“Please Don’t”—An Appeal

Northern Advocate, 1 October 1938, Page 6 (Supplement)

“Please Don’t”—An Appeal

A human appeal for safety first, which, if heeded, might serve a greater purpose than a host of warning signs, is made with the following letter, addressed to Motorist by “Dad,” in an American paper:— Today my daughter, who is seven years old, started to school as usual. She wore a little gingham dress with a white collar. She wore a saucy little beret on her lively brown curls. Her cocker-spaniel, whose name is Scott,

sat on the front porch and whined his canine belief in the folly of education as she waved “good-bye” and started off to the halls of learning.

Tonight we talked about school. She told me about the girl who sits in front of her, the girl with yellow curls, and the boy across the aisle who makes funny faces. She told me about her teacher who has eyes in the back of her head, about the trees in the schoolyard, and about the big girl who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. We talked about a lot of things—tremendously vital, unimportant things—and then we studied spelling, feading and arithmetic—and then to bed. She’s back there now, back in the nursery, sound asleep, with “princess Elizabeth” (that’s a doll) cuddled in her right arm.

You, Mr Motorist, wouldn’t hurt her, would you? You see, I’m her daddy, When her doll is broken or her finger cut or her head bumped, I can fix it, but when she starts to school, when she walks across the street, then she’s

in your hands. She’s a nice kid —she can run like a deer and darts about like a chipmunk. But I can’t be with her all the time. I have to work to pay for her clothes and her education. So please help me look out for her. Please drive carefully, please drive slowly past the schools and intersections, and please remember that children run from behind parked cars. Please don’t run over my little girl.