plans of the head of the family, in general if not in detail. The mother's work is ever before the eyes of all the members of the family, including the boys and men. This co-operative unity must have a powerful effect upon the life of the family. Perhaps it has a tendency to give that life too much of an industrial character. There may be too much inclination to "talk shop." There may be too little opportunity for the cultivation of the heart life, or of the hearth life, of the family; but there is a certain solidarity in the farm family that makes for the permanency of the institution.

3. Speaking particularly now of the youth growing up in the farm family, it can hardly be gainsaid that family life in the open country is remarkably educative. First, by reason of the fact that both the boys and girls, from even tender years, learn to participate in real tasks. They do not merely play at doing things, they do them. They achieve real results. They take part in the world's work; and, secondly, by association with older heads in this work, by having a share in these real problems, by understanding at an early age the good or evil results that come from definite lines of action, there comes a certain maturity of mind, a certain sureness of touch, when a job is to be done, that must be a powerful means of development, particularly in an age when the achievement of tasks is the keynote of success.

4. I believe that, on the whole, the moral standards of the farm family, as a family, are kept on a very high plane; partly by the fact of farm interests already alluded to, and partly by the openness of life prevalent in country districts. There are in the country few hiding places for vice, and vice usually has enough modesty not to wish to stalk abroad. I do not mean to say that the moral influences of the country are only good; but I do say that, so far as the purity of the family as an institution is concerned, the country mode of living is conducive to a very high standard.

Thus far I have named those reactions of the environment upon the rural family which seem to be, on the whole, favorable. There is something to say on the other side.

1. Probably, on the whole, mediocre standards are encour

aged. If you are brought up in the Ghetto of New York, and manage to get money enough together, you can move up on Fifth Avenue, if you want to. The average farmer doesn't move unless he moves to town, or to a new region. If low standards prevail in the community, a particular family is likely to find itself influenced by these lower standards. There is a tendency to level down, because of the law of moral gravitation, and because it takes a long time to elevate any community standard. The average country communities are illustrating some of the disadvantages, as well as some of the advantages, of democracy. In some farm communities, the presence of hired laborers in the family circle has been distinctly deleterious to good social customs, if nothing else. In the country there is a tendency toward a general neighborhood life on the social side. There is a probability that aspiration, for either personal or community ideals, will get a set away from the farm, with the result that these ideals are likely to lapse in the country.

2. A great deal of farm life is of such a character that it makes it very hard for the mother of the family. Perhaps the effects of isolation are more abiding in her case than in that of any other member of the family. This is not to give currency to the popular, but I think erroneous, notion that there is a larger proportion of insanity among farm women than among other classes; but it cannot be denied that the type of work in the farm home in many communities, and few social opportunities, are likely to give a narrowness that must have its result on the general life of the family.

3. The health of the average individual of the country is all that could be desired, at least during the earlier years; but it is not unfair to say that the sanitary conditions, from the public point of view, are not good in the average open country. This must have considerable effect, in the long run, upon the health of the family, and must have a bearing upon the development of family life.

4. There is, on the whole, a serious lack of recreative life in the open country, and this fact unquestionably has a strong influence upon the atmosphere of the average farm home. It tends

to give a certain hardness and bareness that are not proper soil for the finer fruits of life.

5. The lack of steady income of the farmer's family is a factor that has a great deal to do with the attitude of the members of the family toward life, toward expenditures, toward culture wants, and toward those classes of people that have salaries or other steady income.

It should be noted that country life develops certain traits in the individual, which, without any special regard to the question of family life, must nevertheless influence the general spirit of the family. I refer particularly to the intense individualism of the country, and the lack of the co-operative spirit. There is neighborliness in the country; there is intense democracy; there is a high sense of individual responsibility; there is initiative; but this over-development of the individual results in anaemic social life, which in turn reacts powerfully upon the general life of the family.

To my mind, the advantages of the country, in respect to family life, far outweigh its disadvantages. This statement must, of course, be understood to have in mind the great mass of farm families, as compared with the great mass of urban families of somewhat similar industrial and social standards. I make no defense of many woe-begone rural communities that can be found in all sections of the country. But I do believe that, on the whole, the family life of the open country, whether judged with respect to its intrinsic worth, its effect on the growing children, its permanency as a social institution, or its usefulness as a factor in our national civilization, is worthy of high praise.

DISCUSSION

PAUL U. KELLOGG, NEW YORK CITY

There are four points which I should like to make. In such a discussion I am under no special obligation to relate them to each other.

In his annual address President Patten made a plea for the pushing out of the economist and his works into practical affairs. Three years ago in a talk which he gave to a group of visitors of a charitable society, he told them that dealing as they were with lop-sided families, families which had something ailing with them, they were bound to get lop-sided views of

relief. They should study for every family they dealt with on a philanthropic basis, one normal family. This preachment strikes me as indicating a line of joint activity for the economist and the social worker-where the broad view of the one and the methods of the other could be brought together. The case records of charitable societies have long been storehouses of valuable social information. They have been analyzed on the basis of the causes which throw these families into positions of dependence. In the Pittsburgh survey we have applied these methods of investigation and record-taking to normal families, which may not be thrown into dependence but are thrown into economic distress and lessened economic efficiency, by disease or accident. We have taken out as units for study not the cases applying for charitable relief, but certain geographical areas or periods of time. Comparing cities of corresponding size for the past five years, Pittsburgh has ranked first and highest in both typhoid fever and industrial casualties. These two are the prime expression on the one hand of civic neglect, and on the other, industrial hazard and ruthlessness. Our purpose was to measure the social effects on the people themselves. Here we had units more compelling than death statistics, or tax-costs.

This was illustrated in the economic study of typhoid fever by Mr. Frank E. Wing, associate director, who collected data for six wards for a year, showing the proportion of wage-earners among typhoid patients, the income before and since, the number of weeks sick, the loss in wages by patients and by those who are obliged to give up work to care for them, sickness expenditure for doctors, nurses, medicines, foods, funerals; and the less tangible but even more severe tax involved in lessened vitality, lessened earning power, and broken-up homes, which follow in the wake of typhoid. Of 1,029 cases in six wards reported in one year, 448 cases were found and studied. Of these 26 died. One hundred and eighty-seven wage-earners lost 1,901 weeks' work. Other wage-earners, not patients, lost 322 weeks-a total loss in wages of $28,899. The cost of 90 patients treated in hospitals at public or private expense was $4,165; of 338 patients cared for at home, $21,000 in doctors' bills, nurses, ice, foods, medicines; of 26 funerals, $3,186. The result was a total cost of $58,262 in less than half the cases of six wards in one year-wards in which both income and sickness expense were at a minimum. But there were other even more serious drains. A girl of twenty-two, who worked on stogies, was left in a very nervous condition, not so strong as before, and consequently could not attain her former speed. A blacksmith will probably never work at his trade with his former strength. A sixteen-year-old girl developed tuberculosis and was left in a weakened physical condition. A tailor cannot work as long hours as before and was reduced $1 a week in wages. A boy of eight was very nervous, would not sit still in school, and was rapidly becoming a truant.

Similarly in the case of industrial accidents. At this morning's session Miss Eastman has told you of the economic incidence as found by her

analysis of the 500 industrial deaths in Allegheny in the course of the year studied, where half of those killed were under thirty years of age, where half were getting less than $15 per week, where half had families to support, and where, of these latter cases, less than half received any contribution whatever from the employer toward the income loss.

Dr. Patten has told us that the greatest need of the generation is the socialization of law. Here we were putting court decisions and the masterand-servant law to a pragmatic test, apart from any legal theories of liberty of contract and assumption of risk. How does the common law work out in practice? How does it cash in when it comes to the common welfare? Similar card systems have since been made use of in Wisconsin and Illinois.

My point is, then, that the family affords a responsive, delicate litmus for testing many of the economic facts of the present-day social order. Its usefulness as such is only as yet partly explored. The serious studies recently made of standards of living-not of dependent families, nor even of normal families under emergent stress, but just the everyday economic issues of life, are perhaps the purest examples of such scientific treatment. Such studies as Mr. Chapin has made illustrate the large body of social facts available from such sources.

My second point is that we are dealing in Pittsburgh with overloaded families. In agricultural and domestic industry great numbers of household operations were performed as by-products by the male workers. Thus the water supply for a man's kine and for his household were identical. Not only is this changed with the division of labor, but the household must be maintained amid city conditions where the single family unit cannot master many wants, and in industrial towns badly located for any purpose other than production. My point is illustrated by a dispute between the superintendent of the Pittsburgh Bureau of Health and the controller of the city, since deceased, a bluff, honest, old-fashioned saver of city funds. The superintendent of the Bureau of Health wanted a rubbish-removal system; the controller held that rubbish removal was a householder's private duty. "It is as if," said Dr. Edwards, "every householder in Pittsburgh used his ashes to build his front walks, lit his morning fires with old newspapers, and fed his swill to the pigs." Dumping-places are few and remote in Pittsburgh, and the results have been that every alley, gutter, and corner has festered with refuse; and the problem of keeping the city clean and well has been a hundred fold increased. Long, scientific, medical names on a death certificate, translated in common parlance, were nothing more than a filthy tin can plus a house fly.

Similarly, we find Pittsburgh for the last ten years knowing its typhoid problem was a water problem and yet depending for immunity upon bottled water at 15c per bottle; and we find 50,000 old individual privy vaults in the city proper. Time does not admit of the expansion of this idea, from these homely illustrations to some of the more debatable undertakings of