorous, sound, all life seems well, vigorous, sound. Now, all life is not well, vigorous and sound, but if one is well, vigorous and 32 His Daughter Entering College sound, one's own vigor helps to transmute all life into vigor. It is also advantageous to interpret life in terms of its highest helpful- ness. Its verb is to be conjugated in the perfect, or pluperfect, tense of action, of noblest attainment and of highest condition. Second, health has a value to oth- ers quite as great as to oneself. It is good to be able to give an impres- sion of vigor. I know Carlyle says of himself as a student at Edin- burgh that these were the three most miserable years of his life — "a prey to nameless struggles and miseries, which have yet a kind of horror in them to my thoughts, three weeks 33 Letters from a Father to without any kind of sleep, from im- possibility to be free from noise." One also recalls the struggle with ill health which the great Darwin made. Frequently, again and again, he writes in this mood : '1 am quite knocked up, and am going next Monday to revive under water- cure." "Before starting here (hy- dropathic establishment) I was in an awful state of stomach, strength, temper and spirits." "I have not had one whole day, or rather night, without my stomach having been greatly disordered during the last three years, and most days great prostration of strength." Thomas Huxley also writes com- 34 His Daughter Entering College plaining "of weariness and dead- ness hanging over him, accompanied by a curious nervous irritability." At the age of thirty-two, Robert Browning fell in love with Eliza- beth Barrett. At the same period his headaches began! Up to that time he had been free from such symptoms. The relation between the heart and the head may be close ! For many years he writes of these headaches. In 1846 he says: "I am rather hazy in the head." He also says : "For all the walking my headaches." He adds too: "With the deep joy in my heart below, what does my head mean by its perversity?" 35 Letters from a Father to But the college girl should free herself from such sufferings and in- capacities. She is not to allow her- self to be plagued by headaches or heartaches, or indigestion or nerv- ousness. She is to keep herself well, both for the sake of good health and for the sake also of giv- ing the impression of being able to do good work. Third, health not only gives the impression of being able to do things, but health also gives the power of doing things. Health b good blood; good blood aids in vig- orous thinking. Health is sound muscle; sound muscle is executive action. Health is calm nerves; 36 His Daughter Entering College calm nerves promote sound judg- ment. Woman's life is a round of duties punctuated by crises. The crises may be glorious or inglorious. The way one follows this round without permanent weariness, the way one meets these crises, de- pends largely upon physical sound- ness. In college, furthermore, you are not to forget the large human rela- tions. One is not to be "cribbed, cabined or confined." One is to be a unit. One is to place about one- self other units. One may form small unities, but one is not to keep 37 Letters from a Father to oneself to small unities. The stu- dent is to belong to her class; that is good. She is to belong to her col- lege; that is better. She is to be- long — and it is a far cry — she is to belong to humanity. I sometimes think I could go into a group of college girls and pick out those who come from Vassar, or from Smith, or from Wellesley. Mannerisms in speech or dress or certain interpretations of life would reveal academic origins. I should like for all college graduates to be distinguished by the mere absence of mannerisms, of characteristics — to have one manner, one character — the largest understanding, the deep- 38 His Daughter Entering College est love for, the highest loyalty to, all human interests. Women are usually more seclu- sive and exclusive than men. They shut others out and themselves in more. Commerce, industry, compel men to be democrats. Trade has no aristocracy. Because the college girl lacks this aid, she should be the more eager to make use of every oppor- tunity to become one with all. One is to be democratic. One is to make use of every opportunity of democ- racy. Snobbishness is bad in a man, worse in a woman. One's relation to all people is to be fundamental and essential. Another suggestion emerges. It 39 Letters from a Father to relates to the education for power and the education for cultivation. There are books which may be called books of power, and also there are books, which may be called books of cultivation. Mill's "Logic," Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations," be- long to the first class. They are the result of great intellectual force, and they are creators also of intel- lectual force. On the other hand, poems are peculiarly books of culti- vation. The same difference exists in education. There is the educa- tion which creates great thinking. No one can read Mill's "Logic," without becoming stronger. But there is an education of another sort 40 His Daughter Entering College quite as important. It is the edu- cation which cultivates. Who is the cultivated person? Some would say that the cultivated person is the person of beautiful manners, of acquaintance with the noblest social customs, who is at home in any society or association. Such a definition is not to be spurned. For is it not said, "Man- ners make the man?" Manners make the man! Do manners then create the man? Do manners give reputation to the man? Do man- ners express the character of the man? Which of the three interpre- tations is sound? Or does each in- terpretation intimate a side of the 41 Letters from a Father to polygon? The way one accepts or declines a note of invitation, the way one uses her voice, the way one enters or retires from a room may, or may not, be little in itself, but the simple act is evidence of condi- tions. For is not manner the com- parative of man? It is not the su- perlative ! Others would affirm that the culti- vated person is the person who ap- preciates the best which life oifers. Appreciation is both intellectual, emotional, volitional. It is discrim- ination plus sympathy. It contains a dash of admiration. It recognizes and adopts the best in every achieve- ment — the arts, literature, poetry, 42 His Daughter Entering College sculpture, painting, architecture. The cultivated person seeks out the least unworthy in the unworthy, and the most worthy in that which is at all worthy. The person of cul- tivation knows, compares, relates, judges. He has standards, and he applies them to things, measures, methods. His moral nature is fine, as his intellectual is honest. He is filled with reverence for truth, duty, righteousness. He is humble, for he knows how great is truth, how im- perative duty. He is modest, for he respects others. He is patient with others and with himself, for he knows how unattainable is the right. He can be silent when in doubt. 43 Letters from a Father to He can speak alone when truth is unpopular. He is willing to lose his voice in the "choir invisible." He is a man of proportion, reality, sincerity, honesty, justice, temper- ance — intellectual and ethical. Such is a cultivation which be- longs to all. But there is a special cultivation, I think, which belongs to woman. Of that unique charac- ter and interpreter, Clarence King, my old teacher and friend, Henry Adams has said : ''At best. King had but a poor opinion of intellect, chiefly because he found it so defective an instru- ment, but he admitted that it was all the male had to live upon ; while 44 His Daughter Entering College the female was rich in the inherit- ance of every animated energy back to the polyps and crystals." That "animated energy" other than intellectual, as well as intel- lectual, the college woman is to de- velop and to make the most of. It is a treasure rich and significant. It represents elements which men have not, as a rule, received. It stands for a personality which has the best elements of refinement and of charm. Efficiency may accom- pany its existence, but efficiency is not to be allowed to interfere with its development and impressiveness. The college girl, be it added, should make certain fundamental 45 Letters from a Father to discriminations. She should dis- criminate between self-respect and self-consciousness, between emo- tional admirations and intellectual appreciations, between learning a book and learning a subject, be- tween trained force and untrained power, between respect for others' judgment and catering to others' prejudices, between social pleasures and social re-creations. In her personal life, too, she should not neglect the distinction between be- ing calm and being stolid, between trustfulness and indifference, be- tween carefulness and fussiness, be- tween thoughtfulness and anxiety, between piety and pietism, between 46 His Daughter Entering College a general plan and purpose for life and the fortune teller's desire for details, between seriousness and somberness, between levity and wit, between patience and ploddingness. These differentiations have im- mediate practical value. One can- not take all that the college offers. Plants draw from the soil not all the soil offers but only that which they need. Roses take what heliotropes may refuse. The college girl should select for herself from all the aca- demic offerings that which is best for herself; the rest is to be discarded. 47 Letters from a Father to VI But, perhaps, the one great com- prehensive thing I want to say to you, as you do turn your face away from your home, is to get the best for yourself from the college. That may sound very selfish — perhaps it is-^but wait a bit. Yet at the peril of seeming unusually selfish, let me emphasize for yourself. For do you know that what in college may be best for one girl may not be best for another*? It may be well for one girl to give special heed to her health, through the gymnasium and long walks and longer sleeps; for another to make most effort to over- 48 His Daughter Entering College come her self -consciousness ; for an- other girl also to do her scholastic work with special excellence that she may become the most efficient teacher. Let each try to find in the college the supply of her dire and direct wants, and the direness of these wants differs. It is also plain enough that your education must educate you. Does not one deriva- tion of the word indicate that this thing we call education is a draw- ing out, a leading out of one's in- born tendencies, a development of what the philosophers call the in- nate? No gardener tries to raise cabbages from cucumber seeds. Your father may wish that you had 49 Letters from a Father to more and better stuff in you, but you are what you are, and educa- tion must educate that individual and that individuality which na- ture out of all her material made you. Yet, despite all this, girls and boys are surprisingly alike, and all girls have largely the same needs. Get the best for yourself, there- fore I repeat. In the best for yourself are several things that I want out of my experi- ence to tell you about. VII One of these things I shall call appreciation. Perhaps I had better call what I have in mind a love for 50 His Daughter Entering College the best, if in this big-little world of love I can put in two or three things. I want you to know what is the best, I want you then to love this best, and then I want you to make this best a part of yourself. In this knowing, loving, incorpo- ration I want first to include your teachers. Sometimes college pro- fessors say that college life would be very interesting were there no students ; students might return the ball by saying college life would be all right were there no professors. But all college people know that each would be "useless without the other." Now, you will find your teachers in college, like teachers in 51 Letters from a Father to school everywhere, and like all other folks, having a great variety of abilities. You are coming to col- lege with the idea, possibly, that each professor is pretty near perfec- tion. Well, keep on thinking so till you are obliged to think otherwise; but you will soon find that they are a bit nearer perfection in certain lat- itudes and longitudes than in others. What I want you to do is this : take each one at his best, and leave him as much alone as you can in his not- best. When I was a Freshman I had two teachers in Latin. With them each I read Livy and Horace. One of them was a close, accurate, painstaking scholar. The chief im- 52 His Daughter Entering College pression I bore away from him was that the Latin language was made up largely of a thing called "the sub- junctive." Well, it did me good, I am sure. It helped to make me accurate, I presume. The other teacher helped me to feel the strength of Livy's well-knit sen- tences and to give me a sense of style through the well-chosen ep- ithets of Horace's verses. Each did a bit for me. Each did what the other could not do. Take your teachers at their best, and try to for- get the weak and unworthy parts. 53 Letters from a Father to VIII I also want you to have an appre- ciation of the best books. You have the advantage of having been brought up in a library. Books have been so common a part of your furniture and of your home that you may be in peril of not knowing that some books are good, some better, and some best. Do you recall Ba- con's interpretation ? I want you to know, to love, and to make your own the best books of all sorts of litera- ture. You have read novels, many, — keep on reading. But remember that Scott is more worthy than Cooper, Thackeray than Dickens, 54 His Daughter Entering College George Eliot than Thomas Hardy. You like poetry, like it more, but I need not tell you that Wordsworth is superior to Longfellow, Brown- ing to Whittier, Tennyson to Low- ell, Shelley to Emerson. Among books the good is often the worst enemy of the best. Cultivate the best, yet read what you like, but let what you like be the highest of its kind of to-day, and this will lead you to a higher kind to-morrow. When I think what a love of the best books will mean to you all your life, in its companionships, its exalta- tions, its struggles and sorrows, I feel so glad that the chance of mak- ing this love large and real is yours. 55 Letters from a Father to I should like to say the same to you about music. But I feel I can- not. The best book is always on your table. The best music you must go to hear: it is occasional. Yet hear all you can rightfully. But I do wish you could play the violin, or the piano — or something ! But pictures? — yes, they may be kept before you. It is better to have good copies of great pictures than original second and third-rate pictures, even if you could afford them. Have a copy of a Raphael, of a Leonardo, of a Correggio, or some other master, on the wall of your room. 56 His Daughter Entering College IX But I do want you to get the best out of your college life. Almost the best thing you can do in college or out of college is to live your life, — live your life truly, deeply, bravely, highly, largely. Live your life with what I shall call the *'buoy- ancy of right living." Certain na- tures lift one like a balloon. Cer- tain natures depress one like lead flung into the water. Vitality, full- ness of life, buoyancy, represent most precious qualities. These qualities are the result of right liv- ing. The man whose living is right is naturally the man of a buoyant, 57 Letters from a Father to hopeful, aggressive, progressive temperament. Nothing so makes a man a "hang-dog" as doing wrong. I notice that prisoners in a jail usually look down. The gaze of the chain-gang is earthward, not skyward. Right done makes the pulse more full, steady, regular. Wrong done makes the pulse thin, sharp, nervous. The ministry of the virtues of truth, knowledge, and love make sleep sounder, appetite better, voice cheerier, eye clearer, step brisker, one's whole presence more vital. In this college life, are many, many things. I want you to have a share in all college affairs. If you 58 His Daughter Entering College are asked, as I hope and believe you will be, to join some college clubs, of course accept, but do not belong to too many of them. But take a part in all college fun, parties, theatricals, festivities. Do your share, and more, from your time and from your purse. College life in many ways tends towards selfish- ness. The undergraduate activities, —pranks, frivolities, and earnest, se- rious work, will help to keep you large and liberal. X Another best of the college is your atmosphere of friendliness and your friendships. The college has ceased 59 Letters from a Father to to be a nunnery; it has become a community. Cultivate the sense of good fellowship ! Be able, of course, to stand alone. Be able, of course, if necessary, to stand opposed to all. Be able to speak of the eleven ob- stinate and foolish jurors, who would not agree with you, the twelfth. Said Athanasius, when told that the world was against him, "I am against the world." But in your independence and antagonism, always remember to be gracious. Agree with others so far as you can. Emphasize likenesses, not differ- ences. Bring yourself into close association with everybody you can. In particular know women of train- 60 His Daughter Entering College ing and conditions unlike your own. Be broad in experience as well as in observation. Have your sets, your societies. Cultivate them. But have yourself beyond your set, your society. Dr. R. S. Storrs once wrote me saying, that among his blessed companionships in college was that of Father Hewitt, the distinguished Roman Catholic prelate. Be sure that every friendship lifts. Be sure that your friendship lifts every man and woman. Be sure that the friendship of every man and woman lifts you. Life is rich or poor as it has friends. The great Darwin once wrote to Dr. Hooker that love is far more than fame or scholarship. 61 Letters from a Father to Let me also suggest that friendships should be formed not by accident, but by choice. It often means too much who is the first woman that a new student meets on the college campus. Let your friends not only be choice, let them also be chosen. It is more than plain to the reader of the biography of Jowett that he loved all college men, and it is said of him that ''although the genius of Swinburne, the ever-active brain of J. A. Symonds and the vigorous in- dividuality of John Nichol were largely independent of his teaching, they yet owed to him what was more valuable still, the blessing of a friendship that never wavered, 62 His Daughter Entering College which gave unstinted help at critical moments both in youth and after life, and would make any sacrifice of leisure and of ease to serve them." The friendships of a boy in college mean much, — remember your In Memoriam, — but I believe that the friendships of college girls may mean more. You will make friends for life and for all of life's experience. Now, there are two things you should avoid in making friendships, — narrowness and intensity. I know some girls who are seclusive; they shut themselves up in their friend- ships; — they are exclusive: they shut other girls out. This is bad. Women are in more peril of social 63 Letters from a Father ta narrowness than men. They ought, therefore, to seek to cultivate breadth, generosity, and inclusive- ness. Have many friends, "and more and more and more." Narrow- ness leads to a more serious defect, namely, too great intensity in friendship. Keep your friendships sane, healthful, healthy, helpful, natural. Let them be growths, like rose bushes, not manufactures, like artificial flowers. Do not force them. I do not care if you take all the Freshman year for making friends. Did I not give counsel, with a bit of apology, that you get the best for yourself from the college? This 64 His Daughter Entering College counsel applies to friendship. But do you know the way for getting the very best friendship for yourself? Of course you do. It is to give the best of yourself. And do you know the surest way of giving the best of yourself? Why, of course, — it is to find the best in the other girl. That other girl has her best and her not- best, just like you. Find that best, and help her to make that best yet better. In offering to make the best yet better, you will see, and she will see, too, that what is not best is be- ing lifted up toward the best itself. Is it not unspeakable to think that a friendship may deprave or debase? How beautiful to find friendships 65 Letters from a Father to that lift, and enlarge, and inspire both. But if you are to get the best out of the others, they too, are to get the best out of you. For others to get the best out of you depends upon those others, and it also rests with you somewhat. With you the re- sponsibility is put largely on your manners. Good manners are im- portant enough for man, but they are almost too important for woman. In manners for both men and women the most important words are graciousness, consider- ateness. Considerateness is both the intellectual and intelligent part of thoughtfulness and think- 66 His Daughter Entering College ing. It also includes the emotional part of sympathy. It stands for thinking of the other person, her rights, her conditions, her needs, her achievements, and it also means having a feeling for all those rights and conditions. Graciousness is a still stronger application of consid- erateness ; it is doing a favor, show- ing a kindness to those who have no special claim for such favor or kind- ness. Good manners are a fine art; the fine arts are designed to give pleas- ure. There is such a big part of the good and the best in you that I am eager for other folks beside your family to share in it. Your consid- 67 Letters from a Father to erateness of them, your graciousness toward them will enable you to get the best. It is largely on your part a mood, a mood which you can cul- tivate, a point of view, too, which you will normally and naturally take. XI But besides the general interpre- tation of these special things which will help people to get the best from you, are one or two other details. One is, your voice. The voice should give pleasure to one who hears it. You need not fear being too much unlike your fellow-coun- trymen if your voice is sweet and 68 His Daughter Entering College even. Oh, the Vox 'Americana! Take every means which the college offers for making your voice pleas- ant. Another special thing which indi- cates considerateness, is a good handwriting. I do not know as it is a function of a college to teach you handwriting. The fact is that probably the President of your col- lege writes a very bad hand. I know that one great cause of your and most folks' bad writing is the examination paper, and note-taking, which must be done quickly. But remember there are two undesirable things in penmanship; illegibility and uncouthness. Some writing 69 Letters from a Father to may be illegible and still be the writing of a lady or gentleman. Some writing may be uncouth but legible. It is important that your writing should be easy to read and pleasant to look at. All this is very personal, but I am going to be still more so. Dress? — yes, I am interested in your being well dressed. The impression which you make on others depends largely upon the way you are dressed. Dress makes the man and also makes the woman. Good dressing need not be expensive; good dressing is dressing in good taste, and good taste is more a matter of judgment than of purse. Good dressing is be- 70 His Daughter Entering College ing so dressed that no one can tell, half an hour after meeting you, how you were dressed, so complete was the fitness of the habit to the inhabi- tant. Like the best window glass, dress should never call attention to itself. Now these three things, voice, writing and dress are, in part, at least, under your own control. Make them each such that they shall give forth the best of yourself to your many friends. You are going to college, not to a finishing school. The finishing school does look after this trinity of graces; the college is in peril of not looking after it. It is liable to regard such externalities 71 Letters from a Father to as unworthy of notice. I am in- clined to think that the college should have regard for such things. But, perhaps, the reason the college does not take notice is that it be- lieves you are so mature, so wise, that you are able to look after these things yourself. For your educa- tion is to make you a thinker, and a person who thinks should be able to look after such things. I cannot better close this part of my letter than by giving you what Matthew Arnold says in the preface of his ''Mixed Essays" about the powers which contribute to the building up of human civilization. They are the power of conduct, the power of 72 His Daughter Entering College social life and manners, the power of intellect and knowledge, the power of beauty. Here are the con- ditions of civilization, the claimants which a man must satisfy before he can be humanized. * XII I want to say one thing more. It is perhaps the most important, as it is the most serious of all I have tried to write. Get the best and most out of your religion. You are religious, I know, not only by formal act, but by the instincts of your nature. Re- ligion is the greatest thing, — one might say, the only thing. The re- lation which one bears to the Su- 73 Letters from a Father to preme Being is the most important. It is the background of life, the sky of destiny. Now so many people do not get much out of their religion, and religion certainly does not get much out of them. I want you to get much and to give much. Inter- pret life in the terms of the personal creator; sympathize with life in terms of righteousness; will life as a personal good. In this interpretation of life I want to suggest to you three things as helps. First, prayer. Emerson somewhere says that every man must pray. The mood of the prayer and the act of prayer belong to the devout soul. Second, the church. 74 His Daughter Entering College Keep up your church life. I have reason to know how poor and un- worthy the church is, how stupid much preaching is, but make the service of the church worship even if you cannot make it instruction or inspiration. Third, Sunday. Many college boys and girls study Sunday. It is very foolish; they think they have to. Their belief arises from a lack of forethought or prudent plan- ning. Use Sunday for a time of in- terpretation, reflection, inspiration. Make each day, too, like George Herbert's Sunday, 'The bridal of the earth and sky." Good-bye, dear girl. With love. Your Father. 75 Letters From a Father to His Son Entering College By CHARLES FRANCIS THWING Trcstiknlof Walcrn Reserve Unherallti PRICE 50 CENTS. NET "Letters From a Father to His Son Entering College," is a compendium of rules for intellectual growth and achievement. All men, whose life even in the smallest degree depends on mental efficiency, will profit much by its perusaL The letters are written by the hand of a master whose every touch is sure. The style is remarkable for clearness, brevity and force. There is no needless word. Almost every sentence is an epigram which grips the mind with unmistakable sincerity and truth. There is in them no sense of the pedant of the preacher, but rather of one who speaks from the clear, cool heights of wis- dom far removed from any taint of self-assertion; yet in them is so much all-pervading impersonal sympathy, one feels that the writer has understandingly passed over the pathway he points out. This book should be in every home, and be made a text book in the colleges and universities of the land. — Denoa- Times. Some Opinions of Prominent Educators DAVID STARR JORDAN President of Leland Stanford funior University "I have read 'Letters from a Father to His Son Entering College* with great interest. It represents good common sense in matters of vital importance to many thousands of boys who are going to college this fall." ARTHUR T. HADLEY President of Yale University "I have looked with interest at Dr. Thwing's little book. Anything that he writes is worth reading." HENRY CHURCHILL KING President of Oberlin College "I am sure that no prospective college student could fail to get much of suggestion and help from President Thwing's^ little book, 'Letters from a Father to His Son Entermg College.* " BOOKER T. WASHINGTON President of Tuskegee Institute •'I have read nothing lately which for wholesouled help- fulness to young men has impressed me more than Dr. Thwing's Letters. I appreciate having them in this beautiful and sub- stantial form." W. O. THOMPSON President of The Ohio State University "I have enjoyed going through the book and commend it most cordially as a suggestive and helpful little volume for students." W. E. STONE President of Purdue University "It is an attractive book, especially to the mature man who has had some experience with boys and college problems and understands the things concerning which the boys should be fore- warned. If any boy would read this carefully he would get a lot of good out of it. It is only a question in my mind how much attention the average young fellow of these days will give to good advice of this sort. It occurs to me as I look through the book, that it would be a good book to send to parents of boys about to enter college as well as to the boy himself." F. W. ATKINSON President of The Polytechnic Institute "I have read through with interest and profit Dr. Thwing's little book. Every high school graduate should have a copy placed in his hands. The high school boy who is in doubt about going to college would be all the more likely to go to college as the result of reading it ; and the boy who has decided to take a college course, by reading it, would be put in a more thoughtful, earnest fr<.me of mind. I have no hesitation in commending the book both for its common sense and for its sympathy and knowledge of boy life." BENJAMIN IDE WHEELER President of Untversity of California "I wish every student entering college could read Dr. Th wing's little book, 'Letters from a Father to His Son Entering College.* " A. W. HARRIS President of Northwestern University "I read Dr. Thwing's * Letters from a Father to His Son Entering College* with the greatest interest. They give an ad- mirable presentation of important considerations, and lead one who has had experience with college men to greatly admire the ability, adroitness and persuasiveness with which the President has put his plea. The Letters will be valuable in the hands of any young man beginning his college education." HENRY VAN DYKE Prtncetoji Uitiverstty "Fortunate the son who has such a father! Happy the father whose son follows such wholesome, clean-cut, inspiring advice. It must do any boy good to read such a book,** JUN 14 1913