LIST OF BOOKS

RECENTLY PUBLISHED, AND PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION,

BY

C. S. FRANCIS & CO.

252 BROADWAY,
New-York.

I.

HISTORY OF THE CONDITION OF WOMEN IN VARIOUS AGES AND COUNTRIES.

BY L. MARIA CHILD. 2 vols.

II.

THE DREAM, AND OTHER POEMS.

BY HON. MRS. NORTON.

III.

THE CHILD OF THE ISLANDS. A Poem.

BY HON. MRS. NORTON.

IV.

MEMOIR OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF FELICIA HEMANS, BY HER SISTER,

With an Essay on her Genius, by Mrs. Sigourney.

V.

ZENOBIA; OR THE FALL OF PALMYRA.

BY REV. WM. WARE. 2 vols. A new edition.

VI.

TRAGEDIES AND POEMS.

BY T. NOON TALFOURD.

VII.

LALLA ROOKH.

BY THOMAS MOORE. A new edition.

VIII.

THE EPICUREAN.

BY THOMAS MOORE. A new edition.

IX.

POEMS AND ORATIONS OF CHARLES SPRAGUE.

X.

COMPLETE WORKS OF FELICIA HEMANS. WITH MEMOIR BY HER SISTER,

And Essay by Mrs. Sigourney. In seven volumes. Large type. Beautifully printed.

XI.

ANOTHER EDITION OF MRS. HEMANS’ COMPLETE WORKS.

In three volumes.—Large type.

XII.

JULIAN; OR SCENES IN JUDEA BY THE AUTHOR OF ZENOBIA.

XIII.

LETTERS FROM NEW YORK.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XIV.

LETTERS FROM NEW YORK.

Second Series.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XV.

MENTAL AND MORAL CULTURE AND POPULAR EDUCATION.

BY S. S. RANDALL.

XVI.

A NEW HOME—WHO’LL FOLLOW?

BY MRS. KIRKLAND.

XVII.

THE MOTHER’S BOOK.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XVIII.

POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

In seven volumes. With illustrations.

XIX.

GOOD WIVES.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XX.

SORROWS OF ROSALIE, AND OTHER POEMS.

BY MRS. NORTON.

XXI.

THE UNDYING ONE, AND OTHER POEMS.

BY MRS. NORTON.

XXII.

MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE STAEL AND OF MADAME ROLAND.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XXIII.

POEMS OF THOMAS CAMPBELL. Complete.

A new edition.

XXIV.

THE WISDOM AND GENIUS OF SHAKSPERE.

BY REV. THOMAS PRICE.

XXV.

WARRENIANA.

With Notes—Critical and Explanatory.

XXVI.

DRAMAS ON THE PASSIONS.

BY JOANNA BAILLIE.

XXVII.

POEMS OF JOANNA BAILLIE.

XXVIII.

MEMOIRS OF LADY RUSSELL AND OF MADAME GUION.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

XXIX.

SPECIMENS OF THE EARLY ENGLISH POETS.

BY GEORGE ELLIS.

XXX.

LEGENDS OF LAMPIDOSA, AND SECRETS OF CABALISM.

XXXI.

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS’ DISCOURSES ON PAINTING.

THE
MOTHER’S BOOK.

BY L. MARIA CHILD,
AUTHOR OF THE FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE, THE GIRL’S OWN BOOK, PHILOTHEA, LETTERS FROM NEW YORK, &C.

The child is father of the man;
And I could wish his days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

Wordsworth.

Do you ask, then, what will educate your son? Your example will educate him; your conversation; the business he sees you transact; the likings and dislikings you express,—these will educate him; the society you live in will educate him.—Mrs. Barbauld.

SIXTH EDITION,
WITH CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS BY THE AUTHOR.

NEW YORK:
C. S. FRANCIS & CO., 252 BROADWAY.
BOSTON:
JOSEPH H. FRANCIS, 128 WASHINGTON STREET.
1846.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844,
BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO.,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York.

TO
AMERICAN MOTHERS,
ON
WHOSE INTELLIGENCE AND DISCRETION
THE
SAFETY AND PROSPERITY
OF OUR
REPUBLIC SO MUCH DEPEND,
This Volume
IS
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.

PREFACE.

When I wrote the ‘Frugal Housewife,’ some booksellers declined publishing it, on account of the great variety of cookery books already in the market. I was perfectly aware of this circumstance; but among them all, I did not know of one suited to the wants of the middling class in our own country. I believed such a book was needed; and the sale of more than six thousand copies in one year has proved that I was right in my conjecture.

If the same remark is made with regard to adding another to the numerous books on education, I have the same answer to give—I do not know of one adapted to popular use in this country.

I make no pretensions to great originality. The leading principles contained in this little volume have already been advanced in the standard works on education; and I owe a great deal to frequent conversations with an intelligent and judicious mother. Perhaps some will think there is egotism and presumption in the frequent repetition of ‘I think,’ and ‘I believe,’ and ‘It is my opinion’—but it must be remembered that this could not well be avoided in a work where familiarity and directness of expression were particularly required.

I have endeavored to give the result of my own reading and observation in maxims of plain practical good-sense, written with earnestness and simplicity of style. How far I have succeeded must be decided by my readers.

INTRODUCTION.

I cannot offer a better or more appropriate introduction to this work, than an extract from Mr. Francis’ Discourse on Errors in Education.

‘It is not easy to estimate the influence even of what may seem an inconsiderable effort, when directed to such an object as education. It has been said, that a stone thrown into the sea agitates more or less every drop in that vast expanse of waters. So it may be with the influence we exert on the minds and hearts of the young. Who can tell what may be the effects of a single good principle deeply fixed, a single pure and virtuous association strongly riveted, a single happy turn effectually given to the thoughts and affections? It may spread a salutary and sacred influence over the whole life and through the whole mass of the character of the child. Nay, more, as the characters of others, who are to come after him, may, and probably will, depend much on his, the impulse we give may not cease in him who first received it: it may go down from one generation to another, widening and deepening its influences as it goes, reaching forth with various modifications, more or less direct, till the track of its agency shall be completely beyond human calculation.’

‘We are told, that when Antipater demanded of the Lacedemonians fifty of their children as hostages, they replied that they would rather surrender fifty of the most eminent men in the state, whose principles were already formed, than children to whom the want of early instruction would be a loss altogether irreparable. The Spartans were wise; and shall Christians be less so? Oh no;—for we believe that our labor cannot perish even with life;—we believe that, even if the inscrutable providence of God removes these objects of affection from us, neither the pleasure they have poured into our hearts, nor the good we have imparted to them will, or can, be lost.’

CONTENTS.

THE MOTHER’S BOOK.

CHAPTER I.
THE BODILY SENSES.

Few people think that the management of very young babes has anything to do with their future dispositions and characters; yet I believe it has more influence than can easily be calculated. One writer on education even ventures to say, that the heaviness of the Dutch and the vivacity of the French are owing to the different manner in which infants are treated in those two countries.

The Dutch keep their children in a state of repose, always rocking, or jogging them; the French are perpetually tossing them about, and showing them lively tricks. I think a medium between these two extremes would be the most favorable to a child’s health and faculties.

An infant is, for a while, totally ignorant of the use of the senses with which he is endowed. At first, he does not see objects; and when he sees them, he does not know that he can touch them. ‘He is obliged to serve an apprenticeship to the five senses,’ and at every step he needs assistance in learning his trade. Any one can see that assistance tends to quicken the faculties, by observing how much faster a babe improves, when daily surrounded by little brothers and sisters.

But in trying to excite an infant’s attention, care should be taken not to confuse and distract him. His soul, like his body, is weak, and requires to have but little sustenance at a time, and to have it often. Gentleness, patience, and love, are almost everything in education; especially to those helpless little creatures, who have just entered into a world where everything is new and strange to them. Gentleness is a sort of mild atmosphere; and it enters into a child’s soul, like the sunshine into the rose-bud, slowly but surely expanding it into beauty and vigor.

All loud noises and violent motions should be avoided. They pain an infant’s senses, and distract his faculties. I have seen impatient nurses thrust a glaring candle before the eyes of a fretful babe, or drum violently on the table, or rock the cradle like an earth-quake. These things may stop a child’s cries for a short time, because the pain they occasion his senses draws his attention from the pain which first induces him to cry; but they do not comfort or soothe him. As soon as he recovers from the distraction they have occasioned, he will probably cry again, and even louder than before. Besides the pain given to his mind, violent measures are dangerous to the bodily senses. Deafness and weakness of eye-sight may no doubt often be attributed to such causes as I have mentioned; and physicians are agreed that the dropsy on the brain is frequently produced by violent rocking.

Unless a child’s cries are occasioned by sharp bodily pain, they may usually be pacified by some pleasing object, such as stroking a kitten, or patting the dog; and if their tears are really occasioned by acute pain, is it not cruel to add another suffering, by stunning them with noise, or blinding them with light?

Attention should be early aroused by presenting attractive objects—things of bright and beautiful colors, but not glaring—and sounds pleasant and soft to the ear. When you have succeeded in attracting a babe’s attention to any object, it is well to let him examine it just as long as he chooses. Every time he turns it over, drops it, and takes it up again, he adds something to the little stock of his scanty experience. When his powers of attention are wearied, he will soon enough show it by his actions. A multitude of new playthings, crowded upon him one after another, only serve to confuse him. He does not learn as much, because he does not have time to get acquainted with the properties of any one of them. Having had his little mind excited by a new object, he should be left in quiet, to toss, and turn, and jingle it, to his heart’s content. If he look up in the midst of his play, a smile should be always ready for him, that he may feel protected and happy in the atmosphere of love.

It is important that children, even when babes, should never be spectators of anger, or any evil passion. They come to us from heaven, with their little souls full of innocence and peace; and, as far as possible, a mother’s influence should not interfere with the influence of angels.

The first and most important thing, in order to effect this is, that the mother should keep her own spirit in tranquillity and purity; for it is beyond all doubt that the state of a mother affects her child. There are proofs that it is true, both with regard to mind and body. A mere babe will grieve and sob at the expression of distress on a mother’s countenance; he cannot possibly know what that expression means, but he feels that it is something painful—his mother’s state affects him.

Effects on the bodily constitution will be more readily believed than effects on the mind, because the most thoughtless can see the one, and they cannot see the other. Children have died in convulsions, in consequence of nursing a mother, while under the influence of violent passion or emotion; and who can tell how much of moral evil may be traced to the states of mind indulged by a mother, while tending the precious little being, who receives everything from her?

Therefore the first rule, and the most important of all, in education, is, that a mother govern her own feelings, and keep her heart and conscience pure.

The next most important thing appears to me to be, that a mother, as far as other duties will permit, take the entire care of her own child. I am aware that people of moderate fortune cannot attend exclusively to an infant. Other cares claim a share of attention, and sisters, or domestics, must be intrusted; but where this must necessarily be the case, the infant should, as much as possible, feel its mother’s guardianship. If in the same room, a smile, or a look of fondness, should now and then be bestowed upon him; and if in an adjoining room, some of the endearing appellations to which he has been accustomed, should once in a while meet his ear. The knowledge that his natural protector and best friend is near, will give him a feeling of safety and protection alike conducive to his happiness and beneficial to his temper.

You may say, perhaps, that a mother’s instinct teaches fondness, and there is no need of urging that point; but the difficulty is, mothers are sometimes fond by fits and starts—they follow impulse, not principle. Perhaps the cares of the world vex or discourage you—and you do not, as usual, smile upon your babe when he looks up earnestly in your face,—or you are a little impatient at his fretfulness. Those who know your inquietudes may easily excuse this; but what does the innocent being before you know of care and trouble? And why should you distract his pure nature by the evils you have received from a vexatious world? It does you no good, and it injures him.

Do you say it is impossible always to govern one’s feelings? There is one method, a never-failing one—prayer. It consoles and strengthens the wounded heart, and tranquillizes the most stormy passions. You will say, perhaps, that you have not leisure to pray every time your temper is provoked, or your heart is grieved.—It requires no time—the inward ejaculation of ‘Lord, help me to overcome this temptation,’ may be made in any place and amid any employments; and if uttered in humble sincerity, the voice that said to the raging waters, ‘Peace! Be still!’ will restore quiet to your troubled soul.

As the first step in education, I have recommended gentle, but constant efforts to attract the attention, and improve the bodily senses. I would here suggest the importance of preserving the organs of those senses in full vigor. For instance, the cradle should be so placed that the face of the infant may be in shade. A stream of light is dangerous to his delicate organs of vision; and if it be allowed to come in at one side, he may turn his eyes, in the effort to watch it. Glaring red curtains and brilliantly striped Venetian carpeting are bad things in a nursery, for similar reasons.

I have said nothing concerning the physical wants of children,—their food, diseases, &c,—because such subjects are not embraced in the design of the present work.

The judicious and experienced are universally agreed that the best books for these purposes are, ‘Dewees’ Treatise upon Children,’ and ‘Advice to Young Mothers, By a Grandmother.’

CHAP. II.
THE AFFECTIONS.

The cultivation of the affections comes next to the development of the bodily senses; or rather they may be said to begin together, so early does the infant heart receive impressions. The uniform gentleness, to which I have before alluded, and the calm state of the mother’s own feelings, have much to do with the affections of the child.

Kindness toward animals is of great importance. Children should be encouraged in pitying their distress; and if guilty of any violent treatment toward them, they should see that you are grieved and displeased at such conduct.

Before showing any disapprobation of his conduct, however, it should be explained to a very young child when he really does hurt an animal; for young children are often cruel from the mere thoughtlessness of frolic; they strike an animal as they would strike a log of wood, without knowing that they occasion pain.

I once saw a mother laugh very heartily at the distressed face of a kitten, which a child of two years old was pulling backward by the tail. At last, the kitten, in self-defence, turned and scratched the boy. He screamed, and his mother ran to him, kissed the wound, and beat the poor kitten, saying all the time, ‘Naughty kitten, to scratch John! I’ll beat her for scratching John! There, ugly puss!’

This little incident, trifling as it seems, no doubt had important effects on the character of the child; especially as a mother, who would do such a thing once, would be very likely to do it habitually.

In the first place, the child was encouraged in cruelty, by seeing that it gave his mother amusement. Had she explained to him that he was hurting the kitten, and expressed her pity by saying, ‘Oh, don’t hurt kitty—she is a good little puss—and she loves John’—what a different impression would have been made on his infant heart!

In the next place, the kitten was struck for defending herself; this was injustice to the injured animal, and a lesson of tyranny to the boy. In the third place, striking the kitten because she had scratched him, was teaching him retaliation. For that reason, a chair or a foot-stool, against which he had accidentally hurt himself, should never be struck, or treated in an angry manner. You know, to be sure, that an inanimate object is not capable of feeling pain; but your infant does not know it; the influence upon him is, that it is right to injure when we are injured.

It is a common opinion that a spirit of revenge is natural to children. No doubt bad temper, as well as other evils, moral and physical, are often hereditary—and here is a fresh reason for being good ourselves, if we would have our children good. But allowing that evil propensities are hereditary, and therefore born with children, how are they excited, and called into action?

First, by the influences of the nursery—those early influences, which, beginning as they do with life itself, are easily mistaken for the operations of nature; and in the second place, by the temptations of the world.

Now, if a child has ever so bad propensities, if the influences of the nursery be pure and holy, his evils will never be excited, or roused into action, until his understanding is enlightened, and his principles formed, so that he has power to resist them. The temptations of the world will then do him no harm; he will ‘overcome evil with good.’

But if, on the other hand, the influences of the nursery are bad, the weak passions of the child are strengthened before his understanding is made strong; he gets into habits of evil before he is capable of perceiving that they are evil. Consequently, when he comes out into the world, he brings no armor against its temptations. Evil is within and without. And should the Lord finally bring him out of Egypt, it must be after a dark, and weary bondage.

The mind of a child is not like that of a grown person, too full and too busy to observe everything; it is a vessel empty and pure—always ready to receive, and always receiving.

Every look, every movement, every expression, does something toward forming the character of the little heir to immortal life.

Do you regard it as too much trouble thus to keep watch over yourself? Surely the indulgence of evil is no privilege: the yoke of goodness is far lighter and easier to bear, than the bondage of evil. Is not the restraint you impose upon yourself for the good of your child, blessed, doubly blessed, to your own soul? Does not the little cherub in this way guide you to heaven, marking the pathway by the flowers he scatters as he goes.

The rule, then, for developing good affections in a child is, that he never be allowed to see or feel the influence of bad passions, even in the most trifling things; and in order to effect this, you must drive evil passions out of your own heart. Nothing can be real that has not its home within us. The only sure way, as well as the easiest, to appear good, is to be good.

It is not possible to indulge anger, or any other wrong feeling, and conceal it entirely. If not expressed in words, a child feels the baneful influence. Evil enters into his soul, as the imperceptible atmosphere he breathes enters into his lungs: and the beautiful little image of God is removed farther and farther from his home in heaven.

CHAP. III.
INTELLECT.—ATTENTION.

The first effort of intellect is to associate the names of objects with the sight of them. To assist a babe in this particular, when you direct his attention to any object, speak the name of the object, slowly and distinctly. After a few times, he will know the thing by its name; and if you say Dog, when the dog is not in the room, he will show that he knows what you mean, by looking round in search of him.

By degrees, a few words can be added. He will soon learn to repeat, ‘Good little dog;’ and though he may not have very exact ideas of what good means, the tone of the voice, and the manner in which you speak, will make him think it is something pleasant. When you draw a child’s attention to a living thing, it is well to accompany it with some endearment to the animal; this will awaken his affections, as well as his thoughts. In teaching a child to talk, low, mild tones should be used.

Too much cannot be said on the importance of giving children early habits of observation. This must be done by teaching them to pay attention to surrounding objects, and to inquire the why and wherefore of everything. No doubt many mothers will say, ‘I cannot thus train the minds of my children; for it is my misfortune not to have had an education myself.’ This answer is very frequently given; and if by education is meant book-learning, the excuse is indeed a poor one. Good judgment, kind feelings, and habitual command over one’s own passions, are necessary in the education of children; but learning is not necessary. The mother, who has had no other advantages than are furnished by a public school in a remote country village, knows a great many more things than a child of three or four years can possibly know. Early accustom your children to inquire about the things they handle. What if you cannot always answer them? You do them an immense deal of good by giving their minds active habits. If a spirit of inquiry is once aroused, it will, sooner or later, find means to satisfy itself; and thus the inquisitive boy will become an energetic, capable man.

I will give some familiar instances of what I mean. Generally speaking, when mothers have done superintending domestic concerns for the day, and have seated themselves, to ‘take some comfort,’ as the phrase is, ‘with their children,’ they spend the time in trotting them, or shaking the rattle, or dragging about the little cart, or repeating over and over again, ‘pat a cake, pat a cake.’ Now this is extremely well; and should on no account be omitted. But something ought to be mixed with these plays to give the child habits of thought. Toys amuse him for the time; but he grows weary of them, and when he does not hear, or see them, they do not furnish anything for him to think about. But should you, while tossing a ball, stop and say, ‘This ball is round; this little tea-table is square. Now George knows what round and square mean,’—it would give him something to think about. When he has a new toy, he will think to himself whether it is round or square. It is not well to tell him more than one thing at a time, or to enter into any detailed explanations. It is a bad thing to have infant attention wearied. It is enough for him to know that the ball is round and the table square. When he is older, you can explain to him that a square has always equal sides, and that the edge of a round thing is always equally distant from the centre.

Another day, should you show him your ball of yarn, and ask him if it be round or square, the chance is, he will answer correctly. If he does recollect what you have told him, it will make his little heart very happy; and should you reward his answer with a smile and a kiss, you will undoubtedly have done much to awaken his powers of observation.

So much for the first step.—At another time, should you chance to be spinning a dollar, or a cent, for his amusement, you can, in the midst of the play, stop and say, ‘This dollar is round, as well as the ball; but the dollar is flat, and the ball is not flat. If George puts his hand on the dollar, he will feel that it is flat; and if he puts his hand on the ball, he will feel that it is not flat. Now George knows what flat means.’ Here I would remark, that if the child is impatient to have the dollar spinning, and does not love to hear about its form, it is unwise to cross his inclinations. We never remember so well what we do not love to hear; and forced instruction is apt to injure the temper, and give an early aversion to knowledge.

We are apt to forget that things long familiar to us are entirely unknown to an infant. There is hardly anything connected with his little wants, which may not be made a pleasant medium of instruction. When eating a piece of bread, the following questions may be asked and answered. ‘What is bread made of?’ ‘I don’t know; what is it made of, mother?’ ‘It is made of grain; sometimes of rye, sometimes of Indian meal, and sometimes of flour.’ ‘What is grain made of?’ ‘It grows in the field. The farmers plant it in the ground, and God causes it to grow.’

When a child is playing with his kitten, it is easy to mix instruction with his enjoyment, by saying, ‘Feel pussy’s fur—how smooth it is. Feel this piece of coral—how rough it is. Pussy’s fur is smooth, and the coral is rough. Now George knows what smooth and rough mean.’

As he grows older, the information given him may be of a higher character. He can be told, ‘The andirons are made of brass. Brass is called a metal; it is dug out of the earth.’ At another time, he may be asked, ‘What is the cover of your book made of?’ If he answer, ‘Of leather,’ ask him what leather is made of. If he does not know, tell him it is made of a calf’s skin. Then ask him whether the cover of his book is a metal. If he say, ‘No,’ ask him what is the reason it is not. If he cannot answer, tell him, ‘Because metals are always dug out of the earth. Leather is not dug out of the earth; it is made of calf-skin; therefore it is an animal substance, not a metal. Does George know what an animal is? It is a creature that grows, and can move about from one place to another. Your kitten is an animal; she grows bigger every day; and she moves about. The brass andirons are not animals. They do not grow any larger, and they cannot move.’ Afterward, when a proper opportunity occurs, ask him to tell you the difference between a metal and an animal.

If he bring you a rose, you can say, ‘Thank you, George, for this rose. Now, can you tell me what it is? Is it a metal?’ ‘No.’ ‘Is it an animal?’ ‘I should think not, mother.’ ‘What is it, then?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘I will tell you. It is a vegetable. Vegetables grow out of the earth. They are not like metals, because they grow larger and larger; and they are not like animals, because they cannot move of themselves. What are you, George?’ ‘I am not a metal, for I grow bigger every day. I am not a vegetable, for I can walk. I think I am an animal.’ ‘Right, my dear son. Now you know the meaning of metals, animals, and vegetables.’

Such conversations as these will make his thoughts busy; and when he takes a book he will probably ask, ‘What are the leaves of books made of?’ ‘They are made of paper.’ ‘What is paper made of?’ ‘Of rags.’ ‘What are rags made of?’ ‘Sometimes of linen, and sometimes of cotton. Cotton grows in a pod, and linen is made from a plant called flax.’ ‘Then the leaves of my book are vegetable.’ This discovery, simple as it is, will afford the boy great pleasure, and will make it more easy to exercise his powers of thought.

I dare say the preceding hints will sound silly enough to many mothers; but they are nevertheless founded in reason and sound sense. It is a fact that children, thus early accustomed to observe, will have a wonderful power of amusing themselves. They will examine every figure in the carpet, and think to themselves whether it is round, or square; and will sit, by the half hour, quietly watching the figures on copper-plate, or calico.

Arithmetic may very early be made a source of amusement; for children can very soon learn to count sticks or marbles, and tell how many they should have left, if you should take away any given number.

With regard to the kind of information conveyed, as well as the quantity, that should depend upon the child’s age, intelligence, and progress; things which no person can have an opportunity to observe and know, so well as a mother. The system of making use of all the common incidents of life to convey knowledge, and improve the heart, may be begun in the earliest childhood, and continued even until youth ripens into manhood. I will give a simple instance: Quite a large boy, when sailing in a boat, may be asked to observe how the hills and the trees seem to move from him, while in fact the boat alone is moving. The simple fact may not be of much consequence to him; for if he is a bright boy, he would have noticed it himself, without being asked to attend to it: but you can make it the means of illustrating another idea, by saying, ‘Just so the sun seems to move round the earth; but it does not move. The sun stands still, as the hills and trees do; but the earth is moving all the time.’

I am aware that these habits of inquiry are at times very troublesome; for no one, however patient, can be always ready to answer the multitude of questions a child is disposed to ask. But it must be remembered that all good things are accompanied with inconveniences. The care of children requires a great many sacrifices, and a great deal of self-denial; but the woman, who is not willing to sacrifice a good deal in such a cause, does not deserve to be a mother. Besides, the thoughtless, indolent parent, who is not willing to make sacrifices, and take trouble, does in fact have the most trouble; for the evils she would not check at first, when it might easily have been done, afterward grow too strong for her management.

But to return to the subject of asking questions. It is a spirit which should not be discouraged; but at the same time, children should be taught that they cannot always be attended to. If you are otherwise occupied, and their inquiries distract you, think a moment, and collect yourself, lest you should answer pettishly.

Do not say, ‘How you plague me, Jane! I wish you would go away, and keep still!’ But say, ‘I am very busy now, Jane. I cannot attend to you. If you will remember to ask me by and by, when I can attend to you, I will talk with you about it.’ If the child persists, the answer should be, ‘You know I always tell you what you ask, when I am not very busy. I cannot attend to you now; and if you teaze me, I shall be very sorry; for I shall be obliged to put you out of the room.’ After this threat is once made, nothing should induce you to refrain from observing it. In order that your child may be easily satisfied with these kind, but firm refusals, when you are busy, you should try to bear in mind the question she has asked, and take the first leisure moment to reply to it. This will give her confidence in what you have said; and she will know it was not done merely to put her off.

Perhaps another difficulty may occur; your children may ask questions that you do not know how to answer In that case, as in all others, the honest truth should be told. The reply should be, ‘I do not know. When father comes home, we will ask him; perhaps he can tell us.’ If father does not know, the answer should be, ‘As soon as you have money enough, I will buy you a book, that will tell all about it:’ and this, like all other things that are promised, should be done.

If, as is often the case, a child asks an explanation, which would be altogether above his powers of comprehension, the answer should be, ‘If I were to tell you, you could not understand it now. You must wait till you are older.’ If your child has been early accustomed to the strictest regard to truth, he will believe what you say, and try to be satisfied. Some children, being too much praised for their quickness, or their wit, ask a number of useless, pert questions. This disposition should be promptly and decidedly checked; for it is the germ of vanity and affectation. To avoid exciting this evil in the mind of a bright child, a very intelligent question, or remark, should never be quoted as anything remarkable, nor should he be at all encouraged to show off before company. The habit of reciting verses, and displaying other acquirements before strangers, seems to me the worst of all possible things for children. They should be taught to love knowledge for the sake of the good it will enable them to do others, not because they will gain praise by it. An inordinate love of reputation is always a powerful temptation to active minds; and the more the evil is fostered in the nursery, the harder it is to overcome. Children should hear learning, and wealth, and all other external gifts, spoken of according to their true value—that is, their usefulness. They should be told, ‘The more knowledge you gain, the more useful you can be, when you become a man.’

Perhaps you will say, that as your children grow older, they cannot help learning that a rose is a vegetable, the andirons a metal, &c.; and you will ask what is the use of teaching it to them a few years earlier than they would naturally take to find it out of themselves. I readily allow that the knowledge itself is of very little consequence to them; but the habits of attention and activity of mind, which you give them, are worth everything.

If you take the trouble to observe, you will find those who are the most useful, and of course the most successful, in any department, are those who are in the habit of observing closely, and thinking about what they observe.

Why is it that a botanist will see hundreds of plants in a field, which the careless stroller may pass again and again without perceiving? It is because his attention has been fixed upon plants. How is the great novelist enabled to give you such natural pictures of life and manners? A close attention to all the varieties of human character, enables him to represent them as they are.

You will find that a smart, notable housewife is always an ‘observing woman.’ What constitutes the difference between a neat, faithful domestic, and a heedless, sluttish one? One pays attention to what she is about, and the other does not. The slut’s hands may be very dirty, but she does not observe it; every time she takes hold of the door, she may leave it covered with black prints, but she does not observe it. One educated to attend to things about her, would immediately see these defects and remedy them.

We often hear it said, ‘Such a person has good sense, and good feelings; but, somehow or other, he has no faculty.’ The ‘faculty’ that is wanting is nothing more or less than active habits of observation acquired in early life.

Those who give their attention exclusively to one thing, become great in that one thing; and will in all probability be careless and unobserving about everything else. This sort of character is not desirable; for if it makes a man greater in one particular branch, it much impairs his general usefulness. In a woman it is peculiarly unfortunate; for, whether she be rich or poor, the sphere allotted her by Providence requires attention to many things.

Literary women are not usually domestic; not because they cannot easily be so—but because they early acquired the habit of attending to literary things, and of neglecting others. It is not true that intellectual pursuits leave no time to attend to the common concerns of life. A fashionable woman spends more time and thought about her dress, than the most learned woman spends about books. It is merely attention that is wanted to make the belle literary, and the learned lady domestic.

All the faculties of a child’s mind should be cultivated, and they should early acquire a power of varying their attention, so as to be able to bestow it easily upon any subject whatsoever. Some think it a sign of good sense to despise good taste; hence the universal complaint that scholars are awkward and slovenly. Unquestionably this is better than the silly pursuit of ever-varying fashion; but there is no need of either extreme—extremes always lie on one side or the other of truth and nature.

Some, seeing the disastrous effects of an over-heated imagination, think that any degree of imagination is inconsistent with good judgment. This is a mistake.—The finest imagination may be kept perfectly in check by good sense, provided all the powers of the mind are equally cultivated in early life. A great writer has said, ‘In forming the human character, we must not proceed as a statuary does in forming a statue, who works sometimes on the face, sometimes on the limbs, and sometimes on the folds of the drapery; but we must proceed (and it certainly is in our power) as nature does in forming a flower, or any other of her productions; she throws out altogether and at once the whole system of being, and the rudiments of all the parts.’

To a woman, the power of changing attention is peculiarly valuable. I have said that an exclusive attention to learning was a fault, as well as an exclusive attention to fashion; but while I condemn the excessive love of books, I must insist that the power of finding enjoyment in reading is above all price, particularly to a woman. A full mind is a great safeguard to virtue and happiness in every situation of life. Multitudes of people do wrong from mere emptiness of mind, and want of occupation.

Children should be early taught by example to listen attentively to intelligent conversation, and should afterward be encouraged in referring to it. This will occasion a thirst for information, which will lead to a love of reading. But while you try to encourage a love of books, remember to direct their attention to other things at the same time. For instance, show your daughter at which end you begin to grate a nutmeg, and explain to her that if you began at the end once fastened to the branch, it would grate full of holes; because the fibres which held it together were fastened at that place, and being broken, they fall out. When sewing, you can call attention to the fact that sewing-silk splits much better for being first drawn through the wax; and that a wristband is put on before the sleeve is sewed, because it can be managed more conveniently.

I mention these merely as familiar instances how the attention may be kept awake, and ready to devote itself to little things, as well as great. If a girl feels interested in nothing but books, she will in all probability be useless, or nearly so, in all the relations dearest to a good woman’s heart; if, on the other hand, she gives all her attention to household matters, she will become a mere drudge, and will lose many valuable sources of enjoyment and usefulness. This may be said in favor of an over-earnest love of knowledge—a great mind can attend to little things, but a little mind cannot attend to great things.

CHAP. IV.
MANAGEMENT.

This phrase is a very broad and comprehensive one. Under it I mean to include all that relates to rewards and punishments, and the adaptation of education to different characters and dispositions.

The good old fashioned maxim that ‘example is better than precept,’ is the best thing to begin with. The great difficulty in education is that we give rules instead of inspiring sentiments. The simple fact that your child never saw you angry, that your voice is always gentle, and the expression of your face always kind, is worth a thousand times more than all the rules you can give him about not beating his dog, pinching his brother, &c. It is in vain to load the understanding with rules, if the affections are not pure. In the first place, it is not possible to make rules enough to apply to all manner of cases; and if it were possible, a child would soon forget them. But if you inspire him with right feelings, they will govern his actions. All our thoughts and actions come from our affections; if we love what is good, we shall think and do what is good. Children are not so much influenced by what we say and do in particular reference to them, as by the general effect of our characters and conversation. They are in a great degree creatures of imitation. If they see a mother fond of finery, they become fond of finery; if they see her selfish, it makes them selfish; if they see her extremely anxious for the attention of wealthy people, they learn to think wealth is the only good.

Those whose early influence is what it should be, will find their children easy to manage, as they grow older.

An infant’s wants should be attended to without waiting for him to cry. At first, a babe cries merely from a sensation of suffering—because food, warmth, or other comforts necessary to his young existence, are withheld; but when he finds crying is the only means of attracting attention, he soon gets in the habit of crying for everything. To avoid this, his wants should be attended to, whether he demand it or not. Food, sleep, and necessary comforts should be supplied to him at such times as the experience of his mother may dictate. If he has been sitting on the floor, playing quietly by himself a good while, take him up and amuse him, if you can spare time, without waiting for weariness to render him fretful. Who can blame a child for fretting and screaming, if experience has taught him that he cannot get his wants attended to in any other manner?

Young children should never be made to cry by plaguing them, for the sake of fun; it makes them seriously unhappy for the time, and has an injurious effect upon their dispositions. When in any little trouble, they should be helped as quick as possible. When their feet are caught in the rounds of a chair, or their playthings entangled, or when any other of the thousand-and-one afflictions of baby-hood occur, it is an easy thing to teach them to wait by saying, ‘Stop a minute, and I will come to you.’ But do not say this, to put them off; attend to them as quick as your employments will permit; they will then wait patiently should another disaster occur. Children, who have entire confidence that the simple truth is always spoken to them, are rarely troublesome.

A silent influence, which they do not perceive, is better for young children than direct rules and prohibitions. For instance, should a child be in ill humor, without any apparent cause, (as will sometimes happen)—should he push down his playthings, and then cry because he has injured them—chase the kitten, and then cry because she has run out of his reach—it is injurious to take any direct notice of it, by saying, ‘How cross you are to-day, James! What a naughty boy you are! I don’t love you to-day.’ This, in all probability, will make matters worse. The better way is to draw off his attention to pleasant thoughts by saying, ‘I am going in the garden’—or, ‘I am going out to see the calf. Does James want to go with me?’ If, in the capriciousness of his humor, he says he does not want to go, do not urge him: make preparations to go, and he will soon be inclined to follow. A few flowers, or a little pleasant talk about the calf, will, in all probability, produce entire forgetfulness of his troubles. If the employment suggested to him combine usefulness with pleasure,—such as feeding the chickens, shelling peas for dinner, &c., so much the better. The habit of assisting others, excites the benevolent affections, and lays the foundation of industry.

When a little child has been playing, and perhaps quarrelling, out of doors, and comes in with his face all of a blaze, sobbing and crying, it is an excellent plan to take him by the hand and say, ‘What is the matter, my dear boy? Tell me what is the matter. But, how dirty your face is! Let me wash your face nicely, and wipe it dry, and then you shall sit in my lap and tell me all about it.’ If he is washed gently, the sensation will be pleasant and refreshing, and by the time the operation is finished, his attention will be drawn off from his vexations; his temper will be cooled, as well as his face. Then seat him in your lap, encourage him to tell you all about his troubles, comb his hair gently in the mean time, and in a few minutes the vexation of his little spirit will be entirely soothed. This secret of calling off the attention by little kind offices is very valuable to those who have the care of invalids, or young children. Bathing the hands and feet, or combing the hair gently, will sometimes put a sick person asleep when he can obtain rest in no other way.

An experienced and very judicious mother told me that, in the course of twenty years’ experience, she had never known washing the face and combing the hair, fail to soothe an angry and tired child. But then it must be done gently. The reason children frequently have an aversion to being washed is that they are taken hold of roughly, and rubbed very hard. If you occasion them pain by the operation, can you wonder they dread it?

By such expedients as I have mentioned, ill-humor and discontent are driven away by the influence of kindness and cheerfulness; ‘evil is overcome with good.’ Whipping and scolding could not have produced quiet so soon; and if they could, the child’s temper would have been injured in the process.

I have said that example and silent influence were better than direct rules and commands. Nevertheless, there are cases where rules must be made; and children must be taught to obey implicitly. For instance, a child must be expressly forbidden to play with fire, to climb upon the tables, &c. But whenever it is possible, restraint should be invisible.

The first and most important step in management is, that whatever a mother says, always must be done. For this reason, do not require too much; and on no account allow your child to do at one time, what you have forbidden him at another. Sometimes when a woman feels easy and good-natured, and does not expect any company, she will allow her children to go to the table and take lumps of sugar; but should visiters be in the room, or she out of humor with the occurrences of the day, she will perhaps scold, or strike them, for the self-same trick. How can a mother expect obedience to commands so selfish and capricious? What inferences will a child draw from such conduct? You may smile at the idea that very young children draw inferences; but it is a fact, that they do draw inferences—and very just ones too. We mistake, when we trust too much to children’s not thinking, or observing. They are shrewd reasoners in all cases where their little interests are concerned. They know a mother’s ruling passion; they soon discover her weak side, and learn how to attack it most successfully. I will relate a little anecdote, to show that children are acute observers of character. A wealthy lady, fond of dress and equipage, was the mother of a thoughtless little rogue. One day, he seized hold of a demijohn of wine, which a larger boy had placed upon the side-walk of a secluded alley, while he joined his companions in play; the little fellow persisted in striking the demijohn on the pavement, for his amusement. He was repeatedly warned that he would break the bottle and spill the wine; and at last this did happen. His mother, being told of the mischief he had so wantonly done, immediately paid for the wine, and ordered him to be undressed and put to bed, although it was then in the middle of the day. While this operation was performed by the nursery maid, he said, ‘Betsy, it is my private opinion, that I should have had a whipping if mother hadn’t had her best gown on.’[1]

To return to my subject.—The necessity of obedience early instilled is the foundation of all good management. If children see you governed by a real wish for their good, rather than by your own selfishness, or capricious freaks, they will easily acquire this excellent habit. Wilful disobedience should never go unpunished. If a little child disobeys you from mere forgetfulness and frolic, it is best to take no notice of it; for his intention is not bad, and authority has greater effect when used sparingly, and on few occasions. Should he forget the same injunction again, look at him very seriously, and tell him that if he forgets it again, you shall be obliged to punish him. Should he commit the offence the third time, take from him the means of committing it; for instance, if you tell him not to tear his picture-book, and he does tear it, take it away from him. Perhaps he will pout and show ill humor;—will push off with his little chair, and say, ‘I don’t love you, mother.’—If so, take no notice. Do not laugh, for that would irritate him, without performing the least use; do not seem offended with him, for that will awaken a love of power in his little mind. It excites very bad feelings in a child to see that he can vex a parent, and make her lose her self-command. In spite of his displeasure, therefore, continue your employment tranquilly, as if nothing had happened. If his ill humor continue, however, and show itself in annoyances to you, and others around him, you should take him by the hand, look very seriously in his face, and say, ‘James, you are such a naughty boy, that I must punish you. I am very sorry to punish you; but I must, that you may remember to be good next time.’ This should be done with perfect calmness, and a look of regret. When a child is punished in anger, he learns to consider it a species of revenge; when he is punished in sorrow, he believes that it is done for his good.

The punishment for such peevishness as I have mentioned should be being tied in an arm-chair, or something of that simple nature. I do not approve of shutting the little offender in the closet. The sudden transition from light to darkness affects him with an undefined species of horror, even if he has been kept perfectly free from frightful stories. A very young child will become quite cold in a few minutes, at midsummer, if shut in a dark closet.

If the culprit is obstinate, and tries to seem as if he did not care for his punishment, let him remain in confinement till he gets very tired; but in the meanwhile be perfectly calm yourself, and follow your usual occupations. You can judge by his actions, and the expression of his countenance, whether his feelings begin to soften. Seize a favorable moment, and ask him if he is sorry he has been so naughty; if he says, ‘Yes,’ let him throw himself into your arms, kiss him, and tell him you hope he will never be naughty again; for if he is you must punish him, and it makes you very sorry to punish him. Here is the key to all good management: always punish a child for wilfully disobeying you in the most trifling particular; but never punish him in anger.

I once heard a lady very pertly say, ‘Well, I should be ashamed of myself if I could punish a child when I was not angry. Anybody must be very hard-hearted that can do it.’ Several of her companions laughed at this speech; but for myself, I saw neither wit nor wisdom in it.

The woman who punishes her child because she is angry, acts from the selfish motive of indulging her own bad passions; she who punishes because it is necessary for the child’s good, acts from a disinterested regard to his future happiness.

As for the kind and degree of punishment, it should be varied according to the age and character of the child, and according to the nature of the offence. We must remember that very young children do not know what is right and wrong, until we explain it to them. A child should not be punished the first time he tears his picture-book, or cuts his gown. He should be told that it is very naughty, and that he must not do it again. It is well to show the torn book to his father, and other members of the family, saying with a look of concern, ‘See how George has torn his picture-book! What a pity. I am so sorry.’ This will impress the magnitude of the fault upon his mind, and he will not be so likely to forget it.

But should he make a grieved lip, and appear distressed at your conversation, change the current of his feelings by saying, ‘But I am sure he will never do such a naughty thing again. He is sorry for it.’ Having thus impressed his mind, do not recur to the subject again.

The form of punishment should always be as mild as it can be and produce the desired effect. Being sent to bed in the middle of the day is a great privation; and it does not excite bad feelings so much as some other forms of punishment. Small children may be tied in an arm-chair, sent out of the room and forbidden to return, put to bed without supper, &c. Eating dinner separate from the family, or not being allowed to kiss father and mother, is a grievous penance to children of sensibility. Privation of any expected pleasure usually makes a deep impression.

Where it is possible, it is a good plan to make the punishment similar to the offence. If a child is quarrelsome, or mischievous, among his companions, make him play in a room by himself. If he is studying with others, and chooses to be very disobliging, or annoying, send him to another room to study alone; or, if this is not convenient, make him sit at a table by himself, and allow no one to speak to him during the evening. His offences having been anti-social, his punishment should be so likewise. Being deprived of social intercourse will teach him its value.

If a child abuse any good thing, it is well to take it from him, and make him feel the want of it. Thus if he abuse your confidence, do not trust him again for some time. But if he is really repentant, restore it to him; and when you do trust him, trust him entirely. Allusions to former faults have a disheartening effect, particularly on sensitive, affectionate children.

Above all things, never suffer a child to be accused of a fault, until you are perfectly sure he has been guilty of it. If he is innocent, the idea that you could think him capable of wickedness will distress him, and will in some degree weaken the strength of his virtue. I would rather lose the Pitt diamond, if it were mine, than let an innocent child know he had been for one moment suspected of stealing it. The conscious dignity of integrity should always be respected.

While speaking of punishments, I would suggest one caution. Never undertake to make a child do a thing unless you are very sure you can make him do it. One instance of successful resistance to parental authority will undo the effects of a year’s obedience. If a boy is too bad to be governed by any other means than flogging, and is too strong for you, do not attempt to manage him: tell his father, or his guardians, of his disobedience, and request them to punish him.

Fear should on no occasion be used as a preventive, or a punishment. If children want anything improper for them to have, do not tell them it will bite them. It is not true; and the smallest child will soon learn by experience that it is not true. This will teach him to disbelieve you, when you really do tell the truth, and will soon make a liar of him. Care should be taken not to inspire a terror of animals, such as beetles, mice, spiders, &c. Fortunately we have no venomous creatures in New-England, which are likely to infest the nursery. As for spiders, they are quite as likely to bite a child who is afraid of them, as one who is not; and if such a thing should happen, a little swelling, and a few hours’ pain, are not half as bad as fear, that troubles one all his life long. Children would never have fear of animals, unless it were put into their heads. A little girl of my acquaintance once came running in with a striped snake, exclaiming ‘Oh, what a beautiful creature I have found!’ Her mother acknowledged that she shuddered, because she had herself been taught to fear snakes; but she knew the creature would not hurt her daughter, and she would not allow herself to express any horror; she merely advised her to set the animal at liberty.

Not to kill any animal, seems to me an excess of a good thing. The vermin that infest our houses and gardens must be destroyed, and children must see them destroyed. But it should always be done with expressed regret, and as mercifully as possible. The explanation that we kill them to prevent the evil they would do, is very good, and very satisfactory. But the fact is, there are very few creatures in this climate which do us harm; more than half our aversions to animals are mere prejudices.

However, it is not evils which can be seen, met, and understood, that usually frighten children. A child is told that fire will burn him if he touches it, and if he has been accustomed to the truth, he believes it; but he will stay in the room where there is a fire without fear; for he knows by experience, that the fire cannot come to him. But they are frightened with mysterious ideas of something in the dark—with stories of old men prowling about to steal them—rats and mice that will come and bite them, when they are shut up in the closet, &c.

I cannot find language strong enough to express what a woman deserves, who embitters the whole existence of her offspring by filling their minds with such terrific images. She who can tell a frightful story to her child, or allow one to be told, ought to have a guardian appointed over herself.

Let us examine what the motives must be, that lead to such measures. It is indolence—pure indolence; a mother is not willing to take the pains, and practise the self-denial, which firm and gentle management requires; she therefore terrifies her child into obedience. She implants in his mind a principle that will, in all probability, make him more or less wretched through his whole life, merely to save herself a few moments’ trouble! Very strong minds may overcome, or nearly overcome, early impressions of this kind; but in cases of weak nerves, or acute natural sensibility, it is utterly impossible to calculate the extent of the evil. And all this to save a little trouble! What selfishness!

However, Divine Providence has so ordered it, that whatever is wrong, is really bad policy, as well as bad morality. ‘Lazy people must take the most pains’ in the end. Fill your children with fears to make them obedient, and those very fears become your tyrants. They cannot go into the dark without you; and you must sit by their bedside till sleep relieves them from terror. All this is the consequence of avoiding a little trouble in the beginning. Is it not a dear price for the whistle?

The management of children should vary according to their character. A very active mind, full of restless curiosity, does not need to be excited; but a feeble or sluggish character should be aroused, as much as possible, by external means. For instance, if there is any wonderful sight to be seen in the neighborhood, such as a caravan of animals, a striking picture, wonderful mechanism, &c., and if it be inconvenient for you to take more than one of the children under your care, let the treat be given to the one whose character most needs to be aroused. Of course, I do not mean that lazy children should be entertained, in preference to industrious ones; I mean where there is a pre-disposition to dulness, owing to early disease, an afflicted state of his mother’s mind before his birth, or while nursing him, &c;—in such cases, the thoughts and affections should be excited with an extraordinary degree of care. A timid child should be encouraged more than a bold and confident one; and if necessary to punish him, means should be used as little likely to break his spirit as possible. A boy whose perceptions are slow, and who learns with labor and difficulty, should be indulged in reading a new book, or attending to a new branch of study, which particularly interests him; but a boy of quick perceptions, and ready memory, should be kept at one thing as long as possible. Such different characters are in danger of totally different defects. One is in danger of never getting his mind interested in knowledge, and the other of getting so much interested in everything, that he will learn nothing well; therefore they should be managed in a manner entirely opposite.

The same rule holds good with regard to the affections: cultivate most those faculties and good feelings, which appear to be of the slowest growth. If a love of power early develope itself in one member of your family with more strength than in the others, subject that child to more restraint than you do the others. But in checking him, do not yourself act from a love of power: explain to him, at every step, that you govern him thus strictly, only to assist him in overcoming a great evil. If you really act from this motive, your child will perceive it to be true, and will respect you.

There is such an immense variety in human character, that it is impossible to give rules adapted to all cases. The above hints will explain my general meaning; and observation and experience will enable a judicious mother to apply them with wisdom and kindness. I will merely add to what I have said, the old proverb, that ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’—If a child has any evil particularly strong, it is far better to avoid exciting it, than to punish it when it is excited. Whatever may be the consequences of evil, it always gains fresh power over us by every instance of indulgence. As much as possible, keep a young child out of the way of temptation which it is peculiarly hard for him to resist; and by reading, by conversation, by caresses, make him in love with the opposite good; when once his feelings are right on the subject, temptation will do him good instead of harm.

When a child is to be punished, he should always be told calmly, ‘I am obliged to do this for your good. If I do not punish you, you will not remember next time. You have promised two or three times to do as I bade you, but you always forget it; now I must make you suffer a little, that you may remember it.’

A very young child can understand and appreciate this management. I knew a girl of five years old, who had the habit of biting her nails so close, that her fingers were perpetually inflamed. Her mother had tried arguments, and various privations, without producing much effect. One day, the child, as usual, put her fingers to her mouth, to bite her nails; but suddenly withdrawing them, she came up to her mother’s writing table, and said, ‘Mother, slap my hand smartly with your ruler every time I bite my nails, and then I shall remember.’ Her mother did as she was desired, saying, ‘I hope you will remember now, and that I shall never have to do this again.’ The girl winced a little,—for her mother did slap her smartly, though but a very few times; but she seemed perfectly satisfied, and said, ‘I think that will make me remember it.’ For several days afterward, if she moved her fingers to her mouth, she would look at the writing table and smile; and if her mother perceived her, she would hold up her finger in a cautioning manner, and smile also. All this was done in perfect good-nature on both sides. After a while she forgot herself, and bit her nails again; her mother was not in the room; but she went, of her own accord, and avowed the fact, saying, ‘Mother, give me a few more slaps than you did before; and see if that will make me remember it any longer.’ After that, she never needed correction for the same fault. This little girl understood the real use of punishment; she did not look upon it as a sign of anger, but as a means of helping her to overcome what was wrong.

Mere fear of suffering never makes people really better. It makes them conceal what is evil, but it does not make them conquer it. They must be taught to dislike what is wrong merely because it is wrong, and to look upon punishment as a means to help them to get rid of it. Does sickness, and misery, and ruin deter the vicious from the commission of sin? Is not theft indulged at the very foot of the gallows? If a man do not hate what is wrong, the mere fear of consequences will never cleanse his heart, though it may regulate his outward behavior; and what will mere outward goodness avail him in another world, where there is no possibility of concealment, or hypocrisy? What the child is, the man will probably be; therefore never make the avoidance of punishment a reason for avoiding sin.

Having mentioned that a mother slapped her little girl smartly, I shall very naturally be asked if I approve of whipping. I certainly do not approve of its very frequent use; still I am not prepared to say that it is not the best punishment for some dispositions, and in some particular cases. I do not believe that most children, properly brought up from the very cradle, would need whipping; but children are not often thus brought up; and you may have those placed under your care in whom evil feelings have become very strong. I think whipping should be resorted to only when the same wrong thing has been done over and over again, and when gentler punishments have failed. A few smart slaps sometimes do good when nothing else will; but particular care should be taken not to correct in anger.

Punishments which make a child ashamed should be avoided. A sense of degradation is not healthy for the character. It is a very bad plan for children to be brought into a room before strangers with a foolscap, or some bad name, fastened upon them. Indeed, I think strangers should have as little as possible to do with the education of children; to be either praised, or mortified, before company, makes us care too much about the opinion of others. I do not mean to inculcate a defiance of public opinion; such contempt springs from no good feeling, and like all wrong things, is neither becoming, nor expedient. The approbation of others does make us happy, and there is no reason why it should not; but when we do right because people will approve of it, we begin at the wrong end. If we follow conscientiously what we perceive to be good, we shall be certain never to be misled; but if we do what others think right, we shall follow a very uncertain guide, and pollute the best of actions with a wrong motive. Nay, worse than all, we shall gradually lose the perception of what is right; and if folly and sin are the fashion, we shall first feel that they are fascinating, and then begin to reason openly (when we dare) that there is no harm in them.

Nothing is a safe guide but the honest convictions of our own hearts. A good man will always be respected; but he cannot be really good because he shall be respected for it. Indeed those who have been taught no holier motive than that of gaining the good opinion of others, rarely succeed in permanently keeping what they covet so much. The heart is not right; and however clean they may try to keep the outside, at some unlucky moment hypocrisy will fail them, and their real character will peep through.

You may tell a cross, discontented looking woman that the world would like her face a great deal better, if it were cheerful and benevolent; but how is she to alter the expression of her face? The mere selfish wish to be pleasing will not enable her to do it. She must begin with her heart, and religiously drive from thence all unkind and discontented feelings.

What a change would take place in the world if men were always governed by internal principle! If they would make pure the hidden fountain, the light might shine upon the wandering stream, and find it clear and stainless in all its windings!

I have heard parents say to children, ‘If you don’t get your lessons better, you will grow up a dunce, and everybody will laugh at you.’ The thing to which they are urged is good, but the motive is wrong. If young people are taught to regulate their actions by a dread of the world’s laugh, they will be full as likely to be deterred from good, as from evil. It would be much better to say, ‘If you grow up in ignorance, you cannot do half as much good in the world, as you can if you gain all the knowledge in your power. Now, while you are young, is the best time to fit yourself for being useful.’

I once heard a boy say, ‘Well, mother, I got a grand ride to-day. Last week I told a man one of his wagon wheels was coming off; and when I was walking home from school to-day, the same man overtook me, and asked me to get in and ride. You always told me, if I helped others, they would help me.’ This is a common case. Parents are in the habit of telling children, ‘If you will be good, you will lose nothing by it.’ This is poisoning the act in the motive. It is not true that we always meet a return for kindness and generosity; they who expect it will be disappointed; and not being accustomed to act from any better motive, they will cease to be benevolent, except when they are sure of reward. We should look for the recompense of goodness in our own hearts; there we shall certainly find it. The reward is in keeping the commandments, not for keeping them.

Children should be induced to kindness by such motives as the following: ‘God is very good to us, and ought we not to be so to others? The Bible tells us to do to others as we would be done by; and you know very well how pleasant it is when you are in trouble to have other people pity you and help you. When you do good to others, does it not make you very happy?’

People sometimes double a boy’s lesson because he has not behaved well. This is a very bad plan. If his book is used as a punishment, how can you expect him to love it? For the same reason, never tell a child he shall stay at home from school if he is good; this gives him the idea that going to school is a task. On the contrary, make all his associations with school as pleasant as possible. Speak of the kindness of the instructer in taking so much pains to teach him; encourage him in telling you about what he has learned; show pleasure at the progress he makes; and tell him how useful he will be when he is a man, if he continues so industrious and persevering.

Never offer money as a reward for doing right. Money and praise become necessary if once habituated to them; so much so, that it is impossible to act without some selfish excitement. Money is the worst stimulus of the two; for avarice is more contemptible and injurious in its effects than a too earnest desire for the good opinion of others.

At the same time guard against wastefulness and prodigality. Teach children to be very economical—never to cut up good pieces of calico, or paper, for no purpose—never to tear old picture-books, destroy old playthings, burn twine, or spend every cent they receive for cake and sugar-plums. But as a reason for not destroying, tell them these things will come in use. Encourage them in laying up money to buy an orange for a sick neighbor, a pair of shoes for a poor boy, or a present to surprise his sister on her birth-day—anything,—no matter what,—that is not for himself alone. He will thus learn the value of money, without becoming selfish. To avoid the danger of engrafting avarice upon habits of care, earnestly encourage children to be generous in giving and lending to each other; and show peculiar delight when they voluntarily share anything of which they are particularly fond. If a child has in any way acquired a tendency to parsimony, take extraordinary pains to make him feel happy when he has been generous. Praise him even more than you would think safe under any other circumstances; for it is always prudent to assist a child most in those points where he is the weakest. To be sure, your approbation is not the best motive he might have; but it is better than the hope of public applause; and moreover it is the best motive from which he can act, until he gets rid of his bad habit. Help him to overcome the obstacle which habit has thrown in his way, and he will gradually learn to love generosity for its own sake.

Habits of carelessness, such as leaving things lying about, blotting books, reciting in a jumbled manner, or jumping hastily at incorrect conclusions, &c., should be resolutely and promptly checked. Defects of this sort are the origin of numerous evils. Many a failure in business, many a disordered household, may be traced to the indulgence of these habits in early life. I speak feelingly on this subject; for years of self-education have hardly yet enabled me to cure the evil. I have made mistakes both in conversation and writing, concerning things which I knew perfectly well, merely from an early habit of heedlessness. It is has cost me much mortification and many tears; punishments which certainly have improved my habits, and may in time cure them.

No single instance of carelessness should be overlooked. If a little girl cannot find her gloves, or her bonnet, when you are about to take a walk, oblige her to stay at home. Let no tears and entreaties induce you to excuse it. I dare say, it may sometimes be painful to you to pursue this course; but for your child’s sake, have resolution enough to do it.

If a boy loses his book, and cannot therefore get his lesson at the usual time, see that he is deprived of his play-hours in order to learn it. If he habitually forgets his book, send him back to the school-house for it, even if it be cold weather, and a great distance.

If a girl is always losing her thimble, do not lend her one; let her hurt her finger a little by sewing without one. These small cruelties in the beginning will save a great deal of future suffering. In order to leave no excuse for carelessness, children should be provided with a proper place for everything, and taught always to put it there, as soon as they have done using it.

Perhaps there is no evil into which children so easily and so universally fall as that of lying.

The temptation to it is strong, and therefore the encouragement to veracity should be proportionably strong. If a child breaks anything and honestly avows it, do not be angry with him. If candor procures a scolding, besides the strong effort it naturally costs, depend upon it, he will soon be discouraged. In such cases, do not speak till you can control yourself—say,’I am glad you told me. It was a very valuable article, and I am truly sorry it is broken; but it would have grieved me much more to have had my son deceive me.’ And having said this, do not reproachfully allude to the accident afterward. I was about to say that children should never be punished for what was honestly avowed; but perhaps there may be some cases where they will do again and again what they know to be wrong, from the idea that an avowal will excuse them; in this case, they tell the truth from policy, not from conscience; and they should be reasoned with, and punished. However, it is the safe side to forgive a good deal, rather than run any risk of fostering habits of deception. Should you at any time discover your child in a lie, treat it with great solemnity. Let him see that it grieves you, and strikes you with horror, as the worst of all possible faults. Do not restore him to your confidence and affection, until you see his heart is really touched by repentance. If falsehood becomes a habit with him, do not tempt him to make up stories, by asking him to detail all the circumstances connected with the affair he has denied. Listen coldly to what he says, and let him see by your manner, that you do not ask him questions, because you have not the least confidence in his telling the truth. But remember to encourage, as well as discourage. Impress upon his mind that God will help him to get rid of the evil whenever he really wishes to get rid of it; and that every temptation he overcomes will make the next one more easy. Receive any evidence of his truth and integrity with delight and affection; let him see that your heart is full of joy that he has gained one victory over so great a fault.

Let your family never hear trifling deceptions glossed over by any excuses; speak of them with unlimited abhorrence and contempt.

Above all things, let your own habits be of the strictest truth. Examine closely! You will be surprised to find in how many little things we all act insincerely. I have at this moment in my memory a friend, who probably would be very indignant to be told she did not speak the truth; and I dare say, on all that she deemed important occasions, she might be relied on; yet she did deceive her children. True, she thought it was for their good; but that was a mistake of hers; deception never produces good. I one evening saw her remove a plate of plum-cake from the tea-table to the closet. Her youngest daughter asked for a piece; the reply was, ‘It is all gone.—Puss came and ate it up;’ at the same time the mother winked to a little girl, two or three years older, not to tell that she had seen her put it in the closet. There is an old proverb about killing two birds with one stone—here two daughters were injured by one lie. The youngest was deceived, and the oldest was taught to participate in the deception. Mere experience would soon teach the little girl that the cat did not eat the cake; and having found that her mother would lie, she would in all probability dispute her even when she spoke the truth. And after all, what use is there in resorting to such degrading expedients? Why not tell the child, ‘The plum-cake is in the closet; but it is not good for you at night, and I shall not give you a piece until morning?’ If she had been properly educated, this would have satisfied her; and if she chose to be troublesome, being put to bed without her supper would teach her a lesson for the future.

A respect for the property of others must be taught children; for until they are instructed, they have very loose ideas upon the subject. A family of children cannot be too much urged and encouraged to be generous in lending and giving to each other; but they should be taught a scrupulous regard for each other’s property. They should never use each other’s things, without first asking, ‘Brother, may I have your sled?’ ‘Sister, may I have your book?’ &c. They should be taught to put them carefully in place, when they have done using them; and should be impressed with the idea that it is a greater fault to injure another’s property, than to be careless of our own. If any little barter has been made, and a dispute afterwards arises, hear both sides with perfect impartiality, and allow no departure from what was promised in the bargain. From such little things as these, children receive their first ideas of honesty and justice.

Some children, from errors in early management, get possessed with the idea that they may have everything. They even tease for things it would be impossible to give them. A child properly managed will seldom ask twice for what you have once told him he should not have. But if you have the care of one who has acquired this habit, the best way to cure him of it is never to give him what he asks for, whether his request is proper or not; but at the same time be careful to give him such things as he likes, (provided they are proper for him,) when he does not ask for them. This will soon break him of the habit of teasing.

I have said much in praise of gentleness. I cannot say too much. Its effects are beyond calculation, both on the affections and the understanding. The victims of oppression and abuse are generally stupid, as well as selfish and hard-hearted. How can we wonder at it? They are all the time excited to evil passions, and nobody encourages what is good in them. We might as well expect flowers to grow amid the cold and storms of winter.

But gentleness, important as it is, is not all that is required in education. There should be united with it firmness—great firmness. Commands should be reasonable, and given in perfect kindness; but once given, it should be known that they must be obeyed. I heard a lady once say, ‘For my part, I cannot be so very strict with my children. I love them too much to punish them every time they disobey me.’ I will relate a scene which took place in her family. She had but one domestic, and at the time to which I allude, she was very busy preparing for company. Her children knew by experience that when she was in a hurry she would indulge them in anything for the sake of having them out of the way. George began, ‘Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie.’ The answer was, ‘It is nearly bed-time; and mince-pie will hurt you. You shall have a piece of cake, if you will sit down and be still.’ The boy ate his cake; and liking the system of being hired to sit still, he soon began again, ‘Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie.’ The old answer was repeated. The child stood his ground, ‘Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie—I want a piece—I want a piece,’ was repeated incessantly. ‘Will you leave off teasing, if I give you a piece?’ ‘Yes, I will,—certain true.’ A small piece was given, and soon devoured. With his mouth half full, he began again, ‘I want another piece—I want another piece.’ ‘No, George; I shall not give you another mouthful. Go sit down, you naughty boy. You always act the worst when I am going to have company.’ George continued his teasing; and at last said, ‘If you don’t give me another piece, I’ll roar.’ This threat not being attended to, he kept his word. Upon this, the mother seized him by the shoulder, shook him angrily, saying, ‘Hold your tongue, you naughty boy!’ ‘I will if you will give me another piece of pie,’ said he. Another small piece was given him, after he had promised that he certainly would not tease any more. As soon as he had eaten it, he, of course, began again; and with the additional threat, ‘If you don’t give me a piece, I will roar after the company comes, so loud that they can all hear me.’ The end of all this was, that the boy had a sound whipping, was put to bed, and could not sleep all night, because the mince-pie made his stomach ache. What an accumulation of evils in this little scene! His health injured,—his promises broken with impunity,—his mother’s promises broken,—the knowledge gained that he could always vex her when she was in a hurry,—and that he could gain what he would by teasing. He always acted upon the same plan afterward; for he only once in a while (when he made his mother very angry) got a whipping; but he was always sure to obtain what he asked for, if he teased her long enough. His mother told him the plain truth, when she said the mince-pie would hurt him; but he did not know whether it was the truth, or whether she only said it to put him off; for he knew that she did sometimes deceive. (She was the woman who said the cat had eaten the cake.) When she gave him the pie, he had reason to suppose it was not true it would hurt him—else why should a kind mother give it to her child? Had she told him that if he asked a second time, she should put him to bed directly—and had she kept her promise, in spite of entreaties,—she would have saved him a whipping, and herself a great deal of unnecessary trouble. And who can calculate all the whippings, and all the trouble, she would have spared herself and him? I do not remember ever being in her house half a day without witnessing some scene of contention with the children.

Now let me introduce you to another acquaintance. She was in precisely the same situation, having a comfortable income and one domestic; but her children were much more numerous, and she had had very limited advantages for education. Yet she managed her family better than any woman I ever saw, or ever expect to see again. I will relate a scene I witnessed there, by way of contrast to the one I have just described. Myself and several friends once entered her parlor unexpectedly, just as the family were seated at the supper-table. A little girl, about four years old, was obliged to be removed, to make room for us. Her mother assured her she should have her supper in a very little while, if she was a good girl. The child cried; and the guests insisted that room should be made for her at table. ‘No,’ said the mother; ‘I have told her she must wait; and if she cries, I shall be obliged to send her to bed. If she is a good little girl, she shall have her supper directly.’ The child could not make up her mind to obey; and her mother led her out of the room, and gave orders that she should be put to bed without supper. When my friend returned, her husband said, ‘Hannah, that was a hard case. The poor child lost her supper, and was agitated by the presence of strangers. I could hardly keep from taking her on my knee, and giving her some supper. Poor little thing! But I never will interfere with your management; and much as it went against my feelings, I entirely approve of what you have done.’ ‘It cost me a struggle,’ replied his wife; ‘but I know it is for the good of the child to be taught that I mean exactly what I say.’

This family was the most harmonious, affectionate, happy family I ever knew. The children were managed as easily as a flock of lambs. After a few unsuccessful attempts at disobedience, when very young, they give it up entirely; and always cheerfully acted from the conviction that their mother knew best. This family was governed with great strictness; firmness was united with gentleness. The indulgent mother, who said she loved her children too much to punish them, was actually obliged to punish them ten times as much as the strict mother did.

The husband’s remark leads me to say something of the great importance of a perfect union between husband and wife. A want of this in education is like mildew in spring. A mother should never object to a father’s punishing a child when he thinks proper; at least she should not do it before the child. Suggestions to each other may, of course, be made in all the freedom of mutual respect and affection. One parent should never allow a child to do what the other has forbidden; no expression of disapprobation concerning management should ever be made by either party, except when alone. A young child ought never to suspect it is possible for his parents to think differently concerning what relates to his education. Perhaps you will ask, if, after all I have said in praise of truth, I approve of concealment and deception in this particular. But you will please to recollect it is not truth which I advise to have concealed in this instance; it is only a difference of opinion. The child, not being old enough to understand the reasons why his parents differ, cannot receive any good from the discussion. Implicit obedience is the first law of childhood. The simple belief that their parents know what is best, is all the light children have to follow, at first. If they see their parents do not agree between themselves as to what is right, it naturally weakens their confidence, and makes them uncertain which they ought to obey. ‘My dear, I don’t approve of your management’—or, ‘I should not have allowed him to do as you have done’—or, ‘Your father may approve of it, but I don’t’—are very improper and injurious expressions. If you differ in your ideas of education, take a proper opportunity to discuss the matter in freedom and kindness; but do not weaken the respect of your children by expressing doubts of each other’s good judgment in their presence. It is hardly possible to exaggerate the bad effects of discord between parents; and the blessed influence of domestic union may well be compared to a band of guardian angels protecting innocence from all evil things.

If your marriage has been an unfortunate one—if the influence of a father may not be trusted—or if he delights in thwarting your well-meant endeavors—I know not what to say. If patience, humility and love cannot win him to a sense of duty, the only thing you can do, is to redouble your vigilance for the good of your children, and as far as possible withdraw them from his influence. Until it becomes an imperious duty, never speak of a parent’s errors; unless there is great danger of their being imitated, let a thick veil rest upon them. But why should I dwell upon a case so unnatural, so wretched, and so hopeless? If such be your unhappy lot, pray to God, and he will give you light to make the path of duty clear before you. He alone can help you.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is but justice to this boy to state; that he was prompt in confessing his fault, and eager to atone for it.

CHAP. V.
PLAYTHINGS.—AMUSEMENTS.—EMPLOYMENTS.

In infancy, the principal object is to find such toys as are at once attractive and safe. During the painful process of teething, a large ivory ring, or a dollar worn smooth, are good, on account of the ease they give the gums; they should be fastened to a string—but not a green one, or any other from which a babe can suck the colors. Some people think nothing so good for teething children as a large, round piece of India rubber, from which it is impossible to bite a piece. Painted toys are not wholesome at this age, when children are so prone to convey everything to the mouth. A bunch of keys is a favorite plaything with babies. Indeed anything they can move about, and cause to produce a noise, is pleasant to them. I have seen infants amuse themselves, for hours, with a string of very large wooden beads, or shining buttons; perhaps it is needless to say that no buttons but steel, wood, or ivory, are safe; if they have any portion of brass about them, they are injurious: another caution, perhaps equally unnecessary, is, that playthings small enough to be swallowed should be tied together with a very strong string, from which no color can be extracted. When children are a few months older, blocks of wood, which can be heaped up and knocked down at pleasure, become favorite playthings. A pack of old cards are perhaps liked still better, on account of their bright colors and pictured faces. Such toys are a great deal better than expensive ones. I do not think it a good plan to give children old almanacs, pamphlets, &c., to tear up. How can they distinguish between the value of one book and another? Children, who have been allowed to tear worthless books, may tear good ones, without the least idea that they are doing any harm.

As soon as it is possible to convey instruction by toys, it is well to choose such as will be useful. The letters of the alphabet on pieces of bone are excellent for this purpose. I have known a child of six years old teach a baby-brother to read quite well, merely by playing with his ivory letters. In all that relates to developing the intellect, very young children should not be hurried or made to attend unwillingly. When they are playing with their letters, and you are at leisure, take pains to tell them the name of each one, as often as they ask; but do not urge them. No matter if it takes them three weeks to learn one letter; they will not want their knowledge in a hurry. When the large letters are learned, give them the small ones. When both are mastered, place the letters together in some small word, such as CAT; point to the letters, name them, and pronounce cat distinctly. After a few lessons, the child will know what letters to place together in order to spell cat. Do not try to teach him a new word, until he is perfectly master of the old one; and do not try to force his attention to his letters, when he is weary, fretful and sleepy, or impatient to be doing something else. In this, as indeed in all other respects, an infant’s progress is abundantly more rapid, if taught by a brother, or sister, nearly of his own age. The reason is, their little minds are in much the same state as their pupil’s; they are therefore less liable than ourselves to miscalculate his strength, or force him beyond his speed. Among instructive toys may be ranked balls arranged together so as to be counted.

Every step of infantile progress should be encouraged by expressions of surprise and pleasure. When a child is able to spell a new word, or count a new number, kiss him, and show delight at his improvement. Sir Benjamin West relates that his mother kissed him eagerly, when he showed her a likeness he had sketched of his baby-sister; and he adds, ‘That kiss made me a painter!’

I have before shown that the same rule applies to the affections—that it is better to encourage what is right, than to punish what is wrong. Nothing strengthens a child in goodness, or enables him to overcome a fault, so much as seeing his efforts excite a sudden and earnest expression of love and joy.

For children of two or three years old, pictures are great sources of amusement and instruction. Engravings of animals on large cards are very good things. It is a great object to have proportion observed; if a child have a very small picture of an elephant, and a very large one of a mouse, it will lead him to the conclusion that a mouse is as large as an elephant. Children should be encouraged in talking about the engravings they look at; and the different parts should be pointed out and explained to them. Thus if a palm-tree is placed near the picture of an elephant, the attention should be drawn to it, and it should be explained to them that it is not the picture of any tree in this country, (that is, in New England,) but that in Asia and Africa, where elephants live, palm-trees are very common. If a child is old enough to understand it, some account of this useful tree may be given advantageously; he can be told that it yields palm-oil, palm-wine, that its leaves are manufactured into fans, &c. But if he is not old enough to feel interested in such an account, do not trouble him with it. The object of pointing out all the details of an engraving, and explaining them, when they differ from what he is accustomed to see, is merely to give habits of observation, and arouse a spirit of inquiry.

I think it is very important that disproportioned, badly drawn pictures should not be placed in the hands of children. No matter how coarse or common they are, but let them be correct imitations of nature; if they are graceful, as well as correct, so much the better. Good taste is of less consequence than good feelings, good principles, and good sense; but it certainly is of consequence, and should not uselessly be perverted or destroyed. I believe the sort of pictures children are accustomed to see have an important effect in forming their taste. The very beggar-boys of Italy will observe a defect in the proportions of a statue, or a picture; and the reason is, that fine sculpture and paintings are in their churches, and about their streets.

Playthings that children make for themselves are a great deal better than those which are bought for them. They employ them a much longer time, they exercise ingenuity, and they really please them more. A little girl had better fashion her cups and saucers of acorns, than to have a set of earthen ones supplied. A boy takes ten times more pleasure in a little wooden sled he has pegged together, than he would in a painted and gilded carriage brought from the toy-shop; and I do not believe any expensive rocking-horse ever gave so much satisfaction, as I have seen a child in the country take with a long-necked squash, which he had bridled and placed on four sticks. There is a peculiar satisfaction in inventing things for one’s self. No matter if the construction be clumsy and awkward; it employs time (which is a great object in childhood), and the pleasure the invention gives is the first impulse to ingenuity and skill. For this reason, the making of little boats, and mechanical toys, should not be discouraged; and when any difficulty occurs above the powers of a child, assistance should be cheerfully given. If the parents are able to explain the principles on which machines are constructed, the advantage will be tenfold.

Cutting figures in paper is a harmless and useful amusement for those who are old enough to be trusted with scissors; which, by the way, should always be blunt-pointed, when placed in the hands of a very young child. Any glaring disproportion in the figures should be explained to a child, and he should be encouraged to make his little imitations as much like nature as possible. There is at present a little boy in Boston, who at two years old took a great fancy to cutting figures in paper. In the course of six or eight years, he actually wore out five or six pairs of scissors in the service. He cuts with astonishing rapidity, and apparently without any thought; yet he will produce little landscapes, or groups, as beautiful and spirited as the best engravings. At first he began by copying things he had before him; but he afterward attained to so much skill, that he easily invented his own designs. This talent has enabled him to do a great deal for the support of his parents, who are not rich.

Drawing figures on a slate is a favorite amusement with children; and it may prove a very useful one, if pains are taken to point out errors, and induce them to make correct imitations. Young people should be taught that it is not well to be careless in doing even the most trifling things—that whatever is worthy of being done at all, is worthy of being well done.

Some distinguished writers on education have objected to dolls, as playthings which lead to a love of dress and finery. I do not consider them in this light. If a mother’s influence does not foster a love of finery, I think there is very little danger of its being produced by dressing dolls. I like these toys for various reasons. They afford a quiet amusement; they exercise ingenuity in cutting garments, and neatness in sewing; they can be played with in a prodigious variety of ways; and so far as they exercise the affections, their influence is innocent and pleasant. No doubt dolls sometimes excite very strong affection. Miss Hamilton tells of a little girl, who had a limb amputated at the hospital. She bore the operation with great fortitude, hugging her doll in her arms all the time. When it was completed, the surgeon playfully said, ‘Now let me cut off your doll’s leg.’ This speech produced a torrent of tears, and the little creature could hardly be pacified. She had borne her own sufferings patiently, but she could not endure that her doll should be hurt. I know that this tenderness for inanimate things is not the best employment for the affections; but so far as it goes, it is good. For the same reason, and in a similar degree, I think pet animals have a good effect; but care should be taken to choose such as are happy in a domesticated state. I cannot think it is right to keep creatures, that must be confined in cages and boxes; no pleasure can be good, which is so entirely selfish.

It is a benefit to children to have the care of feeding animals, such as lambs, chickens, &c. It answers two good purposes—it excites kindness, and a love of usefulness.

Amusements and employments which lead to exercise in the open air have greatly the advantage of all others. In this respect, I would make no difference between the management of boys and girls. Gardening, sliding, skating, and snow-balling, are all as good for girls as for boys. Are not health and cheerful spirits as necessary for one as the other? It is a universal remark that American women are less vigorous and rosy, than women of other climates; and that they are peculiarly subject to disorders of the chest and the spine. I believe the sole reason of this is, that our employments and amusements lead us so little into the open air.

I am aware that many people object to such plays as I have recommended to girls, from the idea that they will make them rude and noisy. I do not believe this would be the case if the influences within doors favored gentleness and politeness; and even if there were any danger of this sort, how much easier it is to acquire elegance in after life, than it is to regain health! When it is considered what a loss of usefulness, as well as comfort, is attendant upon ill health, I think all will agree that a vigorous constitution is the greatest of earthly blessings.

When I say that skating and sliding are proper amusements for girls, I do not, of course, mean that they should mix in a public crowd. Such sports, when girls unite in them, should be confined to the inmates of the house, and away from all possibility of contact with the rude and vicious. Under these circumstances, a girl’s manners cannot be injured by such wholesome recreations. To snow-ball, or slide, with well-behaved brothers every day, cannot, I am sure, tend to make a girl rude and boisterous. I know one very striking instance of the truth of what I assert; and no doubt the memory of my readers will supply similar proofs. Mrs. John Adams, wife of the second President of the United States, and mother of the sixth, was very remarkable for the elegance and dignity of her manners. Even amid the splendor of foreign courts, she was considered a distinguished ornament. Yet Mrs. Adams had not been brought up in petted indolence, or shut from the sun and air, for fear of injury to her beauty, or her gracefulness. She was a capable, active, and observing woman; and while she was the admiration of European courts, she knew how to make butter and cheese as well as any woman in Weymouth, which was her native place. In the latter part of her life, she was one day passing the home of her childhood, in company with an intimate friend; she paused, and looked at a long lane near the house, saying in an animated tone, ‘Oh, how many hours and hours I have driven hoop up and down that lane!’ As might be expected, Mrs. Adams enjoyed a hale and happy old age. Among the other good effects of her example, she has left a practical lesson to her country-women, that refined elegance is perfectly compatible with driving hoop in the open air.

I cannot pass over the subject of amusements, without saying something in relation to children’s balls and parties. I do not believe human ingenuity ever invented any thing worse for the health, heart, or happiness—any thing at once so poisonous to body and soul. I do not, of course, refer to a social intercourse between the children of different families—that should be encouraged. I mean regular parties, in imitation of high-life—where children eat confectionary, stay late, dress in finery, talk nonsense, and affect what they do not feel—just as their elders in the fashionable world do. It is a heart-sickening sight to see innocent creatures thus early trained to vanity and affectation. In mercy to your children, trust not their purity and peace in such a sickly and corrupting atmosphere. ‘Who was your beau last night?’ said a girl of eight years old to another of ten. ‘I danced twice with George Wells,’ was the reply. ‘Did you wear your pink sash, or your blue one?’ I could have wept in very pity for the guileless young creatures, into whose cup of life poison had been so early poured! I speak the more earnestly on this subject, because it has become so general a habit with all classes of people to indulge children in balls and parties.

As for dancing, within and of itself, I see no objection to it. It is a healthy, innocent, and graceful recreation. The vanity and dissipation, of which it has usually been the accompaniment, have brought it into disrepute with the conscientious. But if dancing be made to serve the purpose, which all accomplishments should serve,—that of ministering to the pleasure of father, mother, brothers, sisters and friends,—it is certainly innocent and becoming. I do not mean to imply that it is wrong to dance anywhere else but at home.—I simply mean that girls should not learn an accomplishment for the purpose of display among strangers. Let them learn anything which your income allows (without a diminution of comfort or benevolence)—but teach them to acquire it as a means of future usefulness, as a pleasant resource, or for the sake of making home agreeable—not with the hope of exciting admiration abroad.

It is very important, and very difficult, to furnish young children with sufficient employment. What we call a natural love of mischief, is in fact nothing but activity. Children are restless for employment; they must have something to do; and if they are not furnished with what is useful or innocent, they will do mischief. No one who has not lived with a family of children can conceive how very difficult it is to keep a child of five or six years old employed. It is a good plan to teach little girls to knit, to weave bobbin, watchguards, chains, &c. Making patchwork is likewise a quiet amusement; and if a child be taught to fit it herself, it may be made really useful. If the corners are not fitted exactly, or the sewing done neatly, it should be taken to pieces and fitted again; for it is by inattention to these little things that habits of carelessness are formed. On no occasion whatever should a child be excused from finishing what she has begun. The custom of having half a dozen things on hand at once, should not be tolerated. Everything should be finished, and well finished. It ought to be considered a disgrace to give up anything, after it is once undertaken. Habits of perseverance are of incalculable importance; and a parent should earnestly improve the most trifling opportunities of impressing this truth. Even in so small a thing as untying a knot, a boy should be taught to think it unmanly to be either impatient or discouraged.

Always encourage a child in fitting her own work, and arranging her own playthings. Few things are more valuable, in this changing world, than the power of taking care of ourselves. It is a useful thing for children to make a little shirt exactly after the model of a large one, fitting all the parts themselves, after you have furnished them with a model of each part in paper. Knitting may be learned still earlier than sewing. I am sorry to see this old fashioned accomplishment so universally discarded. It is a great resource to the aged; and women, in all situations of life, have so many lonely hours, that they cannot provide themselves with too many resources in youth. For this reason I would indulge girls in learning anything that did not interfere with their duties, provided I could afford it as well as not; such as all kinds of ornamental work, boxes, baskets, purses, &c. Every new acquirement, however trifling, is an additional resource against poverty and depression of spirits.

The disposition to help others should be cherished as much as possible. Even very little children are happy when they think they are useful. ‘I can do some good, can’t I, mother?’ is one of the first questions asked. To encourage this spirit, indulge children in assisting you, even when their exertions are full as much trouble as profit. Let them go out with their little basket, to weed the garden, to pick peas for dinner, to feed the chickens, &c. It is true they will at first need constant overseeing, to prevent them from pulling up flowers as well as weeds; but then it employs them innocently, and makes them happy; and if dealt gently with, they soon learn to avoid mistakes. In the house, various things may be found to employ children. They may dust the chairs, and wipe the spoons, and teach a younger brother his lessons, &c. As far as possible keep children always employed—either sewing, or knitting, or reading, or playing, or studying, or walking. Do not let them form habits of listlessness and lounging. If they endeavor to assist you, and do mischief while they are really trying to do their best, do not scold at them; merely explain to them how they should have gone to work, and give them a lesson of carefulness in future.

As girls grow older, they should be taught to take the entire care of their own clothes, and of all the light and easy work necessary in their own apartments.

I have said less about boys, because it is not so difficult to find employment for them as for girls. The same general rules apply to both. Boys should be allowed to assist others, when they possibly can, and should be encouraged in all sorts of ingenious experiments not absolutely mischievous. In general it is a good rule to learn whatever we can, without interfering with our duties. My grand-mother used to say, ‘Lay by all scraps and fragments, and they will be sure to come in use in seven years.’ I would make the same remark with regard to scraps and fragments of knowledge. It is impossible for us to foresee in youth, what will be the circumstances of our after life; the kind of information, which at one period seems likely to be of very little use to us, may become very important. If I happened to be thrown into the society of those who excelled in any particular branch, I would gain all the information I could, without being obtrusive. No matter whether it be poetry, or puddings,—making shoes, or making music,—riding a horse, or rearing a grape-vine;—it is well to learn whatever comes in one’s way, provided it does not interfere with the regular discharge of duty. It was a maxim with the great Sir William Jones, ‘never to lose an opportunity of learning anything.’

CHAP. VI.
THE SABBATH.—RELIGION.

It is a great misfortune for people to imbibe, in the days of childhood, a dislike of the Sabbath, or a want of reverence for its sacred character. Some parents, from a conscientious wish to have the Sabbath kept holy, restrain children in the most natural and innocent expressions of gayety—if they laugh, or jump, or touch their play-things, they are told that it is wicked to do so, because it is Sunday.—The result of this excessive strictness is that the day becomes hateful to them. They learn to consider it a period of gloom and privation; and the Bible and the church become distasteful, because they are associated with it. A little girl of my acquaintance, in the innocence of her heart, once made an exclamation, which showed what she really thought of Sunday. She had long been very anxious to go to the theatre; and when she was about six or seven years old, her wish was very injudiciously gratified. The after-piece happened to be Der Freyschutz, a horrible German play, in which wizards, devils, and flames are the principal agents. The child’s terror increased until her loud sobs made it necessary to carry her home. ‘What is the matter with my darling? asked her grandmother—Don’t she love to go to the theatre?’ ‘Oh, grandmother!’ exclaimed the sobbing child, ‘it is a great deal worse than going to meeting!’ My motive in mentioning this anecdote will not, of course, be misunderstood. Nothing is farther from my intentions than to throw ridicule upon any place of worship. It is merely introduced to show that Sunday was so unpleasantly associated in the child’s mind, as to make her involuntarily compare it with anything disagreeable or painful; being restrained at home every moment of the day, made the necessary restraint at church irksome to her; whereas with proper management it might have been a pleasant variety.

Some parents, on the other hand, go to the opposite extreme; and from the fear of making the Sabbath gloomy, they make no distinction between that and other days. This is the more dangerous extreme of the two. A reverence for the Sabbath, even if it be a mere matter of habit, and felt to be a restraint, is very much better than no feeling at all upon the subject. But it appears to me that a medium between the two extremes is both easy and expedient. Children under five or six years old cannot sit still and read all day; and being impossible, it should not be required of them. They may be made to look on a book, but they cannot be made to feel interested in it, hour after hour. Childhood is so restless, so active, and so gay, that such requirements will be felt and resisted as a state of bondage. Moreover, if a child is compelled to keep his eyes on a book, when he does not want to read, it will early give the impression that mere outward observances constitute religion. It is so much easier to perform external ceremonies than it is to drive away evil feelings from our hearts, that mankind in all ages have been prone to trust in them. They who think they are religious merely because they attend church regularly, and read a chapter in the Bible periodically, labor precisely under the same mistake as the Mahometan, who expects to save his soul, by travelling barefoot to Mecca, or the East Indian Fakir, who hangs with his head downward several hours each day, in order to prove his sanctity. There is no real religion that does not come from the heart; outward observances are worth nothing except they spring from inward feeling. In all ages and countries we find men willing to endure every species of privation and suffering, nay, even death itself, for the sake of going to heaven; but very few are willing that the Lord should purify their hearts from selfish feelings. Like the leper of old they are willing to do some great thing, but they will not obey the simple injunction to ‘wash and be clean.’

This tendency to trust in what is outward is so strong in human nature that great care should be taken not to strengthen it by education. Children should always be taught to judge whether their actions are right, by the motives which induced the actions. Religion should be made as pleasant as possible to their feelings, and all particular rules and prohibitions should be avoided.

Quiet is the first idea which a young child can receive of the Sabbath; therefore I would take no notice of his playing with his kitten, or his blocks, so long as he kept still. If he grew noisy, I should then say to him, ‘You must not make a noise to-day; for it is the Sabbath day, and I wish to be quiet, and read good books. If you run about, it disturbs me.’

I make these remarks with regard to very young children. As soon as they are old enough to read and take an interest in religious instruction, I would have playthings put away; but I would not compel them to refrain from play, before I gave them something else to interest their minds. I would make a difference in their playthings. The noisy rattle and the cart which have amused them during the week, should give place to picture-books, the kitten, little blocks, or any quiet amusement.

If the heads of a family keep the Sabbath with sobriety and stillness, the spirit of the day enters into the hearts of the children. I have seen children of three and four years old, who were habitually more quiet on Sunday than on any other day, merely from the soothing influence of example.

A child should be accustomed to attend public worship as early as possible; and the walk to and from church should be made pleasant, by calling his attention to agreeable objects. When his little heart is delighted with the lamb, or the dove, or the dog, or the flower, you have pointed out to him, take that opportunity to tell him God made all these things, and that he has provided everything for their comfort, because he is very kind. We are too apt to forget God, except in times of affliction, and to remind children of him only during some awful manifestation of his power; such as thunder, lightning and whirlwind. It certainly is proper to direct the infant thoughts to him at such seasons; but not at such seasons only. A tempest produces a natural feeling of awe, which should never be disturbed by jesting and laughter; emotions of dependence and reverence are salutary to mortals. But we should speak of God often in connexion with everything calm and happy. We should lead the mind to dwell upon his infinite goodness; that he may indeed be regarded as a Heavenly Father.

An early habit of prayer is a blessed thing. I would teach it to a child as soon as he could lisp the words. At first, some simple form must be used, like, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep;’ but as children grow older, it is well to express themselves just as they feel. A little daughter of one of my friends, when undressed to go to bed, knelt down of her own accord, and said, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, forgive me for striking my little brother to-day, and help me not to strike him again; for oh, if he should die, how sorry I should be that I struck him!’ Another in her evening prayer thanked God for a little sugar dog, that had been given her in the course of the day. Let it not be thought for a moment that there is any irreverence in such prayers as these coming from little innocent hearts. It has a blessed influence to look to God as the source of all our enjoyments; and as the enjoyments of a child must necessarily be childish, it is sincere and proper for them to express gratitude in this way.

While I endeavored to make Sunday a very cheerful day, I would as far as possible give a religious character to all its conversation and employments. Very young children will become strongly interested in the Bible, if it is read to them, or they are suffered to talk about it. They will want to hear, for the hundredth time, about the little boy who said to his father, ‘My head! My head!’ They will tell over to each other with a great deal of delight, how he died, and was laid on his little bed, and how the prophet lay down with him, and restored him to life; and how the little boy sneezed seven times.

The story of Joseph, of Samuel, of David, of the meeting of Isaac and Rebecca at the Well, are very attractive to children. It is the first duty of a mother to make the Bible precious and delightful to her family. In order to do this, she must choose such parts as are best suited to their capacities; talk to them about it in a pleasant and familiar style; and try to get their little minds interested in what they read. If made to spell out a chapter in a cold, formal manner, and then told to go and sit down and be still, they will take no interest in the Bible; nor would they, by such means, take an interest in anything.

At no period of life should people hear the Bible spoken lightly of, or any passage quoted in jest; thoughtlessness in this respect does great mischief to ourselves and others. There cannot be a worse practice than that of making a child commit a chapter of the Scriptures as a punishment for any offence. At some schools, the Bible (being the heaviest book to be found) is held at arm’s length till the little culprit gets so weary, that he would gladly throw the volume across the room.—This is very injudicious. In no way whatever should the Bible be associated with anything disagreeable.

A little hymn every Sabbath is a pleasant and profitable lesson; and if it is simple enough to be understood, the child will amuse himself by repeating it through the week. Some of the very strongest impressions of childhood are made by the hymns learned at an early age: therefore, parents should be careful what kind of ones are learned. They should first read them themselves, and think carefully what impressions of God, religion, and death, they are likely to convey.

As children grow older, you may add to their interest in the Scriptures by accounts of Palestine, and of the customs of the Jews. Helon’s Pilgrimage to Jerusalem is a good book for this purpose. Maps, on which the travels of our Saviour and the Apostles may be traced are excellent for Sunday lessons. Such means as these give an interest to religious instruction, and prevent it from becoming a task. Perhaps some parents will be ready to say that their own education has not fitted them for thus assisting their children; but surely books and maps are cheap, and whoever has common sense, and the will to learn, cannot fail to understand them. As for the expense, it is better to give your child right feelings and enlightened ideas, than to give him dollars. You may leave him a large sum of money, but he cannot buy happiness with it, neither can he buy a good heart, or a strong mind; but if his feelings are correct and his understanding cultivated, he will assuredly be happy, and will be very likely to acquire a competency of the good things of this world.

In order to relieve the tediousness of too much reading and studying, it is a good plan for parents to walk with children on Sabbath afternoon, for the purpose of drawing their attention to the works of God, and explaining how his goodness extends over all things. The structure of a bird’s nest may be made to convey religious instruction, and inspire religious feeling, as well as a hymn. For this reason, books which treat of the wonderful mechanism of the eye and the ear, the provisions for the comfort of animals, and the preservation of plants—in a word, all that leads the mind to dwell upon the goodness and power of God,—are appropriate books for Sunday, and may be read, or studied, to great advantage, when children are old enough to understand them.

But after all, religion is not so much taught by lessons, as it is by our examples, and habits of speaking, acting, and thinking. It should not be a garment reserved only for Sunday wear; we should always be in the habit of referring everything to our Father in heaven. If a child is reminded of God at a moment of peculiar happiness, and is then told to be grateful to Him for all his enjoyments, it will do him more good than any words he can learn. To see the cherry-stone he has planted becoming a tree, and to be told that God made it grow, will make a more lively impression on his mind, than could be produced by any lesson from a book. The Friends say every day should be Sunday; and certainly no day should pass without using some of the opportunities, which are always occurring, of leading the heart to God.

To catechisms in general I have an aversion. I think portions of the Bible itself are the best things to be learned; and something may be found there to interest all ages. Cummings’ Questions in the New Testament appear to me better than anything of the kind; because the answers are to be found in the Bible itself; but even in this I would blot out all answers given by the writer—I would have children learn nothing of men, but everything from God. It is important that Bible lessons should be accompanied with familiar and serious conversation with parents; it interests a child’s feelings, and enlightens his understanding. Perhaps some will think I have pointed out very arduous duties for the Sabbath, and that if so much is done for children, parents will have no time left for their own reading and reflection. But there can be no doubt that (interesting) lessons and conversations with children are both pleasant and useful to parents; you cannot dispose of a part of the day more satisfactorily to your heart or your conscience. It is by no means necessary to devote the whole day expressly to their instruction. Let your own pursuits be such as imply a respect for the sanctity of the Sabbath, and put them in the way of employing themselves about what is good, as well as pleasant. Young people should always be taught to respect the employments and convenience of others; they should learn to wait patiently for their elders to join in their studies or amusements. If you treat them with perfect gentleness, and show a willingness to attend to them when it is in your power, they will soon acquire the habit of waiting cheerfully. But never explain anything to a child because he is impatient and teases you, when it is really very inconvenient to you, and of no immediate consequence to him. Let your constant practice in all things show him, that you are less inclined to attend to him when he teases you, than when he waits patiently; but, at the same time, never make him wait when it is not necessary. There is no end to the wonders that may be wrought by gentleness and firmness.

The religious knowledge conveyed in early childhood should be extremely simple. It is enough to be told that God is their Father in heaven; that every thing in the world is formed by his wisdom, and preserved by his love; that he knows every thought of their hearts; that he loves them when they do what is right; and that good children, when they die, go to heaven, where God and the angels are. No opportunity should be lost of impressing upon their minds that God loves the creatures he has made; even for the most common enjoyments of life they should be taught to be thankful to him. When guilty of a falsehood, or any other wrong action, they should be solemnly reminded that though nobody in the world may know it, God sees it. This simple truth will make a serious impression, even when they are quite small; and as they grow older, they may be more deeply impressed, by adding that every time we indulge any evil feeling, we remove ourselves farther from God and good angels, and render ourselves unfit for heaven. It may seem like a nice metaphysical distinction, but I do think it very important that children should early, and constantly, receive the idea that the wicked remove themselves from God—that God never withdraws from them. Divine influence is always shedding its holy beams upon the human soul, to purify and bless. It is our own fault, if our souls are in such a state that we cannot receive it.

In the whole course of education, we should never forget that we are rearing beings for another world as well as for this; they should be taught to consider this life as a preparation for a better. Human policy is apt to look no farther than the honors and emoluments of this world; but our present life is, at the longest, but an exceedingly small part of our existence; and how unwise it is to prepare for time and neglect eternity. Besides, the best way of fitting ourselves for this world is to prepare for another. Human prudence is not willing to perform every duty in earnestness and humility, and trust the rest to Providence. Yet, after all, God will do much better for us than we can do for ourselves. All our deep-laid schemes cannot make us so happy, as we should be if we were simply good. I do not mean that the active employments of life should be neglected; for I consider them as duties, which may and ought to be performed in the true spirit of religion: I mean that we should industriously cultivate and exert our abilities, as a means of usefulness, without feeling anxious about wealth or reputation. It is the doing things from a wrong motive, which produces so much disorder and unhappiness in the world.

Religious education, in early life, should be addressed to the heart, rather than to the mind. The affections should be filled with love and gratitude to God, but no attempt should be made to introduce doctrinal opinions into the understanding. Even if they could be understood, it would not be well to teach them. It is better that the mind should be left in perfect freedom to choose its creed; if the feelings are religious, God will enlighten the understanding; he who really loves what is good, will perceive what is true.

Miss Hamilton, in her excellent book on education, relates an anecdote of a mother, who tried to explain the doctrine of atonement by telling a child that God came down from heaven, and lived and died on earth, for the sins of men. The little girl looked thoughtfully in the fire for some time, and then eagerly exclaimed, ‘Oh, what a good time the angels must have had, when God was gone away!’

This child, being subject to great restraint in the presence of her parents, was probably in the habit of having a frolic when they were gone; and she judged the angels by the same rule. She was not to blame for judging by what she had seen and felt. It was the only standard she could use. The error was in attempting to give her ideas altogether too vast for her infant mind. This anecdote shows how necessary it is that religious instruction should, at first, be extremely plain and simple.

There is nothing perhaps in which Christians act so inconsistently as in surrounding death with associations of grief and terror. We profess to believe that the good whom we have loved in this life, are still alive in a better and happier world; yet we clothe ourselves in black, toll the bell, shun the room where we saw them die, and weep when they are mentioned. My own prejudices against wearing mourning are very strong—nothing but the certainty of wounding the feelings of some near and dear friend would ever induce me to follow the custom. However, I have no right, nor have I any wish, to interfere with the prejudices of others. I shall only speak of mourning in connexion with other things, that tend to give children melancholy ideas of death. For various reasons, we should treat the subject as cheerfully as possible. We all must die; and if we really believe that we shall live hereafter, under the care of the same all-merciful God, who has protected us here, why should we dread to die? Children should always hear death spoken of as a blessed change; and if the selfishness of our nature will wring some tears from us, when our friends die, they should be such tears as we shed for a brief absence, not the heartrending sobs of utter separation. When death occurs in the family, use the opportunity to make a child familiar with it. Tell him the brother, or sister, or parent he loved is gone to God; and that the good are far happier with the holy angels, than they could have been on earth; and that if we are good, we shall in a little while go to them in heaven. Whenever he afterwards alludes to them, say they are as much alive as they were on this earth; and far happier. Do not speak of it as a thing to be regretted that they have gone early to heaven; but rather as a privilege to be desired that we shall one day go to them. This is the view which the Christian religion gives us; and it is the view we should all have, did not a guilty conscience, or an injudicious education inspire us with feelings of terror. The most pious people are sometimes entirely unable to overcome the dread of death, which they received in childhood; whereas, those whose first impressions on this subject have been pleasant, find within themselves a strong support in times of illness and affliction.

The following is extracted from Miss Hamilton’s work on Education:—