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By Dan Beard
If Little Lord Fauntleroy had been born in a Western town his life would not have been worth living. He was a gentle little "sissy" aristocrat, who would never have been tolerated by the "Huck" Finns and Tom Sawyers inhabiting the valleys of the Mississippi and its tributaries.
Imagine, if you can, such a little chap wearing the clothes with which Mr. Birch, in his beautiful illustrations, so appropriately dressed him; imagine him down on one knee, with his girlish hand chapped with the wind and the cracks filled with grime, knuckling down and lofting on the ducks in the middle of a bull ring, or with doubled fists standing over his marbles, defending his property against some young highwayman from the rolling mill on the river bank!
As the New York boys would say, "He wouldn't be in it." No, the house is the place for him. This is a rough world, and it requires experiences outside of a gentle, loving mother's care or the sweet lady-like tuition of a governess to fit a lad for the battle of life.
What we want for a playmate is a fair and square fellow, who will stand by a friend through thick and thin, and, without being quarrelsome, defend his rights and never "weaken." It is unnecessary to say that such a lad's love of justice will always prevent him from imposing upon smaller boys and his manliness will cause him to treat his companion and the girls with courtesy. You need not watch him in any game, for he will not cheat. Among my old schoolmates I have known many such fellows, and, to a man, they are all good fellows now; good citizens, good fathers, and they still enjoy watching the boys play the games they used to excel themselves.
OHB
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