Dear Enemy

"Orphans" is merely my generic term for the children; a good many

of them are not orphans in the least. They have one troublesome and

tenacious parent left who won't sign a surrender, so I can't place them

out for adoption. But those that are available would be far better off

in loving foster-homes than in the best institution that I can ever

make. So I am fitting them for adoption as quickly as possible, and

searching for the homes.

You ought to run across a lot of pleasant families in your travels;

can't you bully some of them into adopting children? Boys by preference.

We've got an awful lot of extra boys, and nobody wants them. Talk about

anti-feminism! It's nothing to the anti-masculinism that exists in the

breasts of adopting parents. I could place out a thousand dimpled little

girls with yellow hair, but a good live boy from nine to thirteen is a

drug on the market. There seems to be a general feeling that they track

in dirt and scratch up mahogany furniture.

Shouldn't you think that men's clubs might like to adopt boys, as a sort

of mascot? The boy could be boarded in a nice respectable family, and

drawn out by the different members on Saturday afternoons. They could

take him to ball games and the circus, and then return him when they

had had enough, just as you do with a library book. It would be very

valuable training for the bachelors. People are forever talking about

the desirability of training girls for motherhood. Why not institute a

course of training in fatherhood, and get the best men's clubs to take

it up? Will you please have Jervis agitate the matter at his various

clubs, and I'll have Gordon start the idea in Washington. They both

belong to such a lot of clubs that we ought to dispose of at least a

dozen boys.

I remain,

The ever-distracted mother of 113.

S. McB.

THE JOHN GRIER HOME,

March 18.

Dear Judy:

I have been having a pleasant respite from the 113 cares of motherhood.

Yesterday who should drop down upon our peaceful village but Mr. Gordon

Hallock, on his way back to Washington to resume the cares of the

nation. At least he said it was on his way, but I notice from the map in

the primary room that it was one hundred miles out of his way.

And dear, but I was glad to see him! He is the first glimpse of the

outside world I have had since I was incarcerated in this asylum. And

such a lot of entertaining businesses he had to talk about! He knows the

inside of all the outside things you read in the newspapers; so far as I

can make out, he is the social center about which Washington revolves.

I always knew he would get on in politics, for he has a way with him;

there's no doubt about it.